The Alpha Who Auctioned His Wife

Mireya

The morning I planned to leave with my mother, I never once considered the possibility that someone would be waiting for me.

I stopped short the second her scent reached me.

She didn’t belong.

Gardenias—too heavy, too deliberate—mixed with something sharp and chemical, a perfume meant to smother her real smell. It lingered inside our small den like a warning. My bare feet touched the cool planks as I moved farther in, slow and cautious, claws aching to break free beneath my skin.

And there she was.

A stranger sat on our couch as if she’d always owned it, spine straight, legs crossed, heels pressed into the rug with quiet authority. Her hair was pulled tight into a polished bun, and the moment she noticed me, her lips curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Who are you supposed to be?” I growled, stepping forward. My wolf prowled uneasily inside me. “And why are you in my house? Leave. Now.”

Her gaze dragged over me with clear disdain. “Mm. That face…” She clicked her tongue, ignoring my demand entirely. “Ivyclaw blood does produce striking features. Shame it also produces such an unrefined attitude.”

The jab landed deeper than I wanted to admit, but I kept my expression still.

“Say what you came to say,” I snapped, lowering my center of gravity. “Because if you don’t walk out that door, I will make you.”

Only then did she fully turn toward me, folding her arms like a judge about to pass sentence. “I’m a messenger. Alpha Voren has acquired you.”

My breath stuttered. “Acquired?”

She smiled wider. “Sold. Handed over willingly—by your pack, your Alpha, and yes, even your dear former husband, Dominic. All signatures accounted for.” Her voice coiled around my chest. “You’re being transferred as Alpha Voren’s secondary companion. A political arrangement.”

My legs nearly gave out. “That’s impossible. That’s illegal.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” she replied lightly, producing an aged scroll stamped with multiple seals. “Not under werewolf trade statutes. Particularly not for… compromised bloodlines.”

The name burned my throat.

“Voren,” I breathed. “The same Alpha Marianne defended? The one who assaulted a child?”

She waved a dismissive hand. “Details. The rogue had no standing. You, however, are Ivyclaw-born. Healthy. Capable of producing heirs. And most importantly—unclaimed.”

Something inside me snapped. I launched forward.

I never reached her.

Two massive wolves moved faster than thought, slamming into place between us. Alpha Voren’s guards. I bared my fangs, snarling, but they didn’t flinch.

Then the door opened again.

I turned—and felt my heart drop.

Dominic. Marianne at his side. And behind them, filling the doorway like a living nightmare, Alpha Voren himself.

My wolf howled inside my skull.

“There she is,” Marianne purred, stepping closer. “Our little bargaining chip.” She tilted her head toward Dominic. “Did you explain that her sister was the original deal?”

Cold flooded my veins.

“What did you say?”

“Your twin,” she clarified smoothly. “She was meant to be delivered. But she vanished, didn’t she? Ran off with some rogue?” Marianne’s eyes glittered. “So now you’ll take her place. Dead blood has no value.”

I swallowed hard. “She’s gone,” I whispered. “She’s dead.”

Dominic recoiled. Marianne merely smirked.

“You keep insisting that. No remains, no proof. She could be anywhere—warm, hidden, pregnant.”

I screamed and surged forward again, but Dominic grabbed me this time. His hands crushed my wrists.

I searched his face desperately.

There was nothing there.

“This is necessary,” he said without emotion.

“You’re condemning me,” I spat. “Remember that.”

He shoved me straight into Voren’s arms. The stench—decay, blood, suffering—made my stomach twist.

“No!” My mother’s cry split the air.

She rushed forward, but guards restrained her. I met her gaze and gave a tiny shake of my head.

Trust me.

She sobbed—but nodded.

I went limp in Voren’s grasp. My wolf protested, but I murmured, Soon.

They forced me into an armored vehicle. I memorized everything—the guards, the locks, the road. No wolfsbane. No open windows.

Good.

I counted silently.

The road curved. Trees blurred.

I let my wolf rise.

When the turn came, I shifted.

Metal shattered. Pain exploded. I ran.

Branches tore at me as howls erupted behind. But these woods were mine.

I reached the hollow tree, found my bag, sent the message.

Airport. Terminal 2. Now.

The reply came instantly.

I’m here.

I made it.

When I saw my mother, hood up, eyes wet, I took her hand.

“Mom,” I whispered, breaking.

“…we’re finally leaving.”