The Alpha’s Human Sacrifice

1.

The spoon slipped from Josephine’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a sound so sharp it felt like a dagger slicing through the suffocating silence. She froze, unable to move or speak, her ears ringing with the words her father had just spoken. For a moment, she thought—no, she hoped—she had misheard him.

“This is the only way, Josephine,” her father said, his voice steady but cold. Unyielding. Like this decision had already been made. Like her life was nothing more than another debt to be settled.

She blinked at him, her throat dry, as if the very air had been sucked from the room. “What… what did you just say?”

“I said,” her father repeated slowly, as if explaining something to a child, “you will be going to the Midnight Claw Pack as the Alpha’s bride.”

Her mind reeled, spinning in directions she couldn’t follow. The Alpha. Midnight Claw Pack. Bride. Desperate for some reassurance, Josephine turned to her stepmother, hoping for an ounce of sanity. But her stepmother’s face remained calm and detached, her mouth set in the tight line she always wore.

Her stepmother didn’t believe in softness—not for her.

“What?” The word escaped her like a rasp. Her chest tightened, as though the air had been stolen from the room. “You can’t—you can’t be serious.”

Her father’s jaw tightened, the lines on his face deep and worn, a map of every burden he carried as the village chief. “You know what’s been happening,” he said, his voice heavy. “The drought ruined the crops. The businesses have been failing. We haven’t had enough to meet the pack’s demands, and the Alpha’s patience has run out.”

“So you’re just giving me to him?” Josephine’s voice cracked as she looked around the table, desperation clawing at her throat. “You’re offering me like some sacrificial lamb?”

“It’s not like that,” her stepmother said, her voice cold and detached. Her expression remained unchanged as she added, “This is about survival. The pack expects tribute, and we’ve already been shown mercy once. This time, they won’t wait. You’ve heard the stories, haven’t you?”

Josephine had. Everyone had.

When a village failed to meet the shifter packs’ demands—whether it was gold, food, or other offerings—the punishment was swift and brutal. Farmers ripped apart in their fields. Families disappearing into the night. And in the most desperate cases, when villages couldn’t pay their dues, they were given one final chance to make amends: a bride. The Alpha didn’t ask for them by name, but once the demand was made, there was no refusing.

But there was a catch—a cruel, sickening catch.

The Alpha had to ‘accept’ the bride. If he didn’t… she disappeared. No one knew where. No one dared to ask. But the village was still required to pay its dues, and the bloodshed that followed was legendary.

However, if he did accept the bride, the village she hailed from would be given a decade of peace. To the Midnight Claw Pack, that would pass in the blink of an eye. To the people, it would mean everything.

But…

He’d never accepted one. Not in twenty years.

And now, it was Josephine’s turn.

“You cannot do this to me! If it’s a bride he wants, it doesn’t have to be me! Why me, when you have four other daughters sitting right here!” Her voice cracked, rising in pitch.

Her gaze darted around the table, searching for an ally. But the sight of her stepsisters only made the bile rise in her throat. Annalise, the eldest, leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, her blonde hair gleaming like spun gold in the sunlight. She didn’t even bother hiding the small, satisfied smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. She wasn’t shocked. She wasn’t sympathetic. She knew.

Josephine turned to Cecily next, the second oldest, desperate for anything that didn’t feel like betrayal. Her hazel eyes were glassy with unshed tears, her lips trembling. She looked like she might start sobbing at any moment. That hurt worse. She knew too.

The twins, Marianne and Lila, older by two years, exchanged nervous glances, their fingers twisting together in their laps. They wouldn’t even look at her, but the relief on their faces was unmistakable. They were safe.

Josephine gripped the edge of the table so tightly her knuckles ached. “You all knew,” she whispered, the accusation heavy in the air. “Didn’t you?”

“Jo—” her father began, his tone weary, but she wasn’t finished.

“You knew, and you didn’t say anything,” she snapped, cutting him off as hot tears stung her eyes. She hated that she was crying, hated the weakness in it, but she couldn’t stop.

Her father didn’t meet her eyes. Her stepmother didn’t flinch. And her sisters couldn’t even muster the courage to deny it.

“Yes,” Annalise said finally, breaking the silence. Her smirk deepened, chin lifting like she was proud of herself. “We knew. What of it? You should feel honored, Jo. A lowly girl like you, chosen to marry the Alpha? Imagine that.”

“Honored?” Josephine spat, her body shaking as she struggled to hold onto her sanity. “You call this an honor? You’re sending me to my death!”

Her father finally raised his head. His gray eyes, tired and heavy, met hers with the weight of every burden he carried as the village chief. “It’s not death,” he said softly. “You’ll be a bride, not a sacrifice.”

Josephine laughed, harsh and bitter, the sound choking in her throat. “Don’t pretend there’s a difference! You’ve heard the stories—everyone’s heard them! The Wolf of Midnight doesn’t want a wife. He wants a lamb to slaughter. Of course he wouldn’t accept me! And then what happens?”

“No one knows what happens to the rejected brides,” her father said, but his words rang hollow. He wasn’t stupid. He knew exactly what this meant.

“And you’re willing to take that risk?” Her voice rose, trembling with disbelief and fury. “You’re willing to gamble me?”

The room seemed to hold its breath. Her father rubbed a hand over his face, looking older than Josephine had ever seen him. “Josephine,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, “this isn’t just about you. It’s about the village.”

“Of course it is,” she said bitterly, the fight draining from her voice as the weight of his words settled over her like a stone.

He took a deep breath. “The crops have failed two years in a row. The merchants have nothing to trade, and the pack’s demands are growing. They already forgave us once, but they won’t forgive us again. If we don’t give them something, they’ll destroy us. All of us. The farmers. The shopkeepers. The children.”

Josephine shook her head, her throat tightening. “So you’re giving me to them. To him. How is that fair?”

“You’re the chief’s daughter,” her stepmother said smoothly, cutting through the air like a blade. “You’re responsible for your people.”

“I didn’t ask for that responsibility!” Josephine shouted, her voice breaking. “I didn’t ask to be anyone’s savior! It doesn’t have to be me! Why not Annalise, or Cecily, or anyone else?”

Her stepmother’s gaze didn’t waver. “The Alpha despises blondes,” she said, her tone as even as if commenting on the weather.

Josephine stared at her, incredulous. “You cannot possibly believe that?” She laughed, sharp and bitter, shaking her head. “No. This isn’t about the Alpha. This is about you. You didn’t even hesitate, did you? Your precious daughters couldn’t possibly go, so you threw me to the wolves instead!”

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” her stepmother said, folding her hands neatly in her lap, ignoring the rest of Josephine’s outburst. She continued, “The Alpha asked for a bride, and you’re the only one who fits the bill.”

Josephine couldn’t breathe. The room spun around her, hot and stifling, until she couldn’t take it anymore. She shoved the chair back so hard it toppled over, and before anyone could say another word, she fled.

She didn’t stop until she was in her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, gasping for air as hot tears streamed down her face. Her whole body shook with rage, helplessness, and terror.

She was going to die.

The Alpha. The Wolf of Midnight. The monster of every whispered tale and nightmare. No one survived in his presence longer than they needed to. The merchants who brought offerings said he barely spoke a word, that his golden eyes alone were enough to strip a man of his dignity, his strength. And now, she was supposed to face him. To be his bride.

She clutched at her chest, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the stories she’d heard rushed back. Stories of his brutality. How he’d torn a man limb from limb simply for fumbling an apology. How he didn’t just kill his enemies but left them as warnings, their bodies twisted and broken in ways no human hand could manage.

And what about the brides? The ones who had come before her? No one dared ask what happened to them, but the silence around their fates was louder than any scream.

Her fingers curled into the worn fabric of her skirt as another sob broke free.

She didn't want to die.

But that was what fate, her family, circumstance seemed to have in store for her..