Page 27 of Forbidden Mischief
ASHER
Throbbing in my head forces me awake. My eyes feel heavy, my body groggy. What the hell happened?
When I open my eyes, I’m met with black.
Going to the store. Getting food. Coming out to find my dad in the parking lot.
It all comes back.
“Fuck,” I groan as my head spins, my hands pressing against my eyes as I fall back to the ground.
It’s cold in here, wherever here is. And smells of dirt and mold, making my nose run.
I want to say I can’t believe my father would do something like this, but really, I can.
He didn’t have control over something he wanted to control, and found a way to get it.
What is he trying to accomplish? Does he think this is going to get me to come back to the pack?
Why would he even want me to? He clearly hates me and doesn’t accept who I am.
But, of course, he’s not just going to let me get away and go off to be happy somewhere else. Not when he can have me in his clutches to control me and make me miserable. It’s what he’s best at. Been doing it my whole damn life.
Trying again, but slower this time, I manage to get to my hands and knees.
For a moment, the pain is almost too much to handle. The only things I can hear are the sounds of my heavy breathing and the blood from my racing heart beating in my ears.
Opening my eyes, I try to get them to adjust to the dark, but it’s pitch back in here.
“Hello!” I call out, wincing as the sound of my loud voice makes my head pound.
I wait and listen. No one responds but I can hear sounds, like feet shuffling. And, is that someone breathing?
Is there someone with me? My head looks around at nothing.
“Is anyone there? Dad? Hello!”
For the first time in a long time, I feel fear running coldly through my veins.
It only amplifies when the light turns on, and everything around me comes into view.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand as every muscle in my body stiffens.
My eyes lock on my father’s from across what looks to be a dirt pit, not a dirt cell like I thought.
Not just any pit, but the pack fighting pit. The one that has seen blood spilled more times than I can count. The ground is more dried blood than anything else.
My breathing picks up as anger fills me. “What the hell is this?” I ask, raising my voice and ignoring the pain in my head.
He takes a step forward and glares down at me. “No son of mine will like dick,” he growls. “So if I have to beat the fucking straight back into you, I will.” His lips curve into a sinister grin. “Or, should I say, we will.”
Fingers curling into the loose dirt below me, I raise my lip in a growl. “You can’t be fucking serious? Do you really believe that's going to work? I can tell you now, no matter what you do to me, I’m still gonna like dick.” I smirk. “Preferably my mate’s dick.”
A growl rips from his chest as he takes another step forward and kicks me in the face.
I grunt, trying to breathe through the pain as blood fills my mouth.
He grabs the back of my head by the hair and yanks it backwards. He leans in close and my stomach rolls at the smell of his rancid breath from chewing tobacco and beer. What the fuck did my mother ever see in this monster? He’s nothing but a vile creature, inside and out.
“I’m very fucking serious. Sure as hell doesn’t hurt to try, now does it?
” he chuckles. “The other alphas are gonna be here any moment now, and I know they’re just as eager as I am to remind you where your place is.
Here. On the fucking ground at my feet like the dirt you are.
I hope you have the strength to fight them all off.
” He laughs again. “Even if you don’t, at least make sure you die trying.
Don’t wanna go out like a weak little bitch now, do you?
Either way, you won’t be leaving here ever wanting to look at another cock again. We’ll make sure of it.”
He lets go of my hair and takes a step back.
My heavy head moves to the side to see the door open.
One by one, men make their way into the room and surround me until I’m trapped.
There has to be a good fifteen to twenty men in here. Some of them I recognize, ranging from early twenties to mid forties.
I’m truly fucking screwed.
Whatever they gave me after I passed out is still in my body. My limbs feel weak, my thoughts are fuzzy.
I don’t have the strength to even stand, let alone fight these men.
“What’s wrong?” a guy taunts. “Too much of a little bitch to fight?” He kicks me hard in the stomach, and I grunt. They laugh as I curl in on myself, pain blooming through my ribs.
Gritting my teeth, I try to get back to my hands and knees, commanding my body to get the fuck up, to fight them. I don’t want to go down like this, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning this easily.
I swear they wait until I’m almost to my feet before someone kicks me again.
I drop hard and they all laugh.
The taunts start then, and the names.
They kick at me, spit on me, call me every derogatory name in the book.
I feel like a pathetic failure. I’m going to die here; I’m not stupid enough to think he’s going to let me live. Not after he thinks I’ve embarrassed him.
He wants me gone, and he wants it to be at his hands.
As I lay on the ground, curled into a ball, I think about Zayne.
My sweet, carefree mate.
And my heart breaks because I don’t want to leave him behind. I don’t want to cause him pain.
I just found him. We just started our lives together. I’m not ready for this to be over.
I’m not ready to say goodbye.
Tears fall from my tightly shut eyes, giving them another thing to laugh about. They call me a pussy, a stupid little bitch.
They’re all sad, pathetic little boys who hate their lives and get off on other people's pain.
They don’t know what it feels like to be loved, to be wanted. To be someone's whole world, or have someone be theirs.
But I do. And even if it was only for a short time, I wouldn’t change it for the world.
I hope he knows I didn’t want to leave him. I’d never choose to leave him.
Please, forgive me. I love you, Zayne.