Claimed By The King(s) Of Kings

Aina

Aina sprinted into the alleyway filled with large green dumpsters that reeked of literal filth, her lungs burning, her heart hammering as the laughter of Clara and her friends echoed faintly behind her. She pressed herself against the wall, clutching the letter tight against her chest.

I should really start traveling with my inhaler, that was a close call. I almost got exposed. What was I thinking, sending this letter myself? I’m the most hated person in this pack, of course someone would try to make things difficult for me, she thought to herself, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat. I can’t give up. I need to deliver this letter. If I don’t RSVP, they’ll be suspicious when I show up without an ID.

Just as Aina was losing hope of her bogus plan ever coming true, she caught sight out of the corner of her eye of a little boy, no older than eight, staring longingly at the ice cream stall across the street, his small hands pressed against the counter as if wishing he could taste what he couldn’t afford.

Aina’s mind sparked. She crouched low, crawling closer to the boy like a desperate, half-crazed figure before whispering urgently, "Hey, kid. Come here. I need your help."

The boy turned, his eyes wide at the sight of Aina, though he seemed not to know her reputation. "My mom said I mustn’t talk to strangers."

"I’m not a stranger," Aina insisted, her voice trembling but firm. "I’m... I’m someone who needs a favor. Please. It’s important."

The boy frowned, shifting his fingers nervously. "Mom said strangers are dangerous."

Aina bit her lip, desperation clawing at her chest. "I’m not dangerous. Look, I just need you to mail this letter for me. That’s all. You’ll be helping someone who really needs it." She held out the folded letter, her hand shaking.

The boy hesitated, then stepped closer, curiosity flickering in his eyes. "Why can’t you mail it yourself?"

"Because..." Aina swallowed hard, her throat tight. Everyone hates me, she thought bitterly before continuing aloud. "Because I have asthma, and I can’t walk any further. So please. Just take it. I’ll pay you."

Not a single lie told. I do have asthma, one of the perks of being a weak shifter.

She dug into her pocket and pulled out three bronze coins, her entire savings, stolen from her mother’s purse. She pressed them into his palm. "It’s all I have. Please."

The boy’s eyes lit up at the sight of the coins. He snatched the letter, nodded quickly, and skipped away toward the mail station, clutching both the money and the parchment.

Aina sagged back against the trash bins, her body trembling. Moon goddess, let this be the right choice. Let him send it. Please, she prayed silently before crawling further into the alley, closer to the dumpsters.

"I’ll wait till the sun goes down before I return home. I’m not going to rush back just to get shouted at," she mumbled to herself. Pulling out her cracked phone, she scrolled through funny videos to distract herself, forcing laughter at jokes that barely registered.

Hours passed, the sky darkened, and when the moon finally rose high above the rooftops, she exhaled. Alpha Silverwing should be gone by now.

Sure that Alpha Silverwing was gone, Aina returned home. This time the walk was more pleasant, less suffocating, because the market had quieted, fewer people lingering to hate the fact that she breathed. She pushed open the front door instead of the back, hoping to slip inside unnoticed, praying everyone was asleep. But it was one of the many bad decisions she had made that day.

The entire family was waiting.

The moment she stepped inside, her father, Steyn, stood at the center, his eyes blazing with fury the instant they landed on her. Bridget sat stiffly on the couch, her fingers tapping endlessly on her phone. Teressa leaned against the wall, her lips curled into a smug smile. Travis, Stefon, Ryn, and Amilia were all there, their faces twisted with cruel delight, eager for the spectacle.

"Hi," Aina said awkwardly, her voice small and fragile against the silence. Steyn’s hand cracked across her face, the sting immediate, the sound echoing through the room. "Vile thing! How dare you run away during breakfast? You should be grateful Alpha Silverwing wants you!"

For the first time, Aina’s rage boiled over. She straightened, her eyes flashing with defiance. "Grateful? For being sold like cattle? You’re nothing but a coward, Father! Who can’t accept that it was his fault I was born, I didn’t drink that alcohol for you that day."

The room fell silent. Steyn’s face twisted with fury, his aura flaring, alpha scent filling the air like a storm. He ripped off his belt, the leather snapping as he swung it. The strike landed across her back, pain exploding through her body.

Aina howled, collapsing to her knees. Her siblings laughed. Travis sneered, "Finally, she’s getting what she deserves." Amilia clapped her hands, giggling with delight. Ryn chanted, "Breeder! Breeder!" Stefon smirked, his arms crossed, enjoying the show.

Bridget didn’t even look up, her fingers still tapping on her phone as though nothing was happening. Teressa chuckled softly, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. For her, this was enjoyment, the closest she would ever come to hurting Bridget herself.

Blood filled Aina’s mouth, her body trembling, but her spirit refused to break. She clenched her fists, holding back her tears. This was it, the final nail in her coffin. She had yearned to be loved since the moment she was born, but not anymore. Never again would she yearn for love from her family, or from anyone else.

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Days bled together until the dreaded morning arrived, the day Aina was to be paraded as a breeder. Yet when she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn’t see a breeder. She saw a bride, dressed in finery that wasn’t hers, wrapped in a gown chosen by Alpha Silverwing himself.

She stood in her mother’s room, which was a palace compared to her cramped cell. The walls were painted ivory, hung with gold-framed portraits and silk drapes that shimmered when the light touched them. A chandelier glittered above, casting warm light across plush carpets and a bed so large it could swallow Aina’s entire room. Perfume lingered in the air, sweet with the scent of luxury.

Aina gripped the fabric of her dress, her fingers digging into the shimmering material that barely hid anything. In the center of her mother’s lavish chamber, she stood in a burnished gown the color of deep violet, the fabric gleaming like liquid flame.

It hugged her curves tightly, cinching her waist, lifting her breasts until they pressed against the bodice, her cleavage framed like a jewel on display.

The skirt flowed down her legs, heavy and expensive, brushing the floor with every movement. Jewelry glittered at her throat and wrists, each piece cold against her skin. For once, she looked beautiful, clean, polished, and expensive.

Which only enraged Bridget.

The woman hated being upstaged by anyone, even her own daughter. She always had to be the prettiest in the room, and whenever she felt insecure about her own looks, she made sure to drag Aina down.

"You look hideous," Bridget said, circling her daughter like a predator. Her face twisted with disgust, as if Aina were nothing more than a smelly dumpster.

"That dress is so pretty, but it’s wasted on your ugly little self. Your chest is too large, your waist too narrow, your hips too wide. You look like a cheap whore, which you are."

Aina kept her eyes on the floor, silent. Snapping back at her mother would only earn her a slap.

"You should be grateful an Alpha even wants you," Bridget continued, her voice dripping with contempt. "Do you think anyone else would? With that weak wolf of yours and this pathetic body? You’re lucky Silverwing is desperate. Otherwise, you’d rot in the kitchen forever."

Aina’s mind screamed. When will she shut up already? She mocked every word in her head, twisting them into venom. I get it, Mother. I’m the ugliest girl in the universe. You’re definitely not jealous right now.

Her thoughts ended when Bridget’s phone rang. Bridget flicked her eyes to the device on the table and rushed to answer it. "Hey, baby, what’s up?" she said sweetly.

Oh, so she is capable of being nice, Aina thought bitterly.

Bridget left the room for approximately three seconds before rushing back in, sneering as she realized it was her room. "Get out," she snapped. "This is my room. You don’t belong here."

You don’t need to ask me twice. Aina nodded quickly, her jewelry jingling as she moved. She slipped out, her heart pounding.

For the first time since the night her father had struck her, she was alone. Her father had always kept someone near her, afraid she would run away, but thanks to her mother’s negligence she was finally free, an hour before her send-off.

This was her chance to run.

She rushed back to her room, slamming the door behind her before turning to the cracked mirror, she stared at herself.

For a fleeting moment, she admired the reflection. She had never worn anything so beautiful. The way the fabric shimmered, the way it framed her curves, the way the jewels sparkled against her skin, it was intoxicating.

But then she remembered who had bought it. Alpha Silverwing. The admiration curdled into disgust.

She tore the gown off, ripping it from her body, the jewelry clattering to the floor. She wanted to throw it all away, to burn it, to rid herself of the stench of ownership. But she stopped. She needed money. She would pawn it, sell it, use it to buy a ticket to the capital.

She grabbed her worn-out bag, stuffed with clothes stolen from her brothers, and shoved the gown and jewelry inside along with Travis’s acceptance letter. She tied her hair up, pulled on jeans and a tight shirt that hugged her chest, her breasts pressing against the fabric, standing out more than she wanted. She would have worn something else if she hadn’t already packed most of her clothes into the bag and she didn’t have time to dig.

She pulled a cap low over her head, slung the bag across her shoulders, and moved to the small window in her room. She pushed it open, the hinges creaking, and tossed the bag out first. It landed with a dull thud on the trash heap below.

She climbed onto the sill, her heart racing, and jumped. She landed hard on the pile of garbage, the stench rising around her.

For once, she was grateful her room was on the first floor, near the trash. She flicked a banana peel off her shoulder, wiped grime from her jeans, and pulled the backpack onto her back.

Her chest rose and fell. She was dressed, packed and ready. For the first time, she wasn’t a servant. She wasn’t a daughter. She was Aina, well, Travis too. And she was leaving.

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