Page 45 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

The docks stretch out ahead of me in the dark. Rope and shadow, mostly. Lanterns hang along the wooden posts, their light thin and swaying, barely enough to cut through the fog rolling off the water.

Ships creak against their moorings. Hulls knock softly. Sails sit furled tight for the night.

The air smells like salt and tar, something colder underneath. The promise of a crossing I haven’t managed to buy yet.

Voices carry from further down the docks, low and indistinct. I pull my cloak tighter and wish the dark hid me as well as it hides everything else down here.

I head toward the docks, my heart racing in my chest.

“This is it,” I tell myself. “You’re finally leaving this cursed place.”

I spot movement in the trees, and I stop in my tracks, breath hitched in my throat. “Who’s there?” I ask, scanning the rustling bushes.

Maybe I should just make a run for it instead of waiting to see whatever had moved in those trees.

Good idea.

I hear a wolf-whistle as I turn around, and my heart stops when I see three buff men standing in front of me.

Where’d they come from?

“What’s a pretty damsel doing out here all by herself?” one asks me, his voice deep and menacing, eyes filled with something that resembles evil intent.

“I don’t want any trouble,” I manage to say. “I’m just heading to the docks.”

“At this time of night?” the second man asks.

“Maybe she’s running away from home,” says the third man.

“Or maybe… she’s running to meet her lover who’s on the other side of the island.” The first man has his eyes fixed on me.

The others laugh.

“Delinquent. I like it.” The second man’s gaze sweeps over my body.

I’m not comfortable with this setting—a defenseless non-shifter cornered by three men twice bigger than her at night, in the woods. Everything about this situation screams danger.

“Please, let me through.” My voice is steady, masking the fear underneath. “I really need to board a ship across.”

“Why the hurry?” The first man reaches out to hold my hand. “We can take you there.”

I squirm out of his hold, irritated by his touch. “I think I can manage.”

“I insist.” His eyes move over me, slow, assessing.

My heart is hammering in my chest as I watch his expression turn colder than before.

“You know, girls like you who attempt to run away in the cover of night are always worth a lot more coin than whatever’s in that little pouch of yours.” His eyes drop to my swollen pocket.

I understand what he means half a second too late. These people are traffickers.

I try to run. A hand closes around my arm before I make it two steps, wrenching me back hard enough that I cry out.

The world narrows into panic as I struggle with three men, none of whom are willing to let me walk away. I kick one in the balls, and while he groans and stumbles back, I jam the back of my head in the face of the man holding me from behind.

“Fuckin’ bitch!” He lets go of me. “She broke my fuckin’ nose!”

Before I can bolt, though, the other man grabs me by the hair, pulling wickedly against my scalp. I scream in pain.