Mark of Sin: Bound to the Cruel Alpha

I knew nothing good could come of this. My father never called just to check in. He never asked how I was doing. Every conversation with him was a demand, an accusation, or something far worse.

With trembling fingers, I finally slid the screen to answer the call.

"Hello?" My voice came out far weaker than I intended.

"Jane," his voice cut through the speaker, ice-cold, harsh, and utterly devoid of warmth. "We need to talk. Right now."

I swallowed with immense difficulty, the lump in my throat feeling like broken glass scraping against raw skin. Closing my eyes for a fleeting second, I forced a slow breath in and out before wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder. My trembling hands fumbled blindly through my backpack for my water bottle, my fingers catching on fabric, zippers, anything except what I was looking for.

"I’m really not in a position to talk right now, can I call you back lat—"

"Tell me, are you already living with the heir of the Blackthorne Pack?" my father’s voice cut in, cold and clipped. It held that familiar, unfeeling tone he always adopted whenever he demanded something or moved to extract a benefit—a tone that sent a wretched chill creeping down my spine.

He didn’t even bother listening to what I was trying to say. He simply cut me off mid-sentence, as if my words carried no weight whatsoever.

It wasn’t a surprise. He had never cared about what I had to say, whether I was available, or how I felt. It was a lesson I had learned by heart over a lifetime of dismissals.

"Yes, we live together right now," I breathed out, my fingers finally closing around the cold plastic of the water bottle at the bottom of my bag. "Why? Did something happen?"

I couldn’t fathom why he was asking, or why he suddenly cared where or with whom I lived. Had Julia complained to him about my refusal to give her money when she called? But if that were the case, he would have led with accusations and grievances, just as he always did.

"Now listen to me very carefully, shut your mouth, and do exactly what I tell you without asking questions or arguing. Do you understand me?" His tone turned even harsher, laced with overt menace. "I need the documents I signed over to them. I need them as soon as possible, do you hear me? Preferably within the week."

"Then ask him for them yourself directly. Why do you need me for this?" I was utterly bewildered. I had no idea what specific papers he was referring to or what role he expected me to play. The rapid barrage of unanswered questions sent a surge of anxiety through me.

"Are you completely brain-dead, or are you just playing dumb?" he snarled into the receiver, followed by the dull thud of his fist slamming onto a hard surface. "I need the transfer documents—the ones where I surrendered my guardianship over you! I need the original papers with all the seals and signatures! And he cannot find out they’re gone!"

A sickening wave of nausea hit me as the realization dawned. Magnus had mentioned those exact documents when we discussed my family—how they had officially signed away all legal guardianship and responsibility over me, transferring every right and obligation entirely into his hands. But why on earth did my father suddenly need those originals? What was he planning?

Ice-cold panic surged through my veins, freezing me where I stood. Whatever he was plotting, it boded nothing but disaster. He had just explicitly ordered me to steal the original deeds out from under Magnus’s nose. He was demanding I betray my mate who held complete power over my life.

"Why do you even need them?" I asked cautiously, my heart hammering furiously against my ribs. "What are you planning? Tell me."

"That is none of your damn business and has nothing to do with you," he cut in—cold, harsh, leaving no room for argument. "You are obligated to help your family in whatever we ask. We raised you, fed you, clothed you, put a roof over your head. Your mother carried you under her heart for nine long months, giving birth to you in agony. So you owe us. You owe us big time! It’s your duty to pay us back."

I grimaced, repulsed by his shameless, manipulative response and the ease with which he weaponized guilt to grind me down.

"Until you tell me honestly why you need those specific documents and what you’re planning—"

"Shut your filthy mouth right now, you stupid little whore!" he roared so loudly that I recoiled, yanking the phone from my ear as a shiver wracked my whole body. "I told you what you have to do, and you will do it without asking questions! By the end of this week—Sunday evening at the absolute latest—those papers better be in my hands, or I swear to God—"

I slammed the end-call button before he could finish the threat hanging in the air. My fingers trembled so violently the device nearly slipped from my palm. I was terrified down to the marrow of my bones—not because of what he might do to me physically...

He had taken a belt to me plenty of times as a child and teenager. He had beaten me, humiliated me, and I had learned to endure physical pain. What frightened me far more was whatever dark scheme he was hatching, and the fact that he was forcing me directly into its crosshairs.

It made me sick to my stomach. This wasn’t just a bitter family feud; he was deliberately coercing me into committing a crime against an alpha wolf.

To think he’s trying to force me to steal the very papers proving my legal guardianship was transferred to Magnus...

When I weighed the options, the truth was stark: in every conceivable way, I was safer belonging to Magnus than remaining under the thumb of parents who viewed me as nothing more than a dangerous bargaining chip.

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