CAUGHT BY THE ALPHA

2. Second Attempt

Word Count: 2354

- Sierra P.O.V.

July(?), ?, 2021

Have you ever experienced the sensation of emptiness after drinking too much on an empty stomach? The aftermath is like waking up on a cold dungeon floor, unsure of how you got there. It's a strange cocktail of nausea, headache, and a fiery pain in your shoulder. The pain was so intense, it felt amplified, as if some unknown force was making me feel more. My insides felt shattered, I was trembling, ready to spill my secrets. Not a good sign.

When I tried to move, the clinking of chains echoed in my ears, pushing me to the brink of madness. I felt unsteady and disoriented, I knew this was not normal. This was the result of a heavy drug. The Alpha had no boundaries. Was he planning to keep me in a drugged state?

The sound of boots scraping against concrete froze me and my thoughts. His presence was so overwhelming, it was almost suffocating. I couldn't see him, my eyes heavy with the effects of the drug. His scent was potent, a heady mix of arrogance and dominance that filled my senses.

Summoning all my resentment, I attempted to regain my strength. But the drug was wreaking havoc on my thoughts, making them scatter in all directions. I tried to wipe my mind clean, fearing he could read minds. I wanted to learn more about him.

Somehow, I knew he didn't want to do this, not like this. He was seething with anger, likely fueled by the stories they had fed him about me. I knew the truth, but sharing it wouldn't help, it might even endanger us all. It was on me to bear this burden, after all, it was my carelessness that got us into this mess. But, the research comes first.

His laughter echoed in the room, the vibrations causing my thoughts to scatter once again. These Alphas were unbearable! Their energy was oppressive, as if they believed the world should yield to them. Opting for solitude was my best decision.

The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly as he detected the change in my demeanor, or perhaps the anger simmering within me. I dared not move, fearing it might provoke an unexpected response. I'd dealt with enough troublemakers by now. He needed to believe I was still under the influence of the drug, that this wasn't the right time to interrogate me or cause me harm. What I needed was time to think. My memories were fragmented and I couldn't recall how everything fell apart. If only he would say something to help me remember. I didn't recall consuming anything suspicious. Everything was fine during the drive, but then something must have transpired. I never reached my destination, that much I knew. A wave of panic washed over me as I thought about the equipment I'd left in the car. What did they know by now? It was all I could think about.

His approach was filled with an energy that screamed, "I rule this world," which annoyed me to no end. His title said it all, and as far as I was aware, only a select few knew about the project, none of whom had a good reputation. In fact, I had previously investigated some of them during my free time, assuming that everything would go according to plan. Just as I thought the drug's effects were fading, I felt another wave of it. My fears returned, my thoughts raced. Maybe he intended to drug me more, break me until I spoke. Under normal circumstances, I'd confidently declare that no one could break my mind, but under the influence of this drug, I wasn't so sure.

He remained silent, observing every move, every breath I tried to suppress, every sound the chains made. He had sharp hearing. It was clear he didn't believe I was heavily drugged; he sensed I was coherent enough to talk. But I needed to buy some time to think. The information I possessed was too valuable. I could choose the coward's way out and abandon everyone, but failure was not an option.