Chapter 5

Isla’s POV~

I felt heat before I felt the pain. It started in the pit of my stomach, like I’d swallowed a live coal, and then it shot out to my fingers and toes.

My wolf wasn't just waking up; she was screaming. She clawed at the inside of my skin, desperate to get out.

I dropped to my hands and knees, the cold tile biting into my palms.

A whimper ripped out of my throat, but it didn't sound human. It sounded like a wounded animal.

My back arched, and I felt the vertebrae pop and grind, stretching, lengthening.

It was sharp and blinding, but under the pain, there was power. So much power. My senses exploded.

I could smell the bleach on the floor, the mint on Slade’s breath, and the expensive, musky cologne that Brock wore. It was overwhelming.

I could hear their heartbeats as loud as drums in the small room.

I wasn't shifting fully, not yet, but the change was wrecking me. My gums burned where my teeth were trying to sharpen.

I heaved, sweat pouring down my face, soaking my hair.

Then, the pain stopped. Just like that.

I gasped, sucking in air. I looked at my hands. They were shaking. I could feel her inside, pacing, purring and whispering in my mind.

A bubble of laughter rose in my chest. It was hysterical. I wanted to jump up.

I wanted to dance. I wanted to scream at the ceiling because I had prayed for this.

I had begged the Moon Goddess for strength to kill my father, and she gave it to me.

I felt invincible. I almost cried happy tears. I could kill him. I could kill them all.

‘Mate.’

The word echoed in my skull, a whine from my wolf.

I froze. My happiness shattered.

I felt a pull. A magnetic tug in my chest, right behind my ribs. It was pulling me toward the door. Toward them.

I lifted my head.

Slade and Brock were staring at me. They weren't looking at me with hate. The disgust was gone.

Slade’s mouth was slightly open, his chest heaving. His eyes, usually so cold and cruel, were wide, blown out black. He looked... hungry. Not for food.

For me.

Brock was worse. He looked terrified and awestruck at the same time. A flush was creeping up his neck.

"No," I whispered. I almost puked.

I shook my head, scrambling backward on my hands and feet until my back hit the wall. "No, no, no!"

My eyes burned. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be.

"Isla?" Slade’s voice was rough, like he hadn't used it in days. He took a half-step forward.

"Don't!" I shrieked. "Don't you dare come closer!"

I scrambled to stand up, to run, to do anything, but my legs were jelly. The moment I put weight on them, they gave out. I slumped against the , sliding down until I was sitting in a heap on the filthy floor.

It was a joke. It had to be a joke.

Why?

I looked at Slade, the boy who was always fond of tripping me in the hallway. I looked at Brock, the one who filmed me once crying in the locker room.

Why them? I screamed inside my head.

I had suffered for eighteen years. I had starved. I had been beaten. I had planned a murder.

I didn't ask for a fairy tale. I didn't ask for a prince. I just asked to be strong enough to survive. A good mate.

And the Goddess gave me the one thing that would destroy me. She tied me to the men who made my life hell.

My wolf whined again, and made a soft, pleading sound. Mine, she said. ‘Them. Ours.’

"You have to be kidding me," I muttered, my tears finally spilling over. "You have got to be kidding me."

Brock raised his hand, his palm open, moving slowly like he was approaching a frightened dog. "Isla, calm down. We can talk about this."

"Talk about what?" I sobbed, my anger mixing with the heartbreak. "That I'm mated to my abusers? That my wolf wants the men who torture me?"

Slade looked pale, his hands trembling at his sides. He looked at me like I was the only thing in the world that mattered, and it made me sick. It made my stomach turn.

"It’s not a curse," Slade said, his voice low, intense. "It’s a gift, Isla. You’re ours now."

"I am not yours!" I yelled, the sound tearing my throat. "I am nobody's! I am going to kill you! I am going to kill all of you!"

But even as I said it, the pull in my chest tightened. It felt good. That was the worst part. The wolf inside me loved it. She wanted to roll over and show her belly to them. She wanted them to touch us.

I hated her. I hated them. I hated the Moon Goddess.

I slumped forward, resting my forehead on my knees, sobbing into my dirty jeans. How could hope be this cruel? I finally had the power to fight back, and my own body betrayed me. I was trapped. I was mated to the monsters.

"Get out," I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. "Just get out. I reject YOU!!”

I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could just disappear.

A sharp, twisting cramp in my own chest, but I knew it wasn't mine. It was coming from them immediately.

Brock and Slade both gasped at the exact same time. It was a synchronized sound of pain that made the hair on my arms stand up. Brock’s hand flew to his chest, his fingers clawing at his shirt like he was trying to rip his own heart out.

I saw the tendons in his neck strain against his skin. His jaw locked so hard I heard his molars grinding together. His eyes didn't just change color; they looked like they were on fire. That amber glow was bright, violent, and desperate.

Slade hit the doorframe with a thud, his body folding inward. He looked like I’d just plunged a knife into his gut. His face went gray, then flushed red, and his eyes were wide, staring at me with a mixture of shock and absolute devastation.

For Alpha males, rejection isn't just an insult. It’s torture. It’s their biology screaming that they are broken.

They both took a step toward me. It was jerky, uncoordinated, like they were marionettes and someone had yanked the string. The magnetic pull of the mate bond was overriding their brains. They couldn't stop themselves.

I scrambled back, my socks slipping on the linoleum. I hit the wall and realized I was cornered, but I wasn't going to act like prey. I curled my lip up, feeling my gums ache as the fangs extended fully. A low, vibrating growl started in my diaphragm and rolled up my throat.

"DON’T," I screamed. "Don't you dare come closer! I swear to goddess, I will tear your throats out!"

Brock blinked, fighting through the pain. He took another breath, his chest heaving.

"What did you just say?" he asked. His voice was wrecked.

I stared him down. I refused to let my chin tremble. I channeled every ounce of hate I had for them, every memory of the mop water, the tripping, the laughter. I let it harden in my stomach.

"I said no!" I yelled it louder this time, spitting the words out. "I reject you! I don't want you. I reject both of you!"

Slade let out a wet, choked laugh. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead with a shaking hand. "You can't reject us, baby," he said, his voice thick with that dark, twisted affection he always used to torture me. "The bond doesn't work like that. You felt it. You know what we are to you. Your body knows."

He was right. My skin was buzzing. My wolf was pacing inside my mind, whining, wanting to go to them. It made me want to vomit.

I nodded slowly. I didn't fight him on that. Lying wouldn't help. "Yes," My voice dropped to a whisper. "I felt it."

Slade’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. He thought he had me. He thought I was submitting.

I used that second. I used their arrogance.

I moved backward, sliding my feet along the floor until I felt the mattress hit the back of my legs. I didn't take my eyes off them. I watched Slade’s pupils dilate. I watched Brock’s hands unclench slightly.

My hand slid under the pillow. I felt the cold, hard steel of the gun I’d stolen from my father. I wrapped my fingers around the grip. It was heavy.

"I'm rejecting it anyway," I said.

Brock’s head snapped up. "Isla!"

His voice changed. It dropped an octave. It wasn't just a shout anymore; it was a command. It was the Alpha tone. It hit me in the chest trying to force my knees to buckle, trying to make my wolf roll over and show her belly.

"You don't know what you're doing," Brock said, stepping forward, ignoring my growl. "The rejection... It will hurt you more than it hurts us. It will break you."

I felt the command trying to take hold. My legs shook. I wanted to obey. It was instinct.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Hard. I tasted blood. The sharp pain cleared my head.

"Good," I said.

I kept my hand buried under the pillow, my finger finding the trigger guard.

"I want it to hurt," I told them, my voice flat and dead serious. "I want to feel something other than pain for once in my damn life. If this breaks me, at least I’ll feel it."

Slade moved then. He didn't care about the command anymore. He looked furious. He stalked toward the bed, his eyes glowing that angry amber.

"We're not accepting it," he snarled, baring his own teeth. "You are ours. You have always been ours."

I looked at him with cold, dead eyes. "I have never," I said, enunciating every syllable, "been anyone's."

I pulled my hand out from under the pillow.

The gun was small. A .22 caliber. It looked like a toy in my hand compared to their massive shoulders and thick necks. I knew a gun this size wouldn't kill an Alpha. Not permanently. Their healing factor was too fast.

But the bullet wasn't lead.

I had spent three hours filing the tip of every bullet in the magazine against a piece of rough concrete. I had dipped them in the concentrated wolfsbane extract I stole from the garden shed.

It wouldn't kill them. But it would feel like being dipped in acid. It would paralyze a wolf for long enough to run. Or to finish the job.

They both froze mid-step.

Slade’s face went from angry to dangerous in a heartbeat. He snarled.

"Where the fuck did you get that?"

My eyes twitched. “I got it from my father’s study.”

Brock’s voice turned extremely careful now. “Put the gun down, Isla.”

“No!”

“You’re not going to shoot us!” Slade said but he’s stopped moving forward.

“Try me!” I snarled at him and Brock’s eyes darkened.

“You pull that trigger and the entire pack would hunt you down!” Brock warned.

My lips curled a little. “I’m already planning to run. What’s one more crime?”

Just let us explain—" Slade moved forward.

"STOP!"

But he doesn't stop.

He's an Alpha. He's used to people obeying. Used to getting his way.

He reached for the gun but it went off.

The sound is catastrophic.

Slade stumbles back, clutching his arm. Blood seeps through his fingers.

Brock roars and lunges at me, trying to snatch the gun but I fire again.

This time I aimed.

The bullet caught him in the shoulder, spinning him around.

Both of them were on the ground now, bleeding and shocked.

I started to shake so hard the gun nearly fell from my hand.

"I told you to stop," I whispered. "I TOLD you."

And then my consciousness began to fade. Everything began to spin and my legs immediately gave way and every single thing went dark.