TEN WAYS TO KILL ALPHA PENKING

The crumpled document bounced off his chest and fell to the floor.

He didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just watched her with those cold grey eyes like she'd done exactly what he expected.

"Feel better?" he asked.

She was shaking. Her whole body trembled with rage she couldn't contain anymore. "You think you can just-just own me? Like I'm some object you can buy?"

"I already bought you."

The words hit like a slap.

"Fifteen years ago," he continued, leaning back against the couch. "Your father sold you to me before he died. Did you forget?"

Her breath caught. No. No, she hadn't forgotten. She'd buried it. Shoved it so deep into the back of her mind that sometimes she could pretend it never happened.

But it did.

She was ten years old when her father signed those papers. When he looked at her with hollow eyes and told her she had to be strong. That this was the only way.

"That contract is void," she said, hating how her voice cracked. "I was a child. It doesn't mean anything."

"It means everything." He picked up the crumpled paper from the floor, smoothing it out against his knee. "But if you want to argue legality, we can. I have lawyers who'd love to tear apart whatever defense you think you have."

She clenched her fists. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to sign."

"Why?" The question burst out of her. "You already have everything. My father's company, his money, his life. What more could you possibly want?"

He stood. Walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps that made her heart pound.

"You."

One word. Simple. Terrifying.

"I've waited fifteen years," he said quietly. "Watched you grow up in the shadows. Watched you struggle, survive, sell yourself in that filthy club just to keep your brother fed. And I let you. Do you know why?"

She couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.

"Because I wanted you to understand what it means to have nothing." His hand reached out, fingers brushing her jaw. "So when I gave you everything, you'd know exactly what you owed me."

She jerked her face away. "I owe you nothing."

"Sign the contract, Amelia."

"No."

His expression didn't change, but something shifted in the air. Something dangerous.

"Where's Dan?" he asked.

Her blood went cold.

"What?"

"Your brother." He tilted his head. "Where is he right now?"

Panic clawed up her throat. "He's safe. He's out of the city, away from all this."

"Is he?"

No. No, no, no.

"What did you do?" She lunged at him, fingers curling into his shirt. "What did you do to him?"

He caught her wrists easily. Held them against his chest. "Nothing. Yet."

The word hung between them like a blade.

"Sign the contract," he said again. "Or I'll make sure Dan never makes it home."

She wanted to scream. Wanted to claw his eyes out, wanted to run, wanted to do anything except stand here and feel her world collapse around her again.

But she couldn't.

Because he had Dan.

He always had Dan.

"You're a monster," she whispered.

"I know." He released her wrists, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a pen. Silver. Expensive. The kind of pen that signed away lives.

He held it out to her.

Her hands shook as she took it. The metal was cold against her palm.

"How long?" she asked, staring at the document on the table. "How long do you want me for?"

"Six months."

Six months. Half a year of her life, owned by the man who destroyed everything.

"And after that?"

"We'll see."

That wasn't an answer. That was a trap with no exit.

She looked down at the contract. The words blurred together. Terms and conditions she didn't want to read because she already knew what they said.

Her body. Her time. Her obedience.

All his.

"If I sign this," she said slowly, "you leave Dan alone. You let him live his life without looking over his shoulder."

"Yes."

"You promise?"

He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. "I promise."

Lies. Everything that came out of his mouth was a lie. But what choice did she have?

She pressed the pen to paper.

Her signature came out shaky. Uneven. Like her hand was trying to rebel even as her mind forced it forward.

When she finished, she dropped the pen. It clattered against the table.

"Good girl," he murmured.

She wanted to vomit.

He picked up the contract, folded it carefully, and slipped it back into the envelope. Like it was something precious. Something worth protecting.

"Now what?" she asked, her voice hollow.

"Now you move in."

Her head snapped up. "What?"

"You signed the contract. You belong to me. That means you live where I live." He walked back to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a key. "Your things will be moved by tonight."

"I didn't agree to that."

"You did." He tossed the key onto the table in front of her. "Read the contract next time before you sign it."

Rage boiled in her chest, but she swallowed it down. She had to. She had to stay calm, had to think, had to figure out how to survive this.

Six months.

She could survive six months.

And then she'd kill him.

"Can I see Dan?" she asked. "Before I move in. I want to see my brother."

Penking studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled. "No."

"You said-"

"I said I'd leave him alone. I didn't say you could see him." He buttoned his jacket, straightening the collar. "You'll see him when I decide you've earned it."

"You bastard."

"Careful." His voice dropped. "You're mine now, Amelia. That means you speak to me with respect. Understand?"

She bit down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood.

"Understand?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

Her stomach turned. "Yes, Alpha."

His smile widened. "Good. Now go home. Pack your things. A car will pick you up at eight."

He turned away, dismissing her like she was nothing.

She grabbed the key from the table and walked toward the door. Her legs felt like lead. Every step was a fight.

When she reached for the handle, his voice stopped her.

"Amelia."

She didn't turn around.

"Welcome home."

The door closed behind her with a soft click.

She stood in the hallway, surrounded by his guards, his people, his world.

And she realized something.

She wasn't just trapped.

She was already gone.

Her fingers curled around the key in her hand. Cold. Sharp. Heavy.

Six months.

She'd survive six months.

And then she'd burn his entire world to the ground.

Starting with him.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​