Claimed by the Faceless Alpha

“Hello! I know someone’s out there!” I called out, but nobody came.

No one ever came except for the monster that kept me in here.

I didn’t know what day it was, or what time it was. All I knew was this… darkness. This cold darkness that had almost driven me to the point of near‑hysteria. Assuming I hadn't already lost my mind, that is. Seconds blended into minutes and minutes into hours, hours into days, and well...the only thing that seemed to bring me back to this painful reality I still refused to accept was the hunger that hollowed me out.

Every time my stomach growled, I swore I could feel my insides gnawing at themselves. With nothing to cover my body except an old, dirty shawl someone had left behind, I was completely at the mercy of the unforgiving cold in this cramped, freezing space.

My mind drifted back to the last moments of my freedom. It should have been like any other day. Most days I closed late — finishing cases, sorting through new paperwork. The walk home was always uneventful; sometimes I’d even stop to pick up groceries if I needed anything. Then that night… everything just went black.

Everything after that was a blur. When I finally came too, I was stripped of everything I’d been wearing, everything I’d had on me that night. My communicator, my ID, everything. Down to the clothes I had on.

“Please,” my voice trembled as I wrapped my arms around my body, forcing the words out. “I shouldn't be in here.”

I coughed as I pulled the filthy shawl tighter, pressing my back against the cold stone wall, trying to steal even a sliver of warmth that wasn’t there.

“Hello!” I called again, hating how desperate I sounded. “I’m a lawyer from Covenant City. This is illegal. You can’t just—”

“Good god! Would you shut the hell up already, you cunt!”

I froze. The voice came through the wall to my right — rough, sharp, irritated.

“Who’s there?” I whispered as I crawled cautiously toward it and pressed my ear to the stone. It's been only god knew how long, but this was the first time this voice had been heard. And from the sounds of it, it was definitely a woman. She sounded older, tired.

“Are you… are you a prisoner too?”

“No shit, Sherlock,” The woman snapped back. Her voice was gravelly, like stones grinding together, and absolutely dripping with disdain.

“Do you know how I can leave?” I asked, ignoring her tone. “I’m a lawyer from Covenant City — I shouldn’t even be here. Please I-"

“A lawyer, huh?” Her voice rasped dry and bitter. “Good luck with that, sweetheart.”

My lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line. “Look — I know it sounds naive, but trust me, I’ve spent years trying to shut places like this down, and I-”

“Then you must be one hell of a shitty lawyer,” the Mysterious woman interrupted me again.

“Excuse me—”

“In case you haven’t noticed, this isn’t a courtroom.” Her tone was flat and dismissive. Like she had better things to do, even though she probably didn't. I pressed on.

“If you can help me get out, I can help all of us. I can get the Dragon Council to come down hard on this place—”

“The Dragon Council doesn’t give a single shit about anything that happens outside the Sanctuaries,” she hissed, cutting me short.

“I’m not wrong,” I insisted, steadying my voice. “If you'd just let me speak, you'd know that I've documented forty‑seven disappearances connected to places like these. I was literally two weeks away from filing a formal complaint when…" I paused, stopping myself from speaking any more when I felt my frustration threaten to take over. I've been keeping myself steady up until this moment. ", When I ended up here.” I finished with a deep, shaky breath.

Silence stretched from the other side.

“Forty‑seven, huh?”

“Yes.”

“And you were going to report it? To who?”

“The Dragon Council. You might not believe in them, but they’re—”

She laughed — sharp, bitter, and sad. “Maybe you aren’t a shitty lawyer after all. Maybe you’re just a stupid one.”

My brows drew tight. “What’s the difference?”

“Shitty lawyers don’t care. Stupid ones care too much.”

“Look — I just want out,” I said, frustration rising again. “Surely there’s a way—”

“Good luck with that, princess," her voice dropped, barely a whisper now. “The only way anyone leaves this place is if someone buys you.”

Buys me? My blood ran cold. “That can’t be the only way.”

“Afraid so.”

“And how long have you been here exactly?”

I was met with silence.

“How long?” I pressed once more. The unforgiving cold nipped at my tender flesh that had never known a day of intense hardship like this as I waited for her response.

But the real question was, did I want to know?

“3 years.” She finally said. Her words hung between us like a death sentence, and I gasped, crawling away from the wall as though it had burned me.

“But to keep one locked up for that long…that’s inhumane.” My stomach churned as I looked back at the cramped prison cell. Cold, dark, and smelling of piss and vomit. To think a living human being was kept in this space for three years?

“Well, these things ain’t exactly human, are they?” The resentment behind each word was clear, as if, if she were given even an iota of chance, she would set this place on fire without a second thought.

How could I even begin to comfort her? The short answer? I couldn’t.

“So, don’t waste your breath looking for a way out of this. Escape is pointless.” Her voice went flat.

“But. I can’t be sold.” I didn’t want to be sold.

“Trust me, sweetheart, there are far worse fates than being sold to a master.” I could almost feel the hopelessness in her words, but before I could ask the hundreds of questions I had, she said. “Anyway, I’ve said more than you need to know. Information won't do you good in here.”

“Wait, please--”

CREAAAK.

Down the hall, the heavy main door groaned open. Footsteps echoed slow and heavy toward us.

“Shit,” the woman next door hissed. “He’s coming. Shut up. Don’t let him know you’ve been talking to me.”

Fear coiled tightly in my chest at the urgency in her voice that gave room to fear, and I braced myself as the footsteps drew near.

They only stopped when they were right outside my cell door.

“Oh good," the voice purred, ", you’re up.”