The Beta's Unwanted Mate | ✔️ Complete

60 | numb

Maybe because they wanted me to call when I woke up myself.

But nothing left me mouth as I tried to grasp the concept that this was really happening. That I was really kidnapped. All my life, my parents have protected me from the evils of the dark werewolf world, and within weeks of their absence, I let this happen to myself?

How irresponsible and awful am I?

My eyes burned with unshed tears and my chest constricted in fear as I wonder why I had been taken. Or what they could do to me.

The over thinking made the foreign pain in my head to increase till it stung and I almost screamed in annoyance.

I remembered everything clearly, I was in my car when I crashed into a truck, causing my head to band the steering wheel. Thankfully the air bags prevented my body from crushing and acted as shock absorbers but still I had a huge gash on my forehead that caused me to pass out.

After that, what happened, I don't know. But what I do know is that my head isn't hurting enough to indicate a huge injury, so I must have healed due to quick werewolf healing.

My throat felt dry as sandpaper as I tried to utter something, so with great difficulty, I screamed, "HELP! Is anybody there? Help me please!"

What I thought was a scream, came of more as a raspy whisper because of dry throat and it hurt as hell.

I gulped, trying to get some saliva to moisten my mouth but the whisper must have been enough for them to understand that I had woken up, because I heard footsteps.

My heart beated away fast as I silently hoped for that person to be a helper. Maybe the evil ones had gone away for some work, and this one nice person will help me escape?

I knew it was wishful thinking and I was holding on to the fringes of hope, but that was all I could do.

Hope is toxic, I had established, but it was all I was left with.

My vulnerable eyes watched as a man dressed in all black entered the dungeon through metal rod gates which resembled police jails.

He wasn't as hunky and muscular as I had expected him to be. But then again, he doesn't have to be the head of this group or pack.

He watched me for a while and then exited the dungeon, to probably call his alpha. Soon, the sound of footsteps of a several people, instead of just one were heard and the door opened once again to reveal the same man, a rather large muscular man, a meek looking lady with glasses and another man dressed in black.

The two men, who seemed like the guards stood on the two sides of the large man who was looking at me with a frown on his face, yet a triumphant look in his eyes. And the lady took a position on the corner of the room.

His face wasn't very clear due to the lack of lighting. But his features seemed mature, yet malicious. He had a huge scar on his forehead, a scar on his cheek and a conspicuous cut right above this eye, telling me that he was a man who fought a lot. Battles or practice

I also noticed that all of them had a horrible, dead fish like smell associated with them, meaning they were rogues.

It is a clear cut distinction. Respectable Werewolves with packs smell pleasant, lone wolves smell like nothing and rogues smell atrocious.