Bred by Rogues on My Alpha's Orders
Juniper Marlow · Completed · 6.5k Words
Introduction
Three years in a cage. Branded with silver. Broken like a feral. Every rogue in that compound had me. The only thing that kept me alive was a toxic root that numbed the pain — and was slowly killing me from the inside.
Then my Alpha showed up and told me the truth.
There was never any threat. He'd staged the whole thing — hired the rogues, built the compound. Because I'd embarrassed his precious Cora in front of the Pack, and he needed me to "learn my place."
Now he wanted me back. Wanted to make me his Luna again.
But I wasn't the same woman who walked into that cage. And the truth about what happened to me there?
He didn't believe a word of it.
Not until I was already dead.
Chapter 1
I let a pack of rogues cage me for three years to protect my mate.
He's the one who put me there.
When my Alpha told me a rogue faction called The Hollow was threatening to destroy Ashvale, I didn't hesitate.
I volunteered. His Luna — his fated mate — traded as a hostage to keep the Pack safe.
A hostage. That was all I was supposed to be. Captive, yes. But untouched. Unharmed.
They branded me on the first night. Heated silver pressed into the inside of my forearm until I couldn't scream anymore. Silver burns don't heal on werewolves. The scar would stay forever — a rogue ownership mark, seared into my skin.
Then they threw me in a cage.
Three years.
They took my name, my clothes, my wolf. Endless breaking and humiliation, day after day, until I forgot what I used to look like.
The first time I fought back, they told me they'd kill my mate. The second time, they showed me a photo of Rhett leaving the Pack house. They knew where he lived. They knew his routines.
So I stopped fighting.
I learned to crouch when they came near. Learned to bare my throat. Learned to drop to my knees at the sound of boots.
They made me eat in wolf form. Raw scraps on the ground, sometimes rotten. My stomach couldn't handle it. The cramps got bad enough to knock me out.
That's when I found baneroot — a toxic gray root that grew wild around the compound. The older rogues chewed it for the pain. So I learned to chew it too.
I just needed them to keep their promise. As long as I was here, Rhett was safe.
Then one afternoon in late autumn of the third year, they dragged me out of the cage.
Rhett Calloway — my Alpha — stood at the compound gate. Black jacket. Arms crossed.
"There was never any real threat from The Hollow, Neve." His voice was casual. Almost bored. "I set the whole thing up. Hired rogues, gave them this compound. It was all staged."
I stared at him.
"You were too headstrong. You humiliated Cora in front of the entire Pack when you had her companion wolf restrained. I needed you to learn your place."
He held out his hand.
"Come home. I'll make you my Luna again."
I dropped to my knees on the gravel. Couldn't stop shaking.
Three years. All of it — just a lesson.
I pressed my forehead to the ground. It was the only posture I still knew.
"Every rogue in that pit has had me, Alpha. What's left of me can't stand beside you."
Rhett scowled. "You spent some rough time out here, and now you're making up lies to get back at me?" He looked me over. "Is that really the best you've got?"
I kept my head low. Knees on gravel. Palms flat.
"I'm not lying. I'm not clean. I can't be your Luna."
His eyes narrowed. Pure impatience.
"Cora handled all the arrangements. She sent word ahead — nobody was supposed to touch you."
He stepped closer. "So maybe the conditions were harsh. Why put on this act? Unless you're going to blame Cora for something again."
"I wouldn't dare." The words shot out before I could think. Fast. Automatic. In The Hollow, I'd learned that silence was the only safe answer. Say less. Agree faster. Never make them repeat the question.
He watched me for a long moment. Then he sighed.
"Fine. At least you've learned to behave. Three years wasn't a total waste."
He said it like a compliment.
Three years of being caged and branded and mounted by strangers, and he called it learning to behave.
"I've had the Luna suite redone," he went on. "Top to bottom. As long as you don't go after Cora again, it's yours."
He reached down to pull me up.
His fingers closed around my arm, and my body moved before my brain did. I jerked backward — hard, fast, violent. Hit the ground three feet away, crouched low, arms braced in front of me.
Like a cornered animal.
Because that's what three years in a cage had turned me into.
Rhett's face went dark. "Don't test my patience, Neve."
But I could barely hear him anymore.
My stomach clenched — sudden and brutal. Burning. Twisting. My vision blurred. I couldn't breathe.
Luna. Pack house. The renovated suite. None of it mattered. I just needed the pain to stop.
I dropped to all fours and crawled toward the edge of the gravel lot where gray roots poked through the soil. Baneroot.
Rhett caught my arm and yanked me back. "What are you doing? That root is toxic."
I ripped free.
In front of his enforcers, in front of the rogues still watching from behind the compound fence, I clawed baneroot out of the dirt with my bare hands and shoved it into my mouth. Chewed until the bitter juice hit my stomach and the cramp loosened just enough to let me breathe.
Rhett stood over me. Jaw tight.
"You're going to be my Luna, Neve. You're supposed to stand beside me. Look at yourself."
His voice dropped.
"If you really want to play this game, I have no problem leaving you here for another three years."
I looked up at him. At his clean hands and his clean jacket and his face full of disgust.
Toxic?
I've been eating it for three years.
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