Chosen by the Beast Alpha

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Lena’s POV

A surge of terror froze me for an instant before I began struggling desperately. But the strength of a Beta male was still overwhelmingly superior to that of a recently recovered Omega. He dragged me roughly toward the narrow back alley beside the dry cleaners, cluttered with discarded junk and recycling bins. My back slammed against the cold, rough brick wall, sending a dull ache through me as the dust cover I’d been holding slipped from my grasp and landed on the damp, filthy ground.

"Look who we have here," Luke sneered, his face flushed with anger and a twisted excitement. His breath came in ragged gasps, his bloodshot eyes fixed on me with a mix of resentment and nauseating hunger. "Our noble Lena. I’ve heard some interesting rumors, sweetheart."

He pulled out a coarse rope and mercilessly bound my wrists to the slender trunk of the only tree in the alley. I was trapped between the rough bark and the scorching heat of his body.

A wave of pain washed over me, carrying a terrifying sense of déjà vu—years ago, in the Fosters’ backyard beneath that old oak tree, Stepmother Celia had once ordered two warrior wolves to bind me like this. The cold, shame, and despair from that time crawled out from the depths of my memory, overlapping with the present reality.

Luke gripped my chin with his fingers, forcing my head up. Occasionally, cars passed by outside the alley, but no one noticed the commotion here.

"Let me take a good look," he murmured, narrowing his eyes as his thumb roughly traced my cheekbone. "Even though you’re just an Omega, your face is disgustingly pretty. No wonder you drive those Alphas wild." His fingers trailed down my jawline to my neck, pressing hard enough to make me wince. "But don’t forget—when you were at your lowest, who was it that helped you? Who gave you the money to go to Silvercrest Pack?"

Before I could respond, his grip on my chin loosened abruptly, only for his hand to slide downward. I barely had time to react before his palm collided heavily with my backside.

Smack!

A sharp slap echoed through the narrow alley. My entire body stiffened as humiliation boiled up inside me like scalding water. Instead of pulling away, Luke’s hand lingered, squeezing harder, his fingers digging into my flesh through the fabric.

"Skinny as a stick, but you’ve got enough back here," he chuckled darkly. I could feel every press of his fingers, every kneading motion—each touch so casual it made my stomach churn with disgust.

"I’ve been thinking, Lena," he murmured, his voice dropping lower as his lips brushed my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine. "I can be generous. I’ll overlook the fact that you’ve been with other men. If you just come back to me, we’ll call it even." His other hand joined in, one still gripping my hip possessively while the other seized my chin again, forcing me to meet his eyes—filled with nothing but lust and violence. "I’ll show you who can really satisfy you, in any way you like."

Humiliation and fury drowned out my fear. I wrenched my face away, breaking free from his grasp, my voice trembling with rage but crystal clear:

"Get lost, Luke. You betrayed me first. I deserve someone a thousand—no, a million times better than you. And that will never be you. You make me sick."

That shattered the last shred of his restraint. The veneer of rationality vanished from his eyes, replaced by pure, unbridled fury.

"You ungrateful bitch!"

The hand that had been gripping my hip suddenly shot up, clamping around my wrist like a vice before slamming it against the tree trunk above my head. I felt my bones creak under the pressure, sharp pain shooting through me. His other hand fisted in the high collar of my sweater—then yanked downward.

Riiip.

The sound of tearing fabric cut through the silence of the alley. The frigid air instantly assaulted my exposed neck, collarbone, and chest, raising goosebumps across my skin. The rough edge of the torn wool scraped against me, sending fresh stings of pain radiating outward.

"Let me go! Luke, you’re insane!" I twisted and thrashed with all my might, my legs kicking wildly. One foot connected hard with his shin.

Luke grunted in pain, his eyes darkening with fury. "Still got fight in you?" He pressed down harder, using his weight and strength to pin me against the tree until I could barely breathe. His body was flush against mine, and I could feel his disgusting arousal through the fabric of his pants.

"Save your energy, Lena," he panted, his hot breath damp against my cheek and ear. "You’ll need it later."

Despair rose like a cold tide in my throat. The pain in my wrists, the helplessness of being trapped, the sickening sound of fabric tearing, and the nauseating mix of lust and violence radiating from him—it all churned in my stomach.

I wrenched my head to the side to avoid his lips, slamming the back of my skull against the unyielding bark. My vision swam with black spots. In that blurred moment, I saw the chilling triumph in his eyes.

Then—

A shadow streaked into the alley with impossible speed, carrying a killing intent so sharp it froze the air. Luke didn’t even have time to turn before an immense force hurled him backward. He crashed into a pile of stacked boxes with a sickening crunch of bone, howling in agony.

Standing between me and him was a massive black wolf. His fur was the color of the deepest night, his powerful frame coiled with lethal grace. His fangs glinted in the dim light, razor-sharp and deadly.

But the most terrifying thing was his eyes. They burned with uncontainable rage.

Dominic.

That unmistakable, overwhelming presence—I could never mistake it.

Dominic lowered his stance, a deep, guttural growl rumbling from his throat as he stalked toward Luke, who writhed on the ground. Every movement was pure predator, his intent to kill undeniable.

Luke’s face drained of color. Fear consumed him—he couldn’t even scramble away, only uselessly scooting backward, his pants darkening with the stain of his own terror.

"No!" I cried out, my wrists raw from the ropes, but I barely felt it. "Dominic! Don’t!"

Dominic paused. His head tilted slightly toward me, the fury in his gaze still blazing, as if questioning why I would stop him.

"Don’t kill him," I gasped, forcing my voice steady. "He’s not worth it. You don’t need his filth on your hands."

Dominic went still. His cold, unreadable eyes flicked between me and Luke, the skepticism in them fading.

Then, right before me, his massive form began to shift. His outline blurred, bones realigning with faint, unsettling cracks.

And standing there, once again, was Dominic Voss. His black suit was immaculate, only his hair slightly disheveled, his steel-gray eyes still sharp with lingering danger.

He didn’t speak, nor did he spare another glance at my disheveled state or the torn collar of my shirt. Instead, he took a step forward, his strong arms sliding effortlessly beneath my knees and back, lifting me with ease as I trembled, barely able to stand. Instinctively, my fingers clutched at the fabric of his shirt, icy cold against my skin.

Holding me securely, he strode steadily out of that filthy back alley. At the entrance, his familiar black car waited, Daniel already standing silently by the open rear door. I was settled onto the plush leather seat, its soft embrace enveloping me. The interior was hushed, save for the low hum of the air conditioning, sealing us away from the wretched world outside.

My body still trembled uncontrollably, the exhaustion of narrowly escaping danger and the throbbing pain in my wrists flooding over me. Hugging my arms to myself, I tried to steady my breathing before turning to the man beside me, his profile sharp and unyielding.

"Thank you," I said hoarsely, breaking the silence. "You helped me again. In fact, you’ve helped me too many times already."

Dominic slowly turned his head. The passing streetlights flickered across his chiseled features, his gaze lingering briefly on my battered appearance—utterly devoid of emotion.

"You are the Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack, at least in name. If a pack’s Luna is seen in such a disgraceful state in public, it becomes a laughingstock, inviting unnecessary scandal and trouble. I dealt with that problem—not yours."

His words were like a bucket of ice water, dousing the faint, misplaced warmth that had begun to rise in my chest. I paused, then nodded. "Understood. I’ll be more careful not to bring this kind of trouble to the pack."

Silence settled over the car again. Just as I thought the conversation was over, Dominic spoke once more, his tone as indifferent as before, yet delivering words I never expected to hear:

"I won’t bring up you leaving again."

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