Alphas Possession

Chapter 3

you do because your life now depends on it,” Mr. Keller warned Mr. Black before hanging up.  Tears streamed down my cheeks. My sister was gone; I was sold, and fate was beyond cruel. The very next day, a woman in a flashy-looking sports car came to retrieve me. Her clothes screamed money, and her dark hair and equally dark eyes were vibrant. She wore an elegant suit and stilettos, her smile was soft, and her tone of voice was kind. Her energy I found soothing as she escorted me to the car. The moment I climbed in with my satchel that held Zara’s stuff, she turned on me. I jumped in fright, tugging the shoulder strap higher and getting ready to use it as a shield. “Who marked up your face? Did that prick Black do that?” She asked, her hand reaching to cup my cheek. Her touch was feather-light, her thumb brushing over my swollen eyelid. She clicks her tongue, glaring at the place I called home for far too many years. “Very well, my son will deal with him,” she says, starting the car with a growl. We drove in silence. Didn’t it bother her that her son literally brought a breeder? Maybe she was acquired the same way most omegas enjoyed this lifestyle, yet I saw the bitter truths of the control the Alphas had. “Are you hungry, Harlow?” She asked as we went around a sharp bend, heading into town. “A little,” I admit. She nods. “I saw a nice little restaurant on the way here. We will stop and grab a bite to eat,” she says, reaching for my hand. She gives it a gentle squeeze before gripping the steering wheel again. “No need to be frightened. My son is a good man, and so are his pack mates. You’ll like them,” she says, smiling at me. I was about to ask her their names when suddenly we were hit. A truck slammed into the side of our car and tossed her little car into the barrier. She screams, blood gushing from her head where she hit it on the steering wheel when the truck backs up. It then stops before accelerating and hitting us again. When the door crashed into my side, glass rained down all over the place. The creak and groan of metal were loud, but not as loud as our screams. The car finally stops and lands on its roof. I stupidly unplug my seatbelt and hit the roof, the glass tearing my hands apart. Mrs. Keller was slumped and dangling from the roof when I heard men shouting in the distance. “Down here, quick, grab the bitch, and let’s go!” I blinked, blood tainting my vision from the gash on my head, and I shook the woman. She groans, peering around, and the voices get closer. She turned, and