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The Scars She Hid From The World

REGINA MCBRIDE

The heavy iron gates of the Wilderness Correction Camp groaned as they released me after three years of state-sponsored hell. I stood on the dirt road, clutching a plastic bag that held my entire life, waiting for the family that claimed they sent me there for "rehab." My brother, Brady, picked me up in a luxury SUV only to throw me out onto a deserted highway in the middle of a brewing storm. He told me I was a "public relations nightmare" and that the rain might finally wash the "stink" of the camp off me. He drove away, leaving me to limp miles through the mud on a snapped ankle. When I finally dragged myself to our family estate, my mother didn't offer a hug; she gasped in horror because my muddy clothes were ruining her Italian marble. They didn't give me my old room back. Instead, they banished me to a moldy gardener’s shack and hired a "babysitter" to make sure I didn't embarrass them further. My sister, Kaleigh, stood there in white cashmere, pretending to cry while clinging to her fiancé, Ambrose—the man who had once been mine. They all treated me like a volatile junkie, refusing to acknowledge that Kaleigh was the one who planted the drugs in my bag three years ago. They wanted to believe I was broken so they wouldn't have to feel guilty about the "wellness retreat" that was actually a torture chamber. I sat in the dark of that shed, feeling the cooling gel on the cigarette burns that covered my arms, and realized they had made a fatal mistake. They thought they had erased me, but I had returned with a roadmap of scars and a hidden satellite phone. At dinner, I didn't beg for their love. I simply rolled up my sleeves and showed them the price of their silence. As the wine spilled and the lies crumbled, I sent a single text to the only person I trusted: "I'm in. Let them simmer." The hunt was finally on.

Modern Revenge Scheming

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Amara's POV

The sound of my name echoing through the crowded pack hall felt like a death sentence. My knees buckled, and I gripped the edge of the wooden table for support. Whispers rippled through the crowd, their eyes sharp, full of judgment and mockery. My mate, my supposed protector, stood at the center of the room with a smirk stretched across his face.

"Amara Hale," Jaxon announced, his voice dripping with false confidence. "An omega no one wants. But tonight, gentlemen, she can be yours- for the right price."

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, followed by a wave of laughter. My heart plummeted, shattered into irreparable pieces. Jaxon, my mate, the one the Moon Goddess had chosen for me, was selling me like livestock.

"Stop this," I whispered, my voice trembling as I took a step forward. "Jaxon, please. You don't have to do this."

His piercing green eyes met mine, void of any affection or remorse. The man I had once trusted with my heart was a stranger now, his features cold and unyielding.

"This is for the best, Amara," he said flatly, not bothering to lower his voice. "You're weak. An embarrassment. I can't be tied to someone like you."

Shame burned hot in my chest, the humiliation almost too much to bear. The crowd, hungry for entertainment, erupted into cruel jeers. I clenched my fists at my sides, swallowing the lump rising in my throat.

The auction began, Jaxon's voice cutting through the noise like a blade. I wanted to run, to escape the hellish nightmare unfolding before me, but my feet felt rooted to the ground.

Then he walked in.

The room fell into an unnatural hush as a tall figure strode through the open doors, his presence commanding attention. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, every inch of him exuding power and danger. The sharp angles of his jawline, the intensity of his dark eyes, and the air of authority around him made the others shrink in his presence.

Dante Moretti.

Everyone knew who he was. The Alpha mafia leader, feared across territories for his ruthlessness. A man whose name was synonymous with power, wealth, and bloodshed.

He didn't glance at anyone else, his gaze fixed solely on me. My stomach twisted in apprehension under the weight of his scrutiny. There was no kindness in his eyes, only a cold calculation that sent a shiver down my spine.

"I'll take her," he said, his deep, commanding voice slicing through the silence.

The room erupted in murmurs. Dante didn't wait for a response. He pulled out a thick envelope from his coat pocket and tossed it onto the table where Jaxon stood.

"No one else needs to bid," Dante added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jaxon hesitated, his bravado faltering under Dante's unyielding glare. Greed eventually won out, and he snatched up the envelope without a second thought.

"She's yours," Jaxon said, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Good luck."

The finality of his words hit me like a punch to the gut. My mate had sold me to a man like Dante without a second thought.

Dante stepped closer, his imposing figure towering over me. He didn't speak, simply reached out and gripped my arm firmly, pulling me toward the exit. I tried to resist, but his strength was impossible to match.

"Let me go," I hissed, my voice shaking with anger and fear.

He glanced at me briefly, his expression unreadable. "Not a chance."

The cold night air hit my skin as we stepped outside. Dante's black SUV waited at the curb, the driver already holding the door open.

"Get in," he ordered.

I stood frozen, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run. But where would I go? My pack had already turned its back on me. Jaxon had made sure of that.

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