I slowly climbed to my feet and glared at my father. I was pretty sure he was immune to hate. A lot of it was aimed in his direction. I wasn't the only one who hated Thomas Langston.
"You will do what you are told."
"No, I won't. You sold me to Myra before I even shifted for the first time. I toed the line and did as you wanted, what Myra wanted. After Myra died, I didn't argue when you demanded I come back to the skulk even though, by shifter law, I was an adult and could make my own choices, but I will not be sold off again. I won't do it."
When my father raised his hand in the air again, I jutted out my chin and lifted my head. "Go ahead. Hit me. Beat me. I will not be sold off to mate again."
I was not a piece of property to be bartered with.
My father's eyes narrowed as he slowly lowered his hand. I wasn't stupid enough to believe he was giving in. He never gave in. His word was law in our skulk. Those who defied him usually paid for it in blood and tears.
I had no doubt he was considering every possible outcome for my defiance and working on a solution that would get him what he wanted.
"You will be leaving to go to the home of your new mate at the end of the week," my father finally said. "I don't care if we have to carry you out of here. It will be done."
"No."
"It's not up to you. I am alpha of this skulk. You will do as you are told or you will pay the consequences."
I shuddered, knowing just what those consequences would be, but it wasn't as if I hadn't been beaten before. My father thought he was the strongest of us because he was big and tough. He didn't know what strength was. True strength was enduring all that was thrown at me and still having the will to live.
"I will not be mated."
My father stared at me for the longest time before shouting out, "Roger!"
The door behind me swung open almost immediately. "Sir."
"Take my son downstairs and convince him to my way of thinking."
"Yes, sir."
"Nothing that can't be healed with a couple of shifts."
"Yes, sir."
I could hear the disappointment in Roger's voice.
I didn't resist when I was grabbed and dragged out of my father's office, down the hallway to the basement door, then into hell. It wouldn't do me any good. No one would interfere.
The skulk was divided into two separate groups of people. Those who were terrified of my father and those who were just as crazy as he was.
I was taken down to one of Roger's favorite rooms. Most called it hell, but never to Roger's face. There were times when those who went in never came out. Those that did come out were never quite the same again.
I'd been here before.
I cringed when my arms were raised over my head and silver cuffs were attached to my wrists, keeping me hanging in the middle of the room, my toes barely touching the floor.
The first punch sucked the air right out of my lungs. The second one made me wish I had rethought talking back. By the time Roger had worked up a sweat, I was sagging against the cuffs, just hanging there, my legs no longer able to hold me up.
What surprised me was the fact that Roger never once hit me in the face. All of his punches were reserved for my chest, abdomen, and back. But I knew what he was doing. Those bruises could be hidden with a long shirt. Bruises to the face could not.
Roger didn't say anything to me as he beat me. For some reason, that unnerved me. It was almost as if the man was single-minded in his purpose with no other thought than to inflict as much pain as he could manage without killing me.
I was pretty sure I was teetering on the edge now.
My head hung down when Roger finally stopped. When I spit out some blood, I worried I had internal injuries, especially since Roger hadn't hit me in the face at all. If he left me hanging here, I could very easily die.
Except, I knew I couldn't.
