Trent sneers before knocking out the kind soul who tried to save me. It's as if the universe curses everyone who shows me mercy; the world would be much better without me.

Trent doesn't take long to throw me into a stone cellar. 'This is it,' I say to my wolf.

He'll use us and then get rid of us. He'll have the decency to put me out of my misery.

Metal chains bind me for the second time tonight. The only distinction is that these are made of silver. "What's fun without a little pain?" Trent laughs as silver burns my skin.

I'm still in wolf form, but I must change soon. "Let's get this party started, shall we?"

Trent grabs my face with one hand and squeezes so hard that another bruise forms. When he yanks on my fur, it's too much for my body to bear, and I revert to human form. "You have a lot of scars; what kind of whorehouse were you from?" he jokes.

Tears well up in my eyes as I realize my body is completely exposed and at his mercy. Even though this isn't the first time I've been in a situation like this, I'm fairly certain it will be the last thing I do before I die.

"Stop," I mumble helplessly as he pulls out a knife.

He drags the sharp blade down my arm, occasionally changing the pressure on my skin. I try bracing myself, but it doesn't help. You'd think this wouldn't be a problem after years of abuse.

I thought that was the end of it before he took me, but I was very wrong. This sadistic man unbuckles his belt, strikes me in the head with the metal portion, and then turns around to retrieve a real whip.

"Stop. Please stop!" I sob as it falls again on my back. I end up begging him to kill me right now.

A ferocious growl cuts off my tormentor's words, "Shut up, you-" I whimper and close my eyes in response to the loud noise. A growl like that can only come from someone with a lot of power; it can't be good for me.

The chains are broken a split second later, and powerful arms engulf me.

My rescuer growls, "Mate."

Xavier POV

When I'm alerted about a female rogue, I run alongside my Beta on the border of our territory. "I'll go down to the cells; you go, scout, where she was discovered," I tell Brad via mind link.

I'm about a mile from my destination when I notice an incredible smell. I don't hesitate to follow it, leading me to the cells.

'Come on! Please hurry!'My wolf orders cheerfully. I follow his instructions, but when I arrive at the source of the odor, I find one of my fighters torturing a girl.

In a rage, I let out a ferocious growl and snapped his neck. The beauty in front of me is bleeding profusely on the dirty floor. Did Trent do everything?

When I yank her chains off, blood splatters all over my hands. "Mate," I growl, clutching her naked body.

I don't even notice the scars on her body; all I can think about is keeping her alive.

She is still conscious but unaware of what is happening around her. As I sprint towards the pack hospital, her breath comes out of her short pants. "Sweetheart, keep your eyes open," I tell her.

The hospital is within walking distance.

When I storm through the doors, I order everyone to assist the poor girl in my arms. No one dares ask who she is or why I brought her here; they should know better. When I try to follow them into the operating room, a nurse tells me, "Alpha, you have to stay out here and wait."

"I need to be in there."

"Alpha, I'm sorry, but you'll slow the doctors down." That's all it takes for me to remain put.

**** (after a week)

Beep. Beep. Beep.

That's the only sound that lets me know she's still alive. My friend won't be able to walk alone with four broken ribs, a broken wrist, a fractured leg, and a broken ankle. Gauze wraps around her shoulders and back, where most of the bleeding occurred.

I haven't left her side since I brought her home. I've been sleeping in uncomfortable hospital chairs while holding her tiny hand; I want to be beside her when she wakes up today.

I haven't seen her eyes yet, but I'm sure they're as innocent as the rest of her. There's something strangely familiar about this girl that I can't place.

I learned that she had endured years of abuse because of her weight and scars, not all of which were Trent's fault.

The doctors said they didn't know my friend's age, but her weight was unhealthy. Seventy-six pounds isn't even half of my weight.

A sniffle jolts me out of my reverie. I look at my friend's face and watch her baby-blue eyes slowly open. "You're awake," I try to say, but only grumble.

She doesn't open her mouth to speak; instead, she looks at me with fear. "I-I'm sorry for g-going i-into your t-territory," she stammers, the heart monitor beeping louder in the background.

"Just kill me already," she begs, bracing herself for a punch.

"Why would I do that?" I ask, puzzled and hurt. I'm unsure what makes her think I'd hurt one of my friends.

"Everyone wants to. P-please make it quick."

"I brought you here, and you're my mate." I lean forward to caress her cheek as a caring gesture, but she flinches away before I can touch her.

As my friend begins to panic, the heart monitor beeps faster and faster. A nurse rushes into the room and begins speaking to her. "Take some deep breaths; your body won't be able to handle any more injections."

It takes her ten minutes to calm down completely. Holding her hand would have helped, but it had the opposite effect. "I'm not going to hurt you, sweetheart," I say quietly, keeping my voice from becoming too loud. It's bad enough that she's afraid of me; I must be careful not to scare her further.

"You're going to reject me, they said," she says quietly.

"I would never reject you. I just found you," I say, "and who told you that?"

My question is one to which she will wait to respond. "What's your name?" I inquire, shifting the subject.

"Char-Charisse Belle."

I recognize her.

"My name is Xavier Ryan," I say, almost reaching to take her hand. I extend my hand, expecting her to shake it, but she never does. She stares at my hand as if it were a trap.

"R-Ryan? You're an Alpha." Charisse grips the bedsheets by the sides.

With a nod, I confirm, "Of the Moon Shadow Pack."

I sit next to the hospital bed and gaze down at her. "Don't be afraid of me; I won't hurt you," I say quietly.

After a few seconds of shamelessly inspecting her facial features, I've been straining her neck by forcing her to lie flat on the bed. I frown as I press a button to allow Charisse to sit up, seeing her terrified expression. "Why am I here?" she muffles.

"Because you're hurt."

"But why did you take me here?" she asks innocently, peering up at me.

"Why wouldn't I? As your mate, it's my job to protect you."

"No one's ever been nice to me."

My frown deepens as she responds.

"What exactly do you mean?"

"My old pack, even the Omegas, despised me; they hit and starved me," Charisse explains. I immediately regret my growl when she flinches and shields herself with her arms.

I move my hands up to her forearms and gently guide them away from her face, holding her elbows. Her eyes are closed tight until I place light kisses on each of her knuckles. "Where are the sparks coming from?" she asks, her eyes welling up.

"You feel sparks because we're mates; that's why it's good when I do this," I say as I lean in and kiss Charisse's baby-soft lips. My actions take her aback, but instead of resisting or freaking out, she kisses back just a little.

Xavier's Pov

"You feel sparks because we're mates; that's why it's good when I do this," I add as I lean in and kiss Charisse's baby-soft lips. My actions take her aback, but instead of resisting or freaking out, she kisses back just a little.

Our kiss was brief, but it couldn't have been better; knowing that she kissed back a little reassures me that I could have a great connection with her. I notice her bright crimson cheeks as I back away from her. "We're friends," I confirm.

Charisse nods and turns away shyly. "Look at me," I say as I take both of her hands in mine.

"I don't want to pressure you into doing anything. We'll take things slowly, okay?"

She nods again in agreement but does not open her mouth to respond.

"Ah, you're awake." A few moments later, Doctor Simpson arrives.

"When will Charisse be discharged?" I want to get right to the point.

"After you finish these papers, Alpha," he says, offering me a packet and some tablets before walking away.

After skimming over the questions, I realize I need to learn more of the answers. I only have the name and the date.

I asked, "How old are you, baby?"

"I don't know."

"Do you happen to know when your birthday is?"

She sighs and shakes her head.

"I forgot many things when my old pack beat me," she says. I keep my gaze fixed on the pen and abstain from striking anything.

"Do you have any relatives?" Or whether you were born in your previous pack or not?"

"I know I had parents and possibly a big brother." But I know nothing else about my life," she says quietly.

"We can do a blood test if you're okay with it--to see if we can find a relative and get more information about you." I propose.

Charisse blinks and then looks at the IVs hooked on her body. "You don't have to do that for me; I don't want to waste any more of your time," she says, declining the offer.

Was I wasting my time? Even though I can't sense her feelings, she wants to learn more about herself. It's clear from all the medication and support she needs that she's been abused and starved for years. "Doc, can we do a blood test to get more information on Charisse?" I ask.

"I'm sorry, Alpha, but she won't be able to handle any more blood loss," he says, but his tone betrays his apathy.

'Shit's about to get real,' muses my wolf.

I rise and indicate for Dr. Simpson to join me in the corridor. I don't want my flatmate to hear me doing this, so I go a few rooms down. "Why in the hell are you lying to me?" I ask in a disturbingly calm tone.

He looks at me.

"Answer me when I ask you a question!" I demand that you throw him against the wall by the neck.

"She could perform a blood test, Alpha." Please forgive me," he begs forgiveness.

"If you commit another offense against my mate, I will personally kill you." I threaten to release him.

I hurry back to Charisse with one last peek. How dare a shifter oppose his Alpha in such a way; if it hadn't been for the fact that he was treating my mate, I would've killed him. I still want to murder him.

"Shit." When I smell Brad inside my friend's hospital room, I mutter.

"Merda." I hear him cuss, his Italian origins showing through.

'Who is this?' he says, peering at Charisse over the mind link.

'This is my pal. 'Stop looking at her.' I growl.

'How come she looks so familiar?' he wonders. Stop gazing at her, you moron!

'What exactly do you mean? 'She just awoke.'

'She looks like an older version of my sister,' he replies, fists clenched. He had a younger sister who was abducted when he was seven. His parents looked for him for five years, but Brad never gave up; I even gave him time off work to do so.

Brad Belle, Charisse Belle, hold on a second. Their surnames are not of Italian origin, but they were raised in an Italian-style environment.

"Charisse, didn't you say you had a brother?" I consulted with my colleague.

"I think so; I don't remember that much," she says.

"How about his name? Do you know your brother's name?" Brad inquires eagerly. She was taken by whichever pack she came from if he and Charisse were siblings.

"B-Francis, Stephen, something beginning with a B."

"It's possible that this is his. This could be my sister." Brad mutters as he runs his fingers over his hair. My best buddy and mate are most likely siblings, but there's only one way to find out: a blood test.

"Did I do something wrong?" Charisse inquires, her face concerned. Her heart monitor beeps faster as she nervously fidgets with the hospital blanket.

"No, darling. We believe you and Brad are linked." I say this in an attempt to calm her down. It's reasonable for Luna to feel concerned about her packmates, but believing she's the source is quite another.

"Here." Brad offers Charisse a cup of water, and I realize how dry her throat must be.

"Thank you." She gently holds the cup as if it were the most valuable object in the world.

"Doctor Simpson said you requested a blood test, Alpha?"

"Yes, Brad is going to do it as well." Finding out if they're related will be faster if they both do the blood test.

"These are only for her appetite and to relieve pain." "The Luna may feel dizzy and hungry, but it's best if you don't force her to eat more than she can handle," advises the nurse.

"Is there anything I should be cautious of?"

"Just don't put too much pressure on her bones or do anything violent in her presence." We discovered a lot of tension and mental trauma when we did a brain scan."

I nod and return my gaze to Charisse. She'd been sleeping for a few hours and wasn't awake when we discovered she and Brad were related.

He assured me he would let her get used to me before taking on the big brother role.

"No way, no how. "It won't happen again," she mutters in her sleep.

I gently shake her shoulder to wake her, but it is ineffective. I shake her harder as her arms move to cover her head. She blinks open her eyes and glances around the room, perplexed and panting. "It was just a dream, and you're safe with me." I coo, clutching her close.

All IVs had been removed earlier, and I had spent the last few hours filling out paperwork and asking nurses questions. "We can go home now," I inform Charisse.

Her reaction breaks my heart. "I don't have a place to call home."

"Your home is with me," I say.

"Really?"

"I'm not giving you up now that I've finally found you."

I help her carefully leave the bed and place the crutches under her arms. She's stable when I stand back and let her carry her weight but falls when she tries to walk with the crutches. I'm holding her body and keeping it from collapsing. "You okay?" she asks, nodding.

I carry her bridal gown out of the hospital, one arm beneath her knees and the other supporting her back. "Whose shirt is this?" she wonders, fiddling with the hem.

"It's mine," I say. The physicians gave me the option of dressing Charisse in a revealing hospital gown or one of my shirts; the decision seemed simple. She doesn't object to being in my arms and rests her head on my chest.

I pull the seat belt over Charisse in my black 2015 Chevrolet Camaro and try to fix it so it isn't choking her. "This is a copy of all of your information," I tell her as I hand her the stack of documents. She is completely focused on it for the entire twenty-minute vehicle ride.

"So you're saying I have a big brother?"

"Yes."

"Who-Who is he?" she asks, her voice stuttering as if she hadn't spoken in a while.

"That's Brad; he was in the room earlier."

"Does he have a rank in the pack?" she wonders, knowing that only someone of high rank would enter Alpha's mate's room.

"He's both my Beta and my best friend."

"We're right here," I say as I enter my driveway. I don't spend time opening the door for Charisse and carrying her bridal gown again.

She exhales, finally feeling the sparks when the numbing drug wears off. "Do you mind sharing a room with me?" Or do you prefer to remain on your own?" I request that the front door be opened.

My house isn't a mansion, but it's also not a little dwelling. It contains six bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a pool in the backyard. "I get to stay in a room?" she asks, her eyes are bright.

"Of course, where else would you sleep?" says the narrator.

"Alpha, l-let me stay in the attic if I were g-good." They did not force her to stay in the attic. She speaks to her old pack as if she were merely an object or a pet. That means there could have been a worse place for my friend to live.

"So, is it my room or a different room?"

"It doesn't matter," she says quietly, her hands on her lap. It's my room.

I'm relieved I'll be sharing a room with my flatmate. Sharing a bed is unlikely to happen nowadays, but it is understandable. My wolf and I are both enraged that one of our pack members tried to take advantage of her, and we wish he could have died more terribly.

A whimper jolts me out of my reverie. She has curled herself into a ball and is hiding her head. What occurred?

'You were growling,' sneers my wolf.

Charisse's POV

I brace myself, expecting someone to whack me; a growl always meant I was about to get smacked. 'Mate won't hurt us,' my wolf promises.

I'm not at all at ease. Xavier Ryan is known to be harsh and violent, which makes me very nervous.

It's a lot to take in, especially since I've finally discovered who I am and have a brother. Alpha James claimed that my family sold me to him as a pack enslaved person.

My recollection becomes blank when I try to recall anything before age nine. There are also some memory gaps between the ages of ten and however old I am today. 'Seventeen,' says my wolf. When she says that, I almost smile; I've never known my age or anything other than my name.

"Are you all right, baby?" I apologize for growling." Xavier expresses regret. When someone else speaks it, the word sorry seems strange.

"I'm perfectly fine," I say. He sits on his bed beside me, his hand on my waist.

"Are you hungry?" That was the first time anyone had ever asked me that question. 'Make me food' or 'I bet you're hungry' has always been the response.

I shake my head and gently decline him. "Sandwich or pasta?" he inquires.

"I'm not in the mood for h-hungry."

He suggests, "I could make you a turkey sandwich." Is it possible that I'm talking out loud or that I'm not opening my mouth?

"I'm not hungry," I repeat, slowing my speech so I don't stutter.

Xavier furrows his brows and examines my petite frame. He inquires, "When was the last time you ate?"

"Summertime," I mumble about not knowing what month it is. I haven't gotten any food or drink since the summer; it's now autumn.

I can tell Xavier is clenching his fist to avoid breaking things. He presses me on him and inhales my scent deeply.

I try not to move because I'm frightened of what he'll do to me if I do. Hitting, slapping, or perhaps worse.

'Mate won't do that,' says my wolf.

'How did you find out?' I inquire of her. She is the only one with whom I can open up.

His grip on me is tightening as he shakes with wrath. They would have bruised significantly more without the brace around my ribs. I try to get closer to his chest while avoiding his arms.

"X-Xavier, you're hurting me." I let out a breath. I press my face against his hard chest when I feel his claws elongate.

As I repeat my words one more time, my breathing becomes labored. "Xavier, please let me go." This time he hears me.

The pressure is immediately relieved from my torso, and I stare up at Xavier. "Oh, goddess!" I'm genuinely sorry, darling."

"Does it hurt?" he inquires, clearly concerned.

For what seems like the hundredth time today, I shake my head.

"I'm so sorry," he says again, "I swear I didn't mean to hurt you." I move out of his lap and take a seat across from him.

"You have a nice soft bed." I'm talking about feeling the cotton cloth. Alpha James' bed isn't this comfortable; I never got to sleep on it, but I did touch it while cleaning his mansion.

Xavier says, "I'm glad you like it."

"Why don't you shower, and I'll make us some food?" he suggests. He turns around and gets some bags to cover my cast with.

It doesn't take me long to put them on. Another anecdote is figuring out how to operate his nice shower with one hand and one foot. (She has a shattered wrist, a fractured left leg, and a broken ankle.)