Half-Blood Alpha

1. Kidnapped

*Luna*

My eyelids were heavy; it wasn't easy, no matter how hard I tried to open them. Additionally, a dull headache was splitting my skull, and noises coming from every direction deepened my suffering. I tried to get up, but my arms and legs turned out to be limp as if my whole body was under the influence of anesthesia. I couldn't move, and the smells that finally reached me suggested I wasn’t in my home or even on the couch in the pub where I had probably had too much to drink. My heart began to accelerate extremely fast, and panic cut off the flow of oxygen to my brain as the noise turned into screams, and the screams took the form of words.

"Help!"

From everywhere, I only registered one word spoken by different voices, but each had several things in common: Each belonged to a woman, was equally scared, and was sobbing in fear.

"Luna, wake up. Please," Natalie, my work colleague, whispered in my ear. My heart rejoiced, and I must have shed joy tears because her previously frightened voice had turned into a happy cry.

"They spiked our drinks. We had to be watched. It was probably one of my father's enemies. I'm sorry, Luna, it's my fault. You ended up here because of me." Natalie apologized, although I didn't understand why.

Minutes passed, maybe hours, and the terrible, pleading cries continued. I counted at least ten voices banging on the metal, calling for help and rescue. My brain slowly began to conclude that we had been kidnapped. Why? That's what I'd like to know. But for now, I would like to find out whether, apart from being drugged and paralyzed, I was also harmed in another way. Inside, I was screaming like those women, sobbing and despairing with fear, praying for a quick and happy return home.

My body slowly started to regain function. First, my fingers started moving, then my hands, legs, and head, and only when I regained complete control over my body did I open my eyes. The sight I saw made my inner fear and tears come out. I was kidnapped. And not for ransom. Even though I wanted to tell myself that it wasn't true, the situation I found myself in was not one of those from romantic novels, but rather those thrillers where everything that could be the worst, the most terrible, did happen.

Women of various races, ages, and nationalities, crying, bruised, and beaten, comforted each other while sitting huddled against the wall of the metal container in which we were kept. Nobody put us here to call our families for ransom. Oh no. Our destiny will be much worse, more brutal, and deprived of dignity. I squeezed my legs together in fear, knowing full well that I wouldn't be able to save myself from the rape, but I would fight until the end. Even if I lose, I won't give up without a fight. This is not how I have been going through life for the last ten years. I have never given up and have no intention of giving up now.

"Luna," Natalie said my name in despair and threw herself into my arms.

I immediately caught her, even though she was surprisingly taller and stronger than me. The age difference probably meant she treated me like an older sister who should comfort her younger siblings, and that's precisely how it was.

"We will get through this. I won't give up without a fight. I won't let you get hurt, do you understand?" I whispered in her ear, hugging her tightly.

Natalie sobbed into my shoulder, squeezing so hard she almost broke my ribs, but I didn't protest. I was as afraid as she was, and although I fed her hope, I didn't believe in it myself.

"Do you know how long we've been here?" I asked, wondering if anyone was looking for us.

"Two days, I guess. The other girls say they're here longer." Natalie sobbed, slowly breaking away from the hug.

"None of them remember how they got here, only that they drank too much at the bar. A few of them have bruises and minor injuries, but none of them were abused." Natalie looked at me with her big, frightened brown eyes. "I don't feel her. It must have been a strong dose of Wolfsbane. I don't feel her presence." Natalie cried and threw herself into my arms again.

I didn't understand what she meant. Apart from the term wolfsbane, her words made no sense to me.

"It's okay. Everything will be fine." I comforted her and looked at other women.

Each of them had messy hair, each had smeared makeup from crying, and each was dressed in clothes that, apart from the stains of sweat and blood, smelt of urine. My bladder had just started bothering me, and I realized I had no choice but to do like the others and relieve myself by peeing under myself. I closed my eyes and started pushing gently, soaking my favorite jeans with warm urine.

"Are you peeing?" Natalie asked in surprise, moving away from the slowly spreading puddle below.

Despite the situation I found myself in, hearing her words made me blush with embarrassment. I had just peed myself at the age of thirty-two and in the presence not so much of a colleague but of my subordinate.

"Do you see a bathroom around here somewhere?" I commented, avoiding her gaze.

I stared at the metal ceiling, wondering if the other women felt the same way as me. A mixture of embarrassment and relief that it wasn't poop.

"You're right. There's no point in pretending; at some point, we'll leave here, or they'll take us out, and we won't be beautiful and made up but dirty, smelly, and humiliated." Natalie replied and started peeing herself.

"How did this happen? Do you remember anything?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"I passed out after the third Daiquiri, but I had managed to drink six of them before," I added, remembering our previous outings together, surprised at my sudden change of level for alcohol tolerance.

"I drank whiskey, and I only remember six glasses. And I have a high tolerance for alcohol. But I remember that the fourth glass tasted different, somehow stronger, but I drank it. I think that's where it started. They drugged me slowly because of my tolerance, and they must have only drugged you with the last drink; since the effect lasted so long on you, you must have been given a strong dose of Wolfsbane." She explained, mentioning the plant again.

"They must have been watching us. Not only in the pub but earlier, maybe even for several days or weeks. I think I was the only victim; they took you by accident, maybe as a bonus. I don't know, but my dad will be looking for me. I'm sure he's already informed the council and offered a bounty for me. After all, I promised to come to the pack for a week the next day. And I always inform him if anything changes." I watched with wide eyes, listening to my friend's chatter.

"His Delta, Carl, was supposed to wait for me at the station. He must have started the search on Saturday morning, and if Carl didn't sniff me out, he certainly didn't suspect ordinary rogues; it must have been the work of some organization that works on someone's behalf. The council must have appointed a unit to my case; after all, it's not often that a leader's daughter is kidnapped under the watchful eye of her bodyguards." Natalie continued speaking in English, which was utterly unintelligible to me. What pack, what Delta, does she think she is the heroine of one of the novels our publishing house so eagerly publishes?

I didn't want to interrupt her and explain to her that this was not fiction but real life, and if someone was looking for us, it was not a pack of big, solid, and fictional wolves driven by the power of a magical bond to find their beloved mate. This is real life, and if you don't accidentally have a working phone with you, you won't get out of trouble.

"Someone's coming here."

One of the women announced, and they all ran towards us at one pace, moving as far away from the door as possible. Together with Natalie, I stood up and made room for these frightened women. Although my heart was beating as fast as a hummingbird flapping its wings, and my legs were shaking with fear, the will of the fight took me to the very front, standing face to face with the opening metal door of the container.

"You can't leave any traces. If the boss finds out that you checked the goods and, what's worse, damaged them, you won't have time to escape, and he will stick his claws into you and tear out your heart in front of others. So you only have thirty minutes, and better use this time well." A low and chilling male voice instructed someone before emerging into the sunlight, blinding us.

"Look, you even have a volunteer." He laughed, making me feel sick. "She may not be the youngest, and she smells like the rest, but she has nice t**s. I think she'll do; what do you think, Lee?"

I blinked several times, trying to see the faces of the disgusting bastards whose sun was shining from behind.

"I prefer redheads; they have more fire in them." Lee commented, dissatisfied, "But maybe you're right. Why do I need someone who will fight? Since I have little time, I must take what is willing to cooperate." He laughed and turned towards me, causing fear and panic and fueling the spark to fight.

"I will not give up," I whispered, gritting my teeth and clenching my fists, ready to fight.

The man came closer, revealing his face, which made me feel sick, as did his voice and intentions. His face resembled Freddie Krugger, burned in many places. His protruding, gross belly was wrapped around a similarly colored sweater that smelled of sweat, vinegar, and some cheap perfume. His smile, with which he greeted me, perfectly reflected those terrible photos placed on cigarette packs.

"Hello, beautiful. It's your lucky day. Be good, and I'll let you drink water afterward." He started slowly getting closer and closer.

The girls behind me were shaking, sobbing, and hugging each other more and more, creating space between us. I stepped back, but only with one foot, assuming the stance I believed my self-defense coach had taught me. My hands were still clenched into fists and rigid at my sides.

Don't show that you're scared, and when he comes closer, you hit him in the neck with all your might.

My instructor’s words echoed in my head, encouraging me. I knew the consequences of this hit, and I was always afraid of doing it, but at that moment, I wasn't worried that I might kill the guy; at that moment, it was my plan, and even if I managed to get out of this alive and stand in court, I have to acknowledge it for an act of self-defense.

"Why aren't you talking? Are you mute?" He sneered, licking his filthy lips.

Come on, just a few more steps. I urged him on in my mind, getting ready to attack. The guy listened to me, and three seconds later, my fist was in the center of his throat, cutting off his oxygen supply. Without waiting for his friend to recover from the shock and distract me from the sleaze, I moved on, hitting the same point several times, increasing the force of the blow each time. My trainer was right; the adrenaline was doing its job, and I felt a surge of energy with every second.

"You stupid whore." His friend finally came to his senses and grabbed my hair, literally tearing me away from his friend lying motionless on the floor.

The girls were screaming, staring at the dead, fat guy who had wanted to rape me or one of them moments ago. His friend looked with disbelief and fear, first at the corpse, then at me, standing, raising my fists, ready for another fight.

"You'll regret that cunt. He was my brother-in-law." He shouted before pulling a telescopic baton behind his back and moving towards me.

I had no chance with this tool, and after the first blow to the side, I screamed and lowered my guard. The next blow soared higher, hitting me in the head so hard that I fell to the ground, losing consciousness immediately.