The Alpha's Breeder
Forty Four : Silver Bullet

WARNING: This chapter contains gory depictions of death and torture. Read at your own discretion.

My heart sunk.

Brandy dug a hole for me and didn’t realize that she was also going to be buried in it.

It was evident that she believed everything the Hunters told her. She didn’t realize that they were just using her the same way they used all those other werewolves that they captured and killed.

First, they would promise the werewolves everything to their heart’s content.

Second, they would infiltrate the pack with that werewolf’s help.

Third, they would eradicate the Alpha of the pack.

And finally, they would kill every single being within the 10-mile radius, including the werewolf that they had worked with.

Without someone leading them into the pack, the Hunters would never be able to exterminate a pack within such a short time frame.

What made Brandy think that allying herself with the Hunters was a good idea? When has that ever been a good idea?

Just because Lilith managed to escape their grasp doesn’t mean that she will too. They will turn on her when given the chance.

And it just so happens that the time has come.

Brandy was shaking with rage. It was uncontrollable like a desperate and wounded animal ready to fight for its life.

Her face morphed back and forth between humanoid and wolf features due to her wavering emotions.

Everything happened in rapid succession after that.

Instead of running, she chose to fight them head-on. Brandy leaped into the air at the Hunters, halfway through shifting into her wolf when a loud gunshot went off.

My heart stuttered a beat.

One of the Hunters shot her dead in the center of her forehead and a ring of black quickly formed as her skin was charred and burned in the span of seconds.

Brandy had no chance.

When she was hit with the bullet infused with concentrated silver and mercury, I knew that there was no going back.

She stopped midair and her wolf dissolved until she was forced back into her humanoid form. I could hear a pained whine leave her throat, choked and sharp before her body flopped over into a heap on the forest floor.

My eyes closed as a tear trickled down my chilled cheek, feeling hot and cold at the same time.

Regardless of how she treated me, Brandy didn’t deserve to die like that.

She was also a victim, used by the Hunters in order for them to achieve their wicked schemes. They played her just like they played everyone else.

Brandy made the mistake of trusting them.

And it had cost her dearly.

I sniffled, trying to calm my emotions when a Hunter stopped right at Brandy’s lifeless body. The tall male pulled a silver dagger out from the scabbard strapped on his waist and dug the sharp blade into Brandy’s chest.

With deft precision, he carved a circle through Brandy’s chest cavity and lifted the bloody flesh to dig deeper.

Just the sickening noise of her ribs shattering under the force was enough to make me turn my head away.

I couldn’t bear to watch as the Hunter dug out Brandy’s heart.

From what I knew, a silver bullet couldn’t completely kill a werewolf. There’s no guarantee that the werewolf would die and stay dead. In order to completely destroy all chances of survival, the heart or the head needs to be cleanly removed from the body and burned.

Since her heart was removed, Brandy was really dead now.

There was nothing that could bring her back.

At the terrifying notion, more tears dripped down my face, wetting my cheeks until I could barely see through the haze of my ugly emotions. I contemplated running but doubted my abilities could rival their enhanced ones.

And, as if they knew my intentions, the male with the ponytail said, “Run and we will break one of your legs, Breeder. Choose wisely.”

Chewing on my bottom lip, cold sweat dripped down the side of my face and to the column of my throat.

I stood stalk still and waited for the inevitable.

As they approached, they kept their defenses up with muscles tightly coiled and a gun aimed at my face. They acted as if I was a threat to them if not properly detained.

Smart.

“Keep the little bitch alive. Those scientists want her for their experiment,” the leader, with the glass eye, warningly said. “They don’t want damaged goods.”

At his words, my blood ran cold.

Experiment.

I was their next experiment.

What did I expect? Why else would the hunters come for me?

A bitter sarcastic smile graced my lips while angry tears tipped my lashes at the thought of my own demise. The word feels cold and barren, yet so accurate of my upcoming future once the scientists were done with me.

At this point, I already realize how pointless fighting them would be. I could do more damage than good if I anger them, and that would not be good for me or my babies.

The risk is far too high for me to attempt anything stupid.

I knew that, yet the thought of letting them easily achieve what they wanted didn’t settle with me.

So when the Hunter reached out for me, I grabbed onto his arm and bit his hand hard. He swatted me off like a fly to show me how fruitless my act of defiance was. I didn’t put up much of a fight after that, knowing that it was futile.

When they captured me, I realized something terribly disturbing.

Eros didn’t come.

No matter what I screamed into the mind-link, there was no reply.

The deadening thought made my chest tighten painfully with worry. And I couldn’t help but pray for his safety.

To all the gods out there, please keep him safe, please keep my Eros safe.

“Such pretty and smooth skin. What if I accidentally run my scalpel against her face and mar it?” a feminine voice asked through the haze with a playful and cheery intonation.

I don’t remember what happened after I was captured by the Hunters other than getting hit in the face once or twice when I tried to gouge their leader’s last eye out. They must have knocked me unconscious in order to keep me from attacking them before handing me off to these people.

Now that I am aware of my surroundings, I could feel the chilling cold seep through my skin and into my bones. I was lying naked on a cold autopsy table of some sort, and the stainless steel was freezing against my flesh.

It didn’t take me but two seconds to figure out that I was in a lab. The scent of sterile equipment and bleach was strong in the room just like in the lab that I had worked in before.

Instead of opening my eyes to look at my surroundings, I kept them closed.

I couldn’t let these people know that I was awake. If they were to find out, they would put me under again or possibly...kill me.

What good will I be dead? Who will save my children and I if I don’t?

I decided to wait for an opening, pretend that I am still unconscious and under the effects of their anesthesia for that one chance.

And if I am not given a chance, I will make one myself.

Holding my breath, I willed my limbs to remain still as I imitated death, which was not hard because the rest of me was still numb from the effects of their drugs. I couldn’t feel my arms or legs.

And even if I try to get up right now, I doubted that I could get very far before they hold me down and put me to sleep for good.

Through the bare slits of my eyes, I could see the blurry image of a male and female, working on my lower abdomen with their tools.

They were going to do surgery on me.

No.

Not surgery, because this wasn’t a hospital.

It was a butcher shop.

They cut me open like I was their next slaughter, uncaring of the damage left behind each time their scalpel marked my flesh. And they certainly didn’t care to make the cut neat as they dragged the blade across in jagged lines as if they were drawing across my abdomen just for the sick fun of it.

I was aware of every single cut across my skin because the anesthesia was starting to wear away and I could finally feel my arms and legs. Every single drag of their scalpel felt like the burning of hell left in its wake.

And, from the location that they were cutting, I could tell that they were trying to remove my womb.

But the only thing I could do now was pray that they didn’t hurt my children, prayed that they didn’t cut my womb open yet. But, I knew that they weren’t stupid enough to damage my womb before they are able to carefully analyze it, that’s the only reason they chose to keep me alive as they worked. After removing my womb, I doubt that they would bother suturing me back up because I would be useless to them.

I was as good as dead by that point.

Choking back a pained whine, I kept my mouth sealed shut; although, the pain was far worse than anything I have ever felt.

“We don’t have time to mess around, Candy,” the deeper male voice replied in an unbothered manner as if he was used to her psychotic ways and didn’t care to chide her for her behavior.

After his words, the cold slide of something sharp against my cheek immediately pulls me away from my thoughts until I could only think of the scalpel slowly dancing across my face.

My own warm blood trickled off of the scalpel and slid down the sides of my face, dripping onto the shell of my ear before collecting on the rim.

The anxiety was almost palpable. Cold sweat started to collect on my neck when I calmed my fear with a steel-strong resolve.

I don’t know where I got the strength to remain conscious because the pain was truly unbearable for a person with low pain tolerance like me.

This is the only time in my life where willpower was starting to win because I have to survive for my children.

“Don’t be such a party pooper, Scar. I’m just going to carve my name onto her face, it won’t take more than a minute,” Candy informed with this whining tone of voice.

“You’re fucked up, Candy,” he replied with a husky dark chuckle that was more encouraging than insulting.

Then, he dug his own scalpel deeper into my lower abdomen, turning the blade just enough for my stomach to bubble revoltingly in response.

The mind-blowing pain rendered me motionless.

After his statement, there was a slight pause when I felt the extremely painful sensation of my cheek getting cut open.

Candy’s cold scalpel came across my left cheek, trailed down to my chin and curled back up again.

Quietly, I dragged in a choked breath of air at the mind-numbing pain that nearly drew tears to my eyes.

“I hate it when someone is prettier than me. It makes me want to cut off their face and step all over it,” she confessed, her hand becoming heavier as I felt the scalpel cut completely through my cheek and dig into my gums.

The pain was terrible, filling every nerve fiber with the sensation of burning fire. It hurt so badly that I had to fight the need to throw up when I started swallowing down mouthfuls of my own blood.

Even my veins popped out from the restraint I showed myself, trying hard not to tense my body or grit my jaw in case they noticed.

And, in order to distract myself, I bit hard on my tongue until it bled, continuously biting until I could barely will my teeth down on the abused flesh.

Pain meant I was still alive.

Pain meant I was still breathing.

I chanted the mantra in my head, trying to fill my brain with different thoughts to keep my mind busy.

I couldn’t help but think of what would have happened if I hadn’t woken up when I had, when they first started cutting me.

What would have happened? To me? To my babies?

The terrifying thought sends fear through me that I barely manage to extinguish.

Just the thought of demise made this fire burn hotly inside of my chest, not from pain, of course, but from anger and unadulterated fury.

Several seconds later, Candy finally finished the torturous motions on my face and headed back to my abdomen with Scar.

I assume that she finished engraving her name into my face.

Most would be terrified that something like this is happening, but I’m not. Not when I have more important things to worry about, like my unborn children.

Since my skin doesn’t scar, even if she took a chunk off of my face, it would regrow and heal over.

Heaving a shiver of pain, I tried to control the slight tremble in my hands and found that I couldn’t.

But, since they were too busy trying to cut my stomach open, they did not notice how my hand shook with each slide of their scalpel against my flesh.

As I lay there, halfway numb from the pain and partially in shock, I am suddenly reminded of when Rora told me. She had said that if my womb were to ever be removed, it would grow back.

But, I don’t want it to grow back because I want the current one with my children in it.

“I’m going to take a short break. You finish up the rest, Candy,” Scar stated after completely opening a hole in my lower abdomen. He wiped his shaking hands onto a paper towel after he finished taking off the glove and washed them thoroughly with antibacterial soap.

“You know, Scar, those cigarettes will kill you before the supernaturals do,” Candy remarked as if she cared for her companion, which I doubt it because she didn’t look the type to care for anyone other than herself. “And if you die, I am going to take that black lung from your body to keep inside of a cookie jar in memory of you.”

Her words just cemented how totally insane she is.

Scar gave her the middle finger and pulled out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket before he rummaged around for his lighter.

I silently waited, counting every second down while analyzing the room through the cracks of my eyes.

When Scar finally left, I knew that this was my only chance.

It was now or never.

A/N : I know that everyone is saying that the last portion of this chapter is unrealistic but I wrote it based off of my mother’s experience when she woke up during surgery and had to lay still for over an hour to not disturb the doctors. She didn’t even scream once through the pain.

Everyone’s situation is different. I believe that a mother who is desperate to save her children can have the will power to do anything. Thank you for reading and understanding.

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