Alphas Possession

Chapter 3

his shoulder, his lips pulling back over his teeth in a snarl and I dropped my gaze to my lap. “I already injected her with Mr. Keller’s serum.” Mr. Black answers. “You what?” Mr. Keller roared through the phone, making Mr. Black jump. “So, wait, what does that mean? Fucking reverse his serum,” Mr. Bowman argued. I couldn’t understand why these men still tried to negotiate, since both of them seemed equally unhappy about the serum. “Like fuck you will; that was the last of my serum!” Mr. Keller snarled. Okay, at that point, I took back my previous observation. The injection wasn’t the issue; the lack of serum was. “Not my fucking problem, Keller,” Mr. Bowman snarled as I took the risk of peeking at Mr. Black. He was rubbing his temples as if he had a headache. “Mr. Bowman, you know it can’t be reversed. If you can’t share, I’m sorry, but I have to hand her over to Mr. Keller. He marked his pack last night. His DNA is no longer pure, and that was his last serum.” Mr. Black explained. I gasped. Mr. Keller, whoever he was, his heir, was solely riding on me! “I don’t see how that is my issue; not my fault he didn’t take more samples before marking his pack mates!” Mr. Black sighed, clearly done with the pointless arguing back and forth. “I have five other girls that ranked in the high forties. You can take your pick or try them all, but I am sorry, Mr. Bowman. You have eighteen samples left, and this is Mr. Keller’s last sample.” “Whatever you paid him, I will cover it.” Mr. Keller interrupts. Mr. Bowman remains quiet, waiting for his rulings. “And you can have the other girls,” Mr. Black added. I glared at him, equally shocked as I felt disgusted. “Fine, fine, we have a deal,” Mr. Bowman gave in, and Mr. Black sighed before he pinned me with his glare. “I will wire the money to you, Bowman, and Black?” “Yes, Alpha Keller.” “I will send my mother to pick up the girl; she will remain with her until she turns eighteen.” “Very well; I will personally remain with her to ensure no more blunders.” “Make sure 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