Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 10

Kali

I bite my lip hard, pushing back the fear creeping up my spine. How could I have been so fucking stupid? Chasing after those rogues like a clueless pup, without paying attention to my surroundings. I had lost sight of the stream’s direction, failing to ensure I was still heading the right way. And now, I had walked straight into the lion’s den I was seriously warned to avoid.

Damn those rogues.

The massive man in front of me—his scarred arms thick like tree trunks—glares down at me, holding my bag high above my head like a trophy. His dark eyes flicker with amusement, but his lips curl in disgust.

“I don’t want trouble,” I say, raising my hands slowly. “They stole from me. I was just trying to get my bag back. Let me take it, and I’ll leave peacefully. It was never my intention to step foot on your precious land.”

He scoffs, his lip twitching in irritation before his gaze darkens. “How dare a woman look me in the eye and talk back to me?” he hisses, his deep voice laced with venom. “Do you even know who the hell I am? I’m a great warrior, one who has helped conquer packs and slaughter countless wolves.”

I want to retort, but I swallow the words down, knowing it won’t do me any good. I keep my expression neutral, refusing to give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing fear in my eyes.

“What’s your name?” he demands. “What pack are you from? I bet it’s some pathetic, lowlife pack—just like you. Your Alpha needs to be dealt with for failing to tame a pretty bitch like you.”

My fingers curl into fists, nails digging into my palms. “I don’t belong to a pack,” I say through gritted teeth. “And I don’t want any trouble. Just give me my bag, and I’ll—”

Fuck.

Pain explodes across my face. My head snaps to the side, vision blurring as I stagger. Warm liquid trickles from my nose, and when I touch it, my fingertips come away red.

He punched me.

Laughter erupts around me. A sick, twisted chorus of amusement.

The man smirks, flexing his fingers like he’s itching to hit me again. “Now, bitch, get on your knees and kiss my boot,” he sneers. “Maybe then I’ll give you your bag.”

Fire floods my veins, and a low growl rumbles in my chest. My body tenses, my wolf snarling inside me. My pride screams in protest, my rage blinding. I don’t stand a chance against him—he’s massive, twice my size—but he’s no Beta, no Alpha. Just a brute.

And I refuse to bow.

“You fucking bastard,” I spit, my control snapping.

His smirk vanishes, nostrils flaring in anger. But I don’t wait. My claws rip through my fingertips in an instant—a mid-shift, something not all werewolves can do. His eyes widen, but before he can react, I slash upward.

He screams.

Blood splatters across my face as his left eye is ripped from its socket. He drops my bag, clutching his face, howling in agony.

I snatch up my bag and turn to run, but I freeze. More of his men are rushing toward me as my wolf pushes forward, ready to shift fully, but then something tightens around my neck.

A rope.

Shit.

It yanks me backward, cutting off my air. I claw at it, gasping, kicking, but more ropes wrap around my limbs, dragging me to the ground.

I thrash, I scream—but rough, calloused hands pin me down.

Too many.

Through my blurry vision, I see him again—the bastard I blinded. He’s staggering forward, one hand still pressed to his ruined face. His remaining eye burns with fury.

“You little bitch,” he snarls, his voice hoarse with pain. “You think you can walk into Blood Fang territory, claw out my fucking eye, and just walk away?” He kneels, yanking my head back by my hair, his breath hot and putrid against my face. “You think you’re strong? I will make you beg for your life.”

A sickening grin stretches across his lips before he barks an order. “Take her away.”

A warrior hesitates. “Where?”

“The taming house?” another suggests.

Taming house?

“No.” His voice is a razor-sharp whisper. “Take her to the Black Hole.”

Silence.

Black hole.The name sends a shiver through me and I watch the warriors shift uncomfortably.

“But sir, she won’t survive there,” one murmurs. “That place is for the worst criminals.”

“Exactly.” He grins cruelly. “She’s not a proper lady. She’s a fucking wild beast. She tore my eye out—so let’s see if she can survive.”

Someone swallows hard. “What if Alpha Jack finds out—”

“I’ll handle it,” he snaps. “This isn’t the first time a woman has been thrown in there. The Alpha has done worse. Now do as I say.”

Alpha Jack.

The name once again sends ice through my veins. Something deep in my gut twists violently. If this bastard is cruel, what kind of monster is his Alpha?

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