Submit to Me, Alpha

“Bring that one there,” Senti, the disgusting vamp who chooses between us for the clients yells out, pointing at me in the corner of the cargo container. The mark on my forehead, the branding each of us girls are forced to endure to mark us as Negan’s property, still burns on my dirty, tear-stained face. I’ve only been used once before by an elderly truck driver outside of Portland, where my boyfriend dropped me off for these traffickers after abducting me from my home. I was human then. I’m not anymore. Carder turned me after that first time, saying something like the demand for she-wolves was greater than humans because they could endure more violent circumstances. The transformation was excruciating, and I didn’t think I would survive. Now, I wish I hadn’t. “Get the b***h moving! We have clients waiting!” Senti yells to the deformed underlings minding us, making sure we stay quiet and submissive. My throat fills with vile, knowing that they’re leading me to nothing but more pain and torture; the worst torture a girl can go through. One of the creatures grips my hair, dragging me to the front so Senti can get a hold of me. “There’s our new merchandise. Don’t worry, sweetheart. I found a good one to help break you in. But first, you’re gonna need this,” he lifted a syringe with a cloudy substance in it, yanked my arm forward and injected it into my vein. The sting doesn’t last long as a euphoric chill flows through my arm before I feel it spread to the rest of my body. A whimper leaves me, but I hear it through a fog and haze, my head feeling heavy but also like it’s floating at the same time. Before my body completely gives into the darkness the drug brings, I hear howling and snarling echo through the night air. Senti’s look of panic and horror are the last images I see before I’m pulled under. Beeping is the first noise that breaks through to my foggy brain. Flora, my wolf, is speaking to me in my head, but I can’t make out her words quite yet. Sharing my head with someone else is freaky enough as it is, but now that I can hear her there again, relief floods me, knowing I can only hear her because the drugs that suppressed my new wolf are clearing from my system. “This one is waking,” a soft, female voice calls out above me. I hear footsteps walking away and a door opening. I force my eyes to open, and they eventually do with a heavy flutter. They feel crusty and gross, but once their seal is broken, I force them to not close again, looking around frantically. This looks like a normal hospital room, not the dirty motel room or back of a semi truck like I was expecting. Bleached white and sterile, everything is clean, making me feel dirtier than ever with everything I’ve endured the last couple of weeks. A buff older man with sandy blonde hair and an intimidating presence walks in. A short woman with perfectly styled curls and a kind face follows. Their eyes land on me, and their pity and sympathy are clear as day. The older woman comes forward, standing over me and her hands fluttering about like she’s wanting to touch me but unsure if she should. “James, go get the doctor. She seems uncomfortable with your being here,” the woman’s voice is kind but full of authority. The man smiles sadly, understanding on his face, and turns to leave the room. “There. He’s gone, my dear. Your doctor is a woman too, so not to worry. You were the last one to wake up, and none of the others knew who you were. Can you tell me your name so we can help you to find your family?” My family? No, I don’t have a family. I came to America through an adoption agency when I was a baby, and the family that originally wanted me changed their minds about a year into the adoption. I wasn’t a convenient accessory like they wanted, so the woman got a Pomeranian instead, and I was placed in foster care. That's the story I was told, anyway. I shook my head at the woman, unable to find my voice. “No? No you don’t have a family?” She asks. I shook my head again. “What about your original pack? Do you think you could tell us that so we can contact your alpha?” Alpha? What is she talking about? And what’s a pack? I looked at her in confusion, not sure how to answer. Her face fills with worry, and her hand pats mine sympathetically. A young female doctor walks in, who smiles warmly at us. “Luna Hazel, hello,” she nodded, baring her neck slightly to the older woman. What a weird thing to do. “Victoria, how are you, dear?” The older woman, Luna Hazel, asked. “I’m doing alright,” the pretty woman turned a dazzling smile towards me, “What about you, miss? How are you feeling? Do you feel queasy at all? Any pain?” Pain? My life is nothing but pain. I thought I had finally found comfort in Carder, then he used me in his traffic ring and made me a monster. “What about a name? What can we call you?” the doctor, Victoria, asked. I looked up, meeting her softened expression. “Natasha,” I croaked out, my throat dry and scratchy. The old woman rushed to help by bringing a cup of water with a straw to my lips. I take several long gulps. “Natasha? Do you have a last name, sweetheart?” She asks, setting the cup on the side table. “Natasha Fedorova,” I tell her. “Miss Fedorov, do you know the name of your alpha or can you tell us which pack you’re from?” I contort my face in confusion. “What’s an alpha?” A surprised, worried expression flashed on the doctor’s face as her eyes snapped at the older woman’s. Luna Hazel grabs my hand, squeezing it gently, “You don’t know what an alpha is?” I met her concerned look, shaking my head once. “Hmm…” She looks up to the door momentarily and I notice the big man from before leaning against the wall just outside the room, “Natasha, were you born a werewolf?” I cower into the bed. Will they kill me when they find out I used to be human? Her face softens, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You are not in any trouble. We just need to know.” I looked frantically between the 3 of them, hesitant to answer. “I was born human,” I whispered hoarsely after a few nervous seconds, “Carder made me….like this,” I told them. He was responsible for all this. “Who’s Carder?” The man asks from the hallway. Even though he’s intimidating, I feel in the back of my mind I can trust him. Flora’s voice finally breaks through the barrier in my mind. “Finally!” She gasped, panting like she was strained, “You can trust him. He’s alpha.” I smacked my dry lips a few times, contemplating her words. “He was….he was my boyfriend. He….told me….he said he was taking me somewhere special….then….” I closed my eyes, trying to shut the images of that horrible night out. I thought we were going on a romantic date before he took me to a hotel to spend our first night together. He told me to dress for the special occasion. Little did I know he sold my virginity to the highest bidder, entrapping me in a secluded trailer with the sick old man until he was done with me. He walked into the trailer with a cocky smirk, sneering down at my broken body before looming over me, gripping me by the hair and biting into the back of my neck. I screamed in agony as the burning spread from his canines to the rest of my body, like acid running over my skin. It took days of screaming and thrashing, my bones feeling like they were breaking over and over again. On the last day of transforming, Carder took a branding iron and burned a symbol onto my forehead. I haven’t seen my reflection since I left home, but I could feel the raised ridges of a circle with intricate grooves on the inside when running my fingers over it when it healed. That was the last day I saw him. He loaded me into the trunk of a sedan, still in pain because of transforming, and now from being burned, my face still sizzling. We were in that car for hours, maybe days, before I saw the light of day again. The trunk opened at a truck stop, and Senti with his minions pulled me from the trunk, tossing me into the back of a van. That's where I first heard Flora. She tried to comfort me, but scared the life from me instead. By the time I accepted her, accepted the words she was telling me about being a werewolf, Senti injected something in my arm that made me lose her presence in my mind. The man clears his throat, looking into my eyes. I can see the compassion and understanding in them, and don’t feel afraid. “May I come in? I don’t want to scare you, and I would like to help you understand what you are now.”