By Werewolf 8

Summary & Review: By Werewolf

The story opens on a dark, stormy night as Rachel runs frantically through the rain, her body aching and lungs burning. Every step feels like torture, but she can’t stop—she’s already late. And in her world, being late has consequences. The memory of her last punishment haunts her; she was only two minutes late then, and the beating left her unable to lie down for a week. Now, dread coils in her stomach. If her father is angry again, she fears he might actually kill her this time.

Soaked and trembling, she finally reaches her father’s office. Before entering, Rachel hears voices through the slightly open door. Her stepmother, Isabel, is speaking in a tone dripping with malicious glee. “Darling… in a few days, she won’t be our problem anymore.” Rachel freezes, her mind spinning. She? Were they talking about her? Isabel’s next words send chills down her spine — “…they’ll take her away, and we’ll get the money.”

Confusion and terror fill Rachel’s thoughts. Who would “take her away”? Why was there money involved? Before she can make sense of it, a familiar mocking voice whispers behind her, “Tick tock, Rachel. You’re late again.” It’s Daniel, her stepbrother — the one who has haunted her life for years with his unwanted advances.

Daniel eyes her soaked clothes with that same predatory gleam that makes her skin crawl. He reaches to touch her face, and she jerks away. “Don’t touch me,” she snaps, but he only smirks and pushes the door open, announcing her presence to the room.

Inside, her father, Henry Sullivan, looks up, anger already simmering in his bloodshot eyes. The heavy scent of whiskey fills the air. Isabel sits beside him, her long nails tapping impatiently against the desk. “I told you she was trouble,” she sneers. “Sneaking around and eavesdropping like a rat.”

Henry’s voice roars like thunder, shaking Rachel to her core. “Were you listening in on us?” She stammers, trying to think fast. “I—I brought the money I earned today…” She fumbles for her small wallet, hoping the offering will calm him down.

But Isabel’s cold laugh cuts through the air. “Trying to cover your crimes with a few dollars? How clever.”

Henry snatches the wallet from her trembling hands and dumps its contents on the desk. His eyes narrow. “This is all?”

“The rain kept customers away today,” Rachel says softly. “I gave you everything I earned.”

Her words only enrage him further. “You dare mock me? Are you saying I depend on you to feed me?” His voice rises, his face flushed with fury.

“No! I’m sorry—please don’t—”

But it’s too late. His hand strikes her with brutal force, sending her crashing to the floor. Pain explodes across her cheek, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth. Before she can recover, his fists rain down again, striking her back and head. She curls into a ball, sobbing, “Father, please stop!”

Isabel’s voice cuts in, not out of concern but calculation. “You’ll kill her, Henry. Remember—her pretty face and voice are her biggest assets. We don’t want to damage those.”

Henry’s hand pauses mid-air. Breathing heavily, he snarls, “She’s clearly not working hard enough. This money is nothing!”

Isabel sighs dramatically. “Anyway, you spoke with Tyler this morning. The plan for her is already in motion. In a few days, our financial problems will be solved, and she won’t be our concern anymore.”

Rachel’s mind spins. What plan? What are they talking about?

Henry looks down at her with a cruel smile. “You seem confused, daughter.”

Isabel leans forward, her eyes gleaming. “Tell her, Henry. I bet she’ll be thrilled about the news.”

Henry straightens, adjusting his shirt, and says with chilling calmness, “You’re going to do something important for us. Something that will change our lives forever. You will serve the Alpha of the Ironjaw Pack. He needs a breeder—and he’s willing to pay good money for one.”

Rachel’s heart stops. A breeder. She knows exactly what that means. Breeders are women used to produce heirs for powerful Alphas—nothing more than property, discarded once their purpose is fulfilled.

She stares at them, trembling. “No… please. Don’t make me do this.”

Isabel smirks, her voice coated in venomous sweetness. “Oh, come now, Rachel. You should be honored to serve the richest, most powerful Alpha of all. He may have killed many, but he’s famous. Being part of his pack is a privilege.”

Rachel can barely breathe. The Ironjaw Alpha is known throughout the region for his brutality. The stories about him—killing his own servants, even members of his pack—are enough to make anyone shiver.

Desperate, she crawls toward her father, clutching the hem of his pants. “Please, Father, don’t send me to him. I’ll work harder. I promise. I’m your daughter—your only child! I can still make you proud, carry your name—”

Henry’s face contorts with rage, and before she can finish, his fist slams into her ribs. She cries out, curling up on the floor. “How dare you speak to her like that!” he shouts when Rachel turns to Isabel for help.

Her tears flow freely now, blurring her vision as memories of a happier time resurface—back when her mother, Marie, was still alive. Back when her father had been kind and called her his “little lark.” The man who had once loved her was gone, replaced by this drunken monster.

“Father, please,” she sobs, “if Mother were still alive—”

She doesn’t get to finish. His hands wrap around her throat, lifting her from the ground. “You will do as I say,” he growls, slamming her against the wall. She claws at his hands, gasping for air as black dots cloud her vision.

Finally, he releases her and calls, “Daniel.”

Her stepbrother appears immediately, smirking. “Yes, Alpha?”

Henry glares down at Rachel. “Take her upstairs. Clean her up. Our esteemed guest will arrive soon, and I don’t want her looking like this.”

Rachel’s body trembles violently as Daniel steps forward, his eyes filled with the same sick desire as before. As he reaches for her, everything fades.

The last thing she feels before darkness takes her is the burning ache of betrayal — her father, the man who once called her his angel, has sold her to a monster.

Her mind echoes with one final thought as she slips into unconsciousness: How did it come to this?

She remembers her mother’s gentle voice singing her to sleep, whispering, “You have the voice of an angel, my little lark. One day, it will bring you happiness.”

But that prophecy feels cruelly ironic now. Her voice and her beauty — the gifts her mother once cherished — have become the very chains that seal her fate.

As sleep claims her, Rachel’s final conscious thought is filled with despair. Her life is no longer her own. She is nothing but a tool — a breeder for a ruthless Alpha whose name alone makes wolves tremble.

And somewhere deep inside her, a fragile hope dies, leaving only fear, pain, and the faint echo of the rain that still beats relentlessly against the window.