Chosen for My Alpha's Mate

Luciela’s POV

“Where is my order!” I heard someone yell so I rushed towards them with a tray in hand.

My daily life was a repetitive cycle of wiping down sticky counters, dodging the wandering hands of drunken regulars, and trying to ignore the constant ache in my feet. I worked double shifts just to keep my head above water, yet my bank account had been sitting at zero for weeks.

The day before everything fell apart, my phone had buzzed in my pocket and my heart nearly stopped when I saw the name on the screen. It was my mother. I hadn't seen or heard from her in three long years, not since she walked out following the funeral. Every attempt to reach her over those years proved abortive and now, she was calling. When I answered, she acted like she hadn’t disappeared for three whole years. She told me she was finally coming to meet me because she had something important to tell me.

I spent the next twenty-four hours in anticipation. I wondered if she was finally coming home to be the mother I remembered from my childhood. That hope was the only thing that kept me smiling as I carried heavy crates of liquor through the pub.

That hope shattered on Friday night.

The cold, unforgiving press of steel against my temple was the only thing silencing the roar of the Friday night crowd.

"Don’t scream, sweetheart," a voice rasped, barely above a whisper as his hot breath fanned my exposed neck. "Unless you want the last thing you hear to be a very loud bang."

I froze and swallowed the scream that threatened to tear through my lips. The smell of cheap cologne and gunpowder filled my lungs, suffocating me and reminding me of whose mercy I was under. I didn't have to look at him to know who he was. People like him didn't come to The Rusty Anchor for a drink. They came to collect. They came to instill fear and make the lesser ones tremble.

"I don't have it," I choked out, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else.

"Wrong answer," the gunman murmured. The barrel dug deeper into my skin and tilted my head to the side. "The count was short. Ten thousand short. And since you were the one working the till..."

"I don't know where it is, please! Just… hold on," I gasped, my mind racing through a maze. "Let me talk to my manager. He’s in the back. Maybe there’s a mistake in the books."

The gunman let out a dry laugh that rubbed me the wrong way. "The only mistake was thinking you could steal from us and keep your heart beating."

“Please, I swear it’s a mistake! You can come for my head after I don’t provide it, but please, let me talk to my manager,” I pleaded. It was the only thing I could do.

He turned my shoulders and stared into my eyes, searching for a lie. “Don’t play with me, sweetheart. We will be back before you know it,” he said, taunting me.

“Yes, please,” I said, nodding eagerly.

After a few more seconds of silence, he finally let me go and took a step back. With one last look at me, he signaled to the two other guys keeping watch. Together, they got onto their motorcycles and sped off. Only then did I dare to breathe. I didn't take any money from them, and I didn't have a penny to pay back either. I rushed back inside the pub and headed for the manager’s office. When I pulled his door open, the disdainful look he threw my way made my heart sink.

“You’re a liability, kid, and nothing more. You’ve got a scent that smells like trouble and every day with you draws unwanted attention. You are on your own. My debt to you ended when you brought those gunmen onto my property,” Julian said, his cold words seeping into me.

“Please, sir,” I begged as tears filled my eyes. I crumbled to the floor in despair, but he didn't even glance my way. He returned to munching on some chips.

“Leave,” he barked, pushing a leaking trash bag into my arms. “Make yourself useful and take this out. Don’t bother coming back here.”

I cried and begged him to give me some money, but he only pushed me out of his office. I cried bitterly as I walked through the back exit. I looked around and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw I was alone. As I dumped the trash, my phone beeped with a text from the landlord reminding me of my rent that was long overdue. The text reminded me of my dilemma and I broke into fresh tears. Only a few moments later, I heard the sound of a motorcycle. They were back.

Before I could try to run back to the pub, I was surrounded.

“Where’s our money?” the leader asked as he got off the bike and stalked toward me.

“Please, I’m trying—”

“Trying isn’t paying. You lied to us, little wolf.”

Before I could say another word, he signaled for two of his men to attack me. The first blow caught me in the ribs, causing me to lose my footing and crash to the floor. Pain exploded in my stomach and I let out a groan.

“Please…”

My words were cut short as a heavy boot rammed into my stomach while I tried to curl into a ball to protect my head. They didn't use claws or teeth. They used their heavy boots to trample me. My cry of pain was swallowed by their cruel laughter. I tried to crawl away, but it was futile. A final kick to my temple sent my eyes rolling to the back of my head. My whole world tilted as I fell into darkness.

I woke up with a groan as I tried to figure out where I was. My whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. My tired eyes trailed to the familiar silhouette sitting by the side of my bed.

“Mom?” I rasped, my voice cracking.

The last time we saw each other was about three years ago, and every attempt to reach her had failed. For a split second, the pain in my ribs didn't matter. She was actually here. She had come for me just like she promised on the phone. I reached out a shaky hand toward her, expecting her to take it and tell me everything was going to be okay.

“I see you’re awake,” she said. She didn't take my hand. Instead, she stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “Why do you always get yourself in trouble with just the slightest chance? You should be happy I was in town to come running to your rescue.”

My hand dropped back to the thin hospital sheet. The warmth I felt a second ago vanished. I took a confused look around the room and realized I was in a cheap hospital.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I have no idea. But one thing is for sure. You’re in debt, you've been working shifts, and you’ve been kicked out of that tiny apartment,” she said. There was no pity in her voice.

“Oh no…” I whimpered. I remembered the landlord's text and the gunmen. “How long have I been out?”

“Two days.”

My eyes widened in shock and I tried to sit up, which turned impossible. “I have to go back to work. I have to find a way to pay them back,” I said, panic rising in my heart.

“There will be no need for that,” she snapped. She flashed her hand in front of my face, nearly poking my eye with her long, manicured nails. A massive diamond ring caught the harsh fluorescent light. “I got engaged. We are moving in with him. You don't have to worry about work anymore because everything is handled.”

I stared at the ring, then back at her cold eyes. “We? You haven't called me in three years, Mom. You didn't even ask if I was okay. You just want me to move in with some stranger? Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” The familiar sting of betrayal hit me hard. I felt foolish for thinking we were going to be a family again.

“He has three sons,” she continued, ignoring my question entirely. “The house is massive. Having a daughter there makes me look like a devoted family woman. It’s a perfect arrangement for everyone.”

“For everyone? You mean for you!” I yelled, the movement sending a sharp bolt of pain through my side. “You aren't here because you care about me. You're here because you need a prop for your new life. I am not going anywhere with you.”

“You will do exactly as I say, Luciela,” she hissed, leaning over the bed until our faces were inches apart. The mask of the concerned mother was gone. “You are homeless, jobless, and those men are still looking for their money. I am the only thing standing between you and a shallow grave.”

“I’d rather take my chances in the street than be your slave again,” I spat, though my voice trembled.

“Don’t be a fool,” she growled. “You think you have a choice? If you choose to be stubborn, I’ll never let you have your late father’s box. I’ll burn every letter and every photo he left for you. You’ll have nothing left of him but the dirt on his grave.”

I stiffened, the air leaving my lungs. She knew that box was the only thing I had kept of the man who actually loved me.

“You wouldn't,” I whispered.

“Try me,” she replied, her face hardening. “Now, stop crying and start healing. We leave in two days.”