Taken by the Alpha: A Dead Mate’s Return

“Alpha Ronan,” one of his men approached cautiously. “The car is ready.”

“Good,” Ronan said, his voice low. “She’s coming with me.”

I struggled weakly in his grip as he dragged me outside, my bare feet stumbling over rocks and dirt.

Ronan glanced at me but said nothing as he opened the door to a sleek black SUV and shoved me inside.

The door slammed shut, and the world outside disappeared as the car began to move.

My head throbbed, my face stung, and my wrists ached from the cuffs still digging into my skin.

“Where are you taking me?” I whispered.

Ronan’s eyes flicked to me in the rearview mirror.

“Home.”

The word felt like a death sentence.

I pressed my forehead against the cool glass of the window, tears silently streaming down my face.

Whatever home meant to him, it wasn’t going to mean safety for me.

***

The car screeched to a stop, and before I could even gather my thoughts, the door flew open. Ronan grabbed my arm, yanking me out with no more care than if I were a piece of luggage.

“Get up,” he growled when I stumbled, my knees scraping against gravel.

My face was still throbbing from the slap, my legs shaky from the whip, but his iron grip dragged me forward. The cold night air hit my skin, carrying the scent of pine and smoke.

We were at some massive estate—dark stone walls, towering gates, and a pack of wolves standing guard. They watched silently as Ronan hauled me past them, their glowing eyes following every painful step I took.

I wanted to scream, to fight, but the humiliation from earlier had drained me. My face was swollen, blood still crusted on my nose and lips, and my back burned with every movement.

The inside of the house was worse than I’d expected. It wasn’t luxurious or welcoming—it was cold, cavernous, and smelled faintly of wet dog and decay. Wolves crowded in the main hall, their chatter stopping the moment Ronan stepped in with me in tow.

“Listen up!” Ronan’s voice boomed, commanding instant silence. He shoved me to my knees in the middle of the room, his hand pressing down hard on my shoulder.

“This is Elena, she a human,” he announced, his tone sharp, like he wasn’t talking about a person at all. “She’s mine now.”

Laughter rippled through the crowd, low and mocking.

I glared at the floor, my fists clenching at my sides.

“She’ll do what I say, when I say it. If anyone touches her without my permission, they’ll answer to me.”

He turned his head slightly, speaking directly into my ear. “That goes for you too. Understand?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t trust my voice not to betray the rage and fear swirling inside me.

Ronan’s grip tightened painfully. “I said, do you understand?”

“Yes,” I spat, my voice trembling with anger.

“Good.” He released me, stepping back. “Now, show us all that you know your place.”

I glanced up at him, confused. “What?”

“Kneel,” he barked.

“I’m already kneeling!”

“Lower.” His voice was ice.

My stomach twisted in humiliation. Slowly, I sank down further until my forehead nearly touched the cold, filthy floor. The wolves around us erupted into howls of laughter.

“Good girl,” Ronan sneered.

I wanted to die.

But it didn’t stop there.

“Get her a mop,” Ronan called out. “She can start earning her keep.”

Someone shoved a grimy mop and bucket into my hands. I stared at it, my hands shaking.

“I’m not—”

“You are,” Ronan cut me off, his voice sharp and final. “Clean the hall. Every inch of it.”

The wolves jeered and threw scraps of food onto the floor, making the task even more degrading. My hands tightened on the mop, my jaw clenching so hard it hurt, but I swallowed my pride and got to work.

The night blurred into a nightmare of mopping, scrubbing, and being shoved around by sneering wolves. My back screamed in pain from earlier, and my knees felt raw from kneeling.

Hours later, when I was finally done, Ronan appeared again.

“Follow me,” he said curtly, turning without waiting to see if I’d comply.

I didn’t have a choice. I followed him through the winding halls of the house, my legs trembling with exhaustion.

He stopped at the base of a grand staircase, his hand gripping the railing.

“You’ll stay out of the upper floors unless I tell you otherwise,” he said. “And if you even think about running...” His eyes glinted dangerously. “Well, you won’t like what happens.”

I nodded silently, my throat too dry to speak.

But as I followed him to my assigned “room”—a cramped, windowless space that smelled of mildew—I couldn’t help noticing the faint flicker of candlelight coming from the upper floors.

Later that night, when the house was quiet, curiosity got the better of me. I crept out of my room, my bare feet silent against the cold floor.

The fourth floor was eerily silent, the air heavy and still. The light led me to a room at the very end of the hall.

Pushing the door open, I froze.

A woman lay on the bed, pale and motionless. Her long hair fanned out over the dark sheets, and her chest rose and fell so faintly I wasn’t sure if she was breathing at all.

My stomach twisted uneasily. She wasn’t dead, but she wasn’t alive either—not fully.

Before I could move, I heard footsteps behind me.

“What are you doing here?”

Ronan’s voice cut through the air like a blade.