Sold To The Alphas I Hate novel Chapter 19

Chapter 19: Questioning Eira

Eira’s POV

Sitting on the toilet seat, I let out a quiet breath of relief. Roman was gone.

Still, my thoughts wouldn’t rest.

’Why is he caring towards me all of a sudden, when in the past all he used to do was bully me every chance he got, as if I was nothing but a tool to pass his boring time? He must want to fuck me. That’s all this is. He’s just making sure I recover quickly so they can all use me the way they want.’

I looked around the bathroom to see if I could find anything useful, but there was nothing. I needed something potent. Something that could kill me in an instant.

Silver.

Every werewolf feared it. I was sure they had silver blades or guns with silver bullets. Kael was the Alpha. He had to have something. Maybe in his room. Maybe locked in his office.

I had to find out where.

With a deep breath, I focused on the task at hand, finally emptying my bladder. It felt like I hadn’t relieved myself in days. I didn’t want to leave just yet. I wasn’t ready to see any of them again. The bathroom felt like a temporary sanctuary. I decided to stay locked inside a while longer.

Eventually, I forced myself to stand and walked toward the mirror.

It had been so long since I had seen myself clearly. A real mirror. A full reflection. The places I had been kept never had one. In those dark, windowless rooms, there was no need. My days had been reduced to the same brutal cycle—getting fucked, cleaning myself when I could, eating whatever scraps they gave me, and sleeping. Then repeating it all the next day.

The only time I was given a short break was when I gave birth. They let me rest for maybe a week. That was all. Even pregnancy hadn’t spared me. Some of them had sick minds. They enjoyed using a pregnant woman. I had begged them, pleaded with everything in me, just not to harm the baby in my belly. I promised I would do whatever they wanted. Anything. Just don’t hurt my child.

As I observed my current self in the mirror, I felt like I was looking at a stranger—someone I had never seen.

She looked like a ghost. Skin pale and paper-thin, cheeks sunken, dark shadows under lifeless eyes. Her bones pressed against skin that barely held them. A shell. A body that had been brutally abused and starved for ages.

There was a time I found myself pretty. It’s because of him, because he said I was beautiful.

After falling in love with him, I started paying attention to myself. To how I looked. To what I wore. He used to praise me, calling me the most beautiful woman in his world. Every time he said it, I believed him a little more. His words filled me with confidence, and I put all my effort into becoming someone he could be proud of.

But now, the way he looks at me felt like he’s staring at filth. I hate him. I truly do. But it still hurts.

I was no longer that young girl in love, no longer soft and beautiful, no longer innocent. I didn’t need to look under my clothes to know what my body looked like now. Scars ran across it, physical reminders of every time I was broken.

Only my face had been spared.

The traffickers had made sure of that. A scarred face brought less money. Ugly whores were cheaper, easier to throw away. But a beautiful one could still fetch a high price.

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