Page 3 of Brutal Alpha’s Sold Mate (Starfire Hollow Alphas #4)

They sold me.

The words rattle around in my skull like loose marbles, each time making less sense than the last. Malcolm and Wiley, the smug bastards who couldn’t break me, decided I wasn’t worth the effort.

I should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve realized that when torture didn’t work, they’d take the easy way out.

But instead, I let my guard down, thinking I had time to figure out their plans and find a way to warn the alphas.

Now I’m stuck. Sold like livestock.

The man who bought me doesn’t say much, but he doesn’t have to.

Everything about him screams dominance, from the rigid way he holds himself to the way he looks at me, like I’m a problem he needs to solve.

Tall, broad, and built like he could tear a tree out of the ground with his bare hands, he radiates strength in a way that makes my wolf itch to fight before he’s even said a word.

Black hair, thick and unruly, falls across his forehead, and his eyes are darker than midnight.

There’s a scar on his cheek, cutting across tanned skin like a permanent reminder of a battle fought—and, I’m willing to bet, won.

He looks every inch the arrogant alpha he clearly thinks he is, but that’s not what throws me.

No, it’s the way my gaze lingers, catching on the angular line of his jaw or the way he moves like nothing in this world could touch him.

Strong. Confident. A complete asshole. My stomach twists, and it’s not just from the potion.

There’s something about him that’s impossible to ignore, no matter how much I want to.

Like a storm, dangerous and magnetic, pulling at me in ways I can’t explain.

It pisses me off. I’m furious with him, with this whole situation, with myself most of all.

But even anger isn’t enough to drown out the heat prickling under my skin.

The worst part? He’s not just strong—he’s calm. No nervous fidgeting, no anxious glances. He looks at me like he’s already won, and that pisses me off more than anything.

“I’m not going with you,” I snap when we step outside. I jerk my arm back, even though the motion feels like it might topple me over. Damn potion. “So you might as well turn around and ask for a refund.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not how this works.”

“It is if I say so.”

“Is that right?” His voice is deep, smooth, and infuriatingly steady. Like he’s humoring me. Like he thinks this is cute.

I lunge, or I try to. My body doesn’t cooperate. The potion saps what’s left of my strength, and he sidesteps easily, catching me by the arm like I’m nothing more than a wild pup.

“Let go,” I growl, twisting against his grip.

“You’re in no position to give orders,” he replies, his grip tightening just enough to keep me from slipping free. “In fact, I was assured it was you who would obey my every command. But go ahead. Struggle. Get it out of your system.”

I see red. My wolf, sluggish and muted thanks to whatever concoction Malcolm and Wiley used on me, snarls weakly in the back of my mind.

If I were at full strength, this man wouldn’t stand a chance.

But right now, I can’t even shift without his permission, let alone fight back properly. The thought makes my stomach turn.

“Asshole,” I spit, wrenching at his hold again. “What’s your plan, huh? Drag me back to your pack and parade me around like some prize you won?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Then, to my utter disbelief, he smirks. “I wouldn’t put it past you to make an escape attempt the moment I let go, so yeah. Dragging it is.”

Before I can react, he sweeps me off my feet like I weigh nothing. The world tilts, and I find myself slung over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

“Put me down!” I snarl, pounding my fists against his back. It’s like hitting a stone, solid and inflexible. “You bastard! You can’t just—”

“I can,” he interrupts. “And I will. Keep yelling, though. You’re really making me rethink my decision.”

“Oh, I’ll make you regret it,” I snap. “I’ll rip your throat out the second I get the chance.”

“You’re welcome to try.”

The confidence in his tone makes my blood boil. He’s not taking me seriously, not treating me like the threat I am. That’s his first mistake. The second will be underestimating me.

I stop fighting for a moment, letting my body go limp. His pace doesn’t falter, but I can feel him glance at me like he’s trying to figure out what I’m up to. Good. Let him wonder. Let him think I’ve given up.

Then I strike, twisting sharply and throwing all my weight into it. My knee connects with his ribs, and for a split second, I think I’ve got him. He stumbles, his grip loosening, and I scramble free, landing awkwardly on my feet.

But before I can take a step, he’s on me.

The force of his tackle knocks the wind out of me, and we hit the ground hard.

His weight pins me down, one hand gripping my wrist and the other pressing against my shoulder to keep me still.

I thrash beneath him, snarling and cursing, but it’s no use.

He’s stronger, heavier, and completely in control.

“Enough,” he declares. “You’re only making this harder on yourself.”

“Get off me,” I growl, baring my teeth.

“Not until you stop acting like a feral pup.”

I buck against him, ignoring the ache in my muscles and the burning frustration building in my chest. “You don’t own me.”

His grip tightens, and his face lowers until we’re almost nose-to-nose.

“I don’t want to own you. But right now, you’re my responsibility, whether either of us likes it or not.

So you can keep fighting me, or you can save your strength and let me help you.

Or, if you’d rather, I can order you to comply. Your choice.”

The words catch me off guard. Help me? That’s rich, coming from the man who bought me like I was a piece of meat. I narrow my eyes, glaring up at him with every ounce of defiance I have left.

“I don’t need your help,” I state.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He doesn’t move off me right away. Instead, he stays there, holding me down, his weight a constant reminder of how powerless I am right now.

My wolf whimpers in the back of my mind, but even she feels distant, muted.

It’s the potion. It has to be. Malcolm and Wiley didn’t just weaken me; they stole part of me.

My wolf, my strength, my fire. And now, I’m stuck here with this…

this arrogant brute who thinks he can drag me wherever he pleases.

I wrench at my arm again, but his grip doesn’t budge.

His hand is rough, calloused from years of combat, and his expression is all business.

For a moment, his dark eyes meet mine, and I swear there’s something there, something flickering just beneath the surface.

Pity? No, not quite. It’s closer to… frustration.

Like he’s not just irritated with me but with himself, too.

“Get off me,” I demand again, my voice breaking. The frustration is mounting, boiling over, and I hate how close I am to breaking down entirely. “You think you’re any better than Malcolm and Wiley? You’re just another asshole who thinks he can own someone.”

His expression hardens instantly, and his jaw ticks as he leans closer. “You don’t know me.”

“And I don’t want to.”

“Good,” he bites back. “Because we’re not here to make friends.”

For a moment, neither of us moves. The tension between us is palpable as I glare up at him, my breathing shallow. He stares right back, unmoving, unflinching. The bastard doesn’t even blink.

Eventually, though, he moves, releasing my wrist and pulling back just enough to let me breathe. I roll onto my side, clutching my arm where his grip left faint red marks. My pride is bruised more than anything else, but that doesn’t stop the wave of anger washing over me.

“You’re lucky I’m not at full strength,” I hiss, glaring at him as I push myself into a sitting position. “If I were, you’d be bleeding by now.”

His lips twitch, almost like he’s fighting back a smirk. “I’d like to see that.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

He straightens up, towering over me like some immovable mountain. For a second, I consider rushing at him again, just to see if I can land a solid hit this time. But the logical part of me—the part that’s not completely consumed by anger—knows better. I won’t win this fight. Not now. Not like this.

“Are you done?” he asks. His tone is calm, infuriatingly so, and it only stokes the fire inside me.

“For now,” I reply through gritted teeth. “But don’t get comfortable.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The silence between us is suffocating as he gestures toward the black SUV parked at the edge of the property. It’s sleek with tinted windows, looking more suited for a high-stakes heist than ferrying a reluctant captive.

“This is your ride?”

“You were expecting a carriage?”

I roll my eyes but don’t move. My legs are still shaky from the lingering effects of Malcolm and Wiley’s potion, and the last thing I want is to face-plant in front of him. Not that he’d let me forget it.

“I’m not getting in that thing with you,” I say.

“Suit yourself,” he says, shrugging as he pops the driver’s side door open. “Stay here. Maybe Malcolm and Wiley will come back for you. Maybe they can find you a buyer who has more… reliable methods to maintain control of you.”

The mention of those bastards makes my stomach churn, and my wolf growls in the back of my mind. I hate that he’s right, hate that he knows I don’t have a better option. “You’re such an asshole,” I mutter, forcing my legs to move.

“Noted,” he replies, climbing into the driver’s seat without so much as a glance in my direction.

I approach the passenger side slowly, and every step is a reminder of how weak I feel.

The potion has dulled everything—my strength, my reflexes, even my wolf’s presence.

It’s like I’m moving through a fog. When I finally reach the SUV, I wrench the door open and climb in, slamming it shut behind me.