Three years ago, on a blistering afternoon, I sat at a street-side café, sipping my iced latte. Lost in the quiet of the moment, I didn't notice him.
Alpha Gorge was parked across the street, his eyes fixed on me like a wolf tracking its prey.
I had no idea, but the moment my lips brushed the straw, he was already enchanted.
" I saw an angel, glowing under the sun, pure and untouched."
I teased, "Is this how you charm all the women, Gorge?"
He just smirked, and from that moment, I became his target.
He sent flowers-mountains of them. Cars. A villa. Not a love letter, but a full-on show of force. The Pack watched as I became the envy of every woman around.
But behind that glittering world, there was a dark truth.
I was the one hundredth. The one hundredth, they whispered.
Three months. That was his average. Then the next one. Gone.
I was completely captivated by him. Back then, he doted on me like I was the center of his world.
If I was the slightest bit upset, he'd be broken-hearted, ready to spend a fortune just to see me smile again. A hundred million, just for me to buy something to cheer up.
I fell for him, deeper than I ever thought possible. And with each passing day, a new fear gripped my heart: Would I end up just like his exes, tossed aside after three months?
The thought terrified me. It was like clockwork. I couldn't bear to be just another one.
So, I changed. I let go of everything that once made me who I was.
All that mattered was keeping his attention.
"Do you like this?" I asked, spinning in front of him, wearing something bold, daring-desperate for that flicker in his eyes.
He didn't even look up at first. That flicker. That was all I needed.
In the bedroom, I morphed into whatever he wanted.
Roleplay? Anything. Limits? Nonexistent. "I need you like this," he'd demand, and I'd bend until I was unrecognizable, just to see him smile.
And when Alpha Gorge hung out with his pack, I became them,making porn jokes.
"Bet you can't handle this," I'd joke, crude and low, pushing out words that once would've made me sick. They laughed, and I basked in it.
Soon, the Pack had heard it all. I wasn't his lover anymore.
I was his slave.
"Call me. I'll be there . " I said to him one night, my voice hollow. "I was just... your personal slave."
No matter where I was, no matter what I was doing-Alpha Gorge's voice echoed in my mind.
"Come here."
It didn't matter if I was with friends, in a meeting, or in the middle of something important. I dropped everything. Within half an hour, I was his.
One day, he stood before me, eyes dark, commanding. "I want to see you act like a horse."
A horse.
I barely blinked before I was on all fours, the collar cold against my skin. "Now," he demanded. "Crawl."
I didn't hesitate. Hands and knees hit the concrete, scraping against the rough pavement, my body sinking into the cold ground. The collar tugged on my neck as if it owned me.
The world around us kept moving, oblivious to the humiliating scene I was playing out, but I didn't care. The only thing that mattered was his approval.
"Crawl." His voice was sharper now.
I obeyed, head bowed low. My hands and knees burned with the friction, but I kept crawling.
I felt eyes on me. Whispered. Judged. But I didn't hear them.
"Faster." His voice was cold and commanding, and I moved quicker, each scrape of my skin on the concrete a reminder of my place.
I was nothing. No one.
His.
And that was all that mattered.
The moment the footage hit the internet, it exploded.
Images of me-humiliated, broken, crawling through the streets like a creature-spread across every screen.
"Look at her. Pathetic. A toy for the Alpha."
"She's nothing but an animal now."
But then, I heard it.
The ring of a phone. Alpha Gorge's voice on the other end, cold and commanding. "I see they're talking about you."
I swallowed hard, but I didn't speak. I knew what he meant.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
And just like that, the chaos started to fade.
But in others' heart, I became nothing more than a whisper-a fleeting shame in the background of his world.
I was Alpha Gorge's slave.
Three years.
And I thought I'd finally broken the curse of the three-month rule-I thought I had his heart.
But this morning-he announced he was claiming a new Luna.
And I? The last to know. The bride wasn't me.
He brought her back to our home, kissed her in front of me, just to see me break.
And then, with that cold smile, he said, "You're nothing. Low, vulgar. You could never be worthy of me."
Wasn't I molded by his own hands?
