Chapter 4

Beth’s POV.

I finish the four batches of lasagna and dozens of hamburgers just in time, as I can hear the pack filing into the large dining room. It’s always used as the meeting room, because it’s the only room in the entire pack house that can fit everyone in it.

Four tables are set up along the far wall, meant for the food, and the rest of the large room is filled with chairs. Alpha Joe is wandering through the crowd, and I slip two larges trays piled with food onto my arms, clutching them tightly to my body. I slide through the crowd, trying to get to the tables while remaining invisible, my eyes on the ground. It’s been a whole day since I’ve been abused by the pack – nearly a record, for me – and I want to keep it that way.

A family slides in front of me, politely waiting for a break in the crowd so that they can continue to wherever their seats may be.

I feel a slight smile, along with a tug of longing, rock through my body. The family is composed of a young girl, about fourteen years old, with long brown curls and brown doe-eyes. She’s on her dad’s right side, his arm around her shoulders as she whispers up to him, looking entranced in their conversation. Her mom is standing almost impossibly close, shaking her head in amusement at the pair, noting how their off in their own little world with each other.

They manage to find an opening in the throng of werewolves, and shimmy themselves through, whisking away from my line of sight.

I sigh, wandering forward again. That tiny family reminds me of how mine should have been. But it wasn’t, and now, it never will be. I’ve lost my chance at ever having a normal family; first, with my mother’s death, and then my father… Well, let’s just say that I am most likely an orphan by now.

My dad… Even if Dylan Ewing is still alive, somewhere, he is NOT my father. He lost that title the day he decided to –

"You skank!" A sudden voice booms as I crash into something hard. Tom.

The trays are tipped from my arms from our impact, smearing lasagna all over Tom’s face and embedding it in his shirt. His auburn hair is a mess of food, and his green eyes are cold and hard.

I jump back immediately, automatically wishing I could do what just happened. Why hadn’t I been paying attention? How had I let myself become so distracted?

Once again, my thoughts are shaken from me, but not from running into someone. Rather, it’s from a sudden fist slamming into my stomach. I double over instantly, pain blossoming among the other fading bruises on my torso. I gasp for breath, tears filling my eyes, though I try as hard as I can to will them away.

"Can’t even watch where you’re walking, you stupid whore!" Tom yells, drawing a lot of attention from the people around us. I whimper, staying bent over to try and protect my body, not daring to respond as I know it will only piss him off more.

"What is going on?" Joe’s voice calls through the pack, and I cringe automatically. Oh, God, no. Joe can’t get involved in this.

He storms through, bursting from between the people and stopping as he takes in Tom’s appearance.

"This little whore did it," Tom grits out between his teeth, and I wince, straightening out a bit and blinking away tears, not daring to meet Joe’s eyes.

"What the fuck, Beth?" Joe growls, clearly ticked off to see his Beta and best friend covered in cheese and sauce. I cringe again, squeezing my eyes shut in anticipation of the pain that will come next.

A hard hit is thrown at the base of my neck, on my back, making me collapse to the ground as my breath is knocked out of me.

"How many times have I told you: answer me!"

I shudder, coughing hard before shyly whispering, "I’m sorry, Alpha."

"I’ll give you something to be sorry about!" He yells, and I wince. I know that Grace’s in the room, and normally, he’d refrain from abusing me while she was around. He’s really angry.

"Pin her, Tom." He demands, and within seconds, I’m shoved harshly over and onto my back, screaming as my bruised shoulder blades come smashing into the ground. I try to shift away, to dodge him, but my body is too weak and slow, and Tom scoops both of my hands into one of his and presses them on the floor over my head.

He uses his free hand to twist me up, so I’m laying on my side, curled into a ball, and he pins my legs down with his other arm, my back to the crowd. I hear the hurried steps of a few people leaving, and try to turn my head over my shoulder so I can see the look on Joe’s face.

The second I do, I wish I hadn’t. His eyes, peeking out from his long blonde hair, have gone black, showing that his wolf is now in control. He slowly takes out a pocket knife from his pocket, eyes trained on me in a mocking manner, as he flicks the knife open with an eerie ‘click’ that seems to echo through the room.

"Now, Tom, I’m thinking that we wreck her side tonight. Some scars on her ribcage, huh? To always keep her pack members close to her heart," he spits, his tone in a strange, twisted kind of excitement at the thought of torturing me.

"I think that would be absolutely lovely, Joe," Tom drawls over top of me, and I start wriggling under his grasp as Joe advances towards me, stalking me like a hunter with it’s prey.

I gasp, squeezing my eyes shut as Joe’s cold hands yank up my shirt, shivering out of fear. Only my mate should have touched so high on my torso – but, now, with all of the things my pack has done to me, I doubt anyone would ever touch me. Ever.

Tears spill over my eyes, finally, as a sharp piece of metal is pushed against my side, on top of my third rib. He doesn’t slice into my skin, not yet, but teases goose bumps from my flesh by trailing the knife around my skin in aimless patterns.

"Just do it, Joe," Tom urges, sounding anxious at the thought of seeing my blood spill across my own skin.

At Tom’s command, the tip of the knife is dug into my skin, and I can almost feel it tearing through individual layers of my flesh. I scream, as he twirls the knife expertly, creating swirling patterns and smearing the warm heat of blood all over my ribcage. I close my eyes, not daring to watch the red liquid pour across me, and crying hard, as sobs wrack my body, making the knife cut jerkily.

Everything hurts, excruciatingly so, and scream louder than I thought possible. The boys beside me simply laugh, the exuberant sound filling the room and echoing in my ears.

I don’t know how long it is before the pain becomes too much, but it feels like years, pain searing through me with every second, every movement. The knife digs deeper every time I breathe, making me light headed and intensifying my screams.

Just when I think that I can’t take enough, that I surely can’t handle any more, the pain stops. Slowly, the bodies beside me draw away, and I can faintly hear them spitting curses at me. I’m too tired, and in too much pain, to pay any attention to them, allowing myself to succumb to the darkness flitting around the corners of my vision.

With that, I fall asleep alone on the floor, wishing that I don’t wake up, blood still streaming from me and tears still falling.