Claimed by My Bestie's Alpha Daddy novel Chapter 172

Amelia

I woke to the sound of chains.

Metal groaned beneath me, each jolt reverberating through the iron bars that caged me in. My cheek was pressed to the floor, cold and rust-flaked, and every motion made my stomach lurch. I blinked hard, trying to bring the shadows into focus. It took several long seconds to realize the cage was moving. The vibration wasn’t from wheels, not exactly; it felt older and heavier, as if the land itself resented being crossed.

Outside, a black sky stretched overhead, completely empty of stars. There was no road, only scorched earth beneath the strange hooves. Spectral beasts, things that resembled horses but shimmered like smoke, pulled the cage with jerking, unnatural rhythm. Their hooves never quite touched the ground, and though I could hear them, they floated just above the dirt, each step leaving no mark and no sound that belonged to the world I knew.

The air tasted flat and metallic, clinging to my tongue until I could barely swallow. Something sweet and rotten clung to the back of my throat. I pushed up onto my elbows, my arms trembling under the weight of whatever they had done to me. The iron bars around me seemed to pulse in time with my breath, and my thoughts folded in on themselves so completely that I could barely hold onto them.Laughter drifted from the back of the cage, inhuman and warbling, like music stripped of its key.

Two figures in crimson robes lounged on the axle. Their faces were too smoath, wax-like, and their violet eyes shimmered with a kind of sadistic calm.

“She’s waking,” one of them said softly, like it was something they’d been counting on. “That moment before they understand what they’ve lost. It’s always the most beautiful.”

“Let her flail. The ones who fight make the best converts.”

Their words jolted through me. They weren’t speaking to me. They were speaking about me, the way scientists whisper over something that used to be alive.

I tried to speak, but my throat scraped raw. I reached for the torn fabric near my collarbone and found a jagged rip, soaked with something still tacky. A puncture throbbed under my fingertips, pulsing like the wound remembered what I couldn’t.

“What did you do to me?” I asked, though the words came out hoarse and low.

“Memory correction,” one of them answered, their tone light and cheerful, like a teacher explaining a lesson.” We’re just helping you remember who you really are.”

“You drugged me.”

“We restored you. It’s only painful because you’ve lived inside a lie.

I gripped the bars tighter, forcing myself to breathe. The burn in my limbs sharpened. My thoughts splintered again, spinning out of reach. The world warped, the trees curled in impossible shapes, the sky pulsed like it was alive. My fingers twitched with a mind of their own.

I tried to hold on. My name was Amelia. I had been born wolfless. I had found my place in the Pack House. I had kissed Richard, and he had kissed me back. I had seen people die and fought to save others. My hands curled into fists. I dug a nail into my palm until it hurt. That pain was mine. I could use it.

I shut my eyes.

Fire bloomed behind them.

The hallway was stone and smoke. Flames clawed up the walls. Ash churned through the air. A scream echoed ahead, too high and too short. My feet bled on the stone floor, but I didn’t stop running. I held something in my arms. I didn’t look at it.

This wasn’t my memory. It was Serena’s.

We ran through trees now, narrow and dark, like they were closing in. Wolves chased us, silent, gleaming, wrong. Serena whispered to the child she held. Her legs gave out. Blood streaked her leg and soaked through her sleeve. Branches scraped her arms. The forest shoved back.One of the wolves lunged, grabbing her ankle. She hit the ground with a cry. She didn’t run again. She threw her body over the baby, shielding it.

“Stop!” I tried to shout. The sound barely left my throat.

Nothing changed. I couldn’t move. My arms strained, but they didn’t work.

The memory was too strong. I couldn’t separate myself from it. Her fear pressed into my chest, her regret settled in my stomach, her desperation rooted behind my ribs. I didn’t know where she ended and I began.

One of the robed figures leaned in closer. Their hood brushed the bars.

“You feel it now, don’t you? What she passed down? The shame. The blood. The cowardice.”

“She tried to protect me,” I said, voice rough.

“She tried to erase you. That baby wasn’t supposed to make it. You weren’t meant to become anything.”

I didn’t know if it was the bond or the drug, but I felt him.Not just the ache. The loss. The way he folded in on himself, chest tight, jaw locked. I reached out.

But what if they’d built this too? What if it wasn’t a connection, but a trap?

“Richard,” I whispered.

The image shattered.

I slammed against the bars. My shoulder stung. I braced myself on the floor and tried to breathe, tried to think.

Everything tilted sideways.

Had they taken him the way they were taking me?

My hand remained clenched. My body shook. The flames were gone, but the heat hadn’t left me.

We crossed through the gates. Red banners draped from the walls. The statues that lined the courtyard were mid-scream, their mouths frozen wide. The stone beneath us pulsed faintly like it remembered marching feet.

I caught my reflection in a warped panel of glass. My lips were cracked. My eyes were dull.

I didn’t look like me, maybe that was the point.

They wanted to replace me, strip away what I’d built, and overwrite it with something easy to control.