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Claimed By Her Possessive Alphas

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  • 9.1
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“Let me go,” I moaned. “Your father sold you to us, you are now ours Hazel” “I’m a human! You can’t just buy me!” I scream. “You are ours... If we want to lock you up, we will. If we want to punish you for being a brat, we will. If we want to f*ck you… we will. If we want to kill you...we will, and there is nothing you can do about it. Deal with it love, or you might find yourself in worse hell than this.” He whispered carassing the sensitive parts of my ears ,sending shivers down my spine. ••••• After her mother died of cancer , Hazel had no option but to grow a thick skin and protect herself as an omega. Her father was completely useless because he only cares about drinking and gambling. Everything Hazel worked hard to achieve crashed when she got kidnapped as a collateral by the 4 most ruthless mafia Alphas of Blackwood Pack because her father couldn’t pay his debt.

Chapter 1

Chapter One 

Hazel’s POV 

The moment I saw the doctor, something inside me twisted. 

His eyes, usually so steady and reassuring, darted away from mine, and his mouth was set in a line too straight to mean anything good. It felt like the air had been s*ck*d out of the room. I knew then, something was terribly wrong.

"My mom," I started, my voice barely a whisper. "How is she?"

The doctor sighed, his face a mask of sorrow. "Hazel, please sit down." But I couldn't. My legs carried me past him, straight to my mother's bedside. She looked so frail, so unlike the vibrant woman who had raised me.

Several  tubes and wires were wrapped around my mothers lean body. I'm always with her. I only leave her side when I go out to find a way to raise more money for her chemotherapy treatments.

"What's wrong with her?" I demanded more from the universe than anyone in particular.

The doctor took a deep breath. "Hazel, I'm so sorry. Your mother's cancer has progressed faster than we anticipated. We've done everything we can, but..."

But what? My mind screamed for him to finish, even as I feared the end of his sentence.

"She passed away a few minutes ago."

No. This couldn't be happening. Not my mom. She was supposed to beat this. We were supposed to have more time. I fell to my knees, the sobs tearing through me with the force of a hurricane. 

"Mom, please," I begged, clutching her hand, cold and lifeless in mine. "You can't leave me. Please come back."

The nurses tried to console me, their words a blur of sympathy and sorrow. But nothing they said could reach me. I was lost in a sea of grief, drowning in the reality that my mother was gone.

And then he showed up. My father, if you could even call him that. Staggering into the room, reeking of alcohol and bad decisions. I stared at him, the rage building inside me like a fire.

"You," I hissed, my voice laced with all the hurt and anger I felt.

 "You did nothing! You could have helped her, but you didn't. You never do!"

He looked at me, his eyes clouded with drink, unfazed by my words. "What does it matter? She was going to die anyway. Cancer has no cure."

That was it. The final straw. The room spun as the full weight of my grief, my anger, and my utter despair crashed into me. I stood, my body trembling with emotion.

"I hate you so much!" The words ripped from me, raw and filled with every ounce of pain I felt.

 "I hate you!"

After my mother's funeral, the world seemed to stand still. I couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't even muster the energy to speak. The grief was a heavy cloak, smothering me day and night.

 I cried until my tears ran dry, and then I cried some more. My heart was shattered, and my spirit, the omega spirit that had always been so resilient, began to wither and fade. 

The vibrant energy that had once filled me was now a distant memory, replaced by an aching emptiness.

As the days turned into weeks, my body and omega spirit  grew weaker. I could feel the life draining out of me and my father whom I rarely see didn’t care about me.

 It was then I realized I had to do something, anything, to pull myself out of this mess. I couldn't let my mother's memory be tarnished by my surrender to despair. She had always been a fighter, and I knew I had to fight too, not just for her, but for myself.

Determined to stand on my own feet, I started looking for a job. But it wasn't easy. 

My father's reputation as a drunkard and gambler had cast a long shadow over our family. Every door seemed to slam shut the moment my surname was mentioned, it looks like my father collects loans from everyone in this Pack.  

“No ,your father owes me”

“I don’t trust you , what if you turn out to be like your father ?” 

“What if you’re a drunkard like that useless father of yours “ 

The whispers and looks of disdain were like daggers, reminding me of the stain I couldn't wash off. Despite my best efforts, rejection followed rejection. 

The reality of Blackwood  Pack was harsh because everyone knows everything about everyone , a name could either open doors or seal them shut forever.

Just when I was on the verge of giving up, hope arrived in the most unexpected form. Eric, my on and off  boyfriend since high school , came to me with news that lit a spark in the darkness.

 "Hazel," he said, his eyes shining with excitement, "I found you a job. You can work as a cleaner at the boxing ring where I go to train, I spoke to the manger and he agreed to hire you if you can handle working there “ he said shrugging his shoulders 

I should be angry and not speak with Eric right now because he is consistent ,appears and disappears from my life whenever he wants and to make matters worse, he never wants to be intimate with me, we hardly kiss  but that’s not my problem. 

I need to survive before I start thinking of s*x and  kisses.  

The boxing ring. It was infamous, known for its rough crowd and even rougher fights and dirty deals. But at that moment, it could have been the most prestigious job in the world for all I cared about. 

"It's dangerous," I whispered, the reality of the situation settling in. Yet, the fear was overshadowed by my broken situation.

Eric nodded, understanding my concern. "I know, but you'll be safe. And it's a start, Hazel. It's a chance to get back on your feet."

A chance. That's all I needed. As I looked into Eric's hopeful eyes, something shifted within me. I felt a strength I hadn't known was there.

 "I'll do it," I said, my voice steady. 

"I will rather work my *ss off than go about gambling and collecting loans like my father." It was a vow, not just to Eric, but to myself and to the memory of my dead mother.

I kicked Tom between his legs with all the strength I could muster, and for a moment, he bent over in pain, giving me just enough time to break free completely. I didn’t look back as I dashed out of the gym and into the cool air of the evening. My heart was still racing, pounding against my ribs like it wanted to escape. I needed to get out, get away from Tom, from the gym, from everything.

I pushed through the door to the parking lot, my eyes searching wildly for an escape, for safety. But then, everything stopped. Right there, in front of my car, I saw something that froze me in my tracks.

Eric, my boyfriend—the person I trusted more than anyone—was wrapped up in a romantic embrace with Mark, the manager of the boxing center. They were kissing, lost in a moment that shattered everything I thought I knew. I stood there, unable to move, unable to think, my heart breaking in my chest.

A sob caught in my throat, and I coughed, the sound sharp in the quiet parking lot. At the noise, Eric turned and our eyes met. The look on his face changed in an instant, from contentment to shock to guilt. He quickly stepped back from Mark, his eyes wide as he stared at me.

I barely noticed Tom peeking around the corner of the building, his eyes calculating. Seeing that I wasn’t alone anymore, he turned and disappeared back into the shadows of the gym.

Eric walked toward me, his steps hesitant. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, just stood there shaking, tears streaming down my face. My whole body trembled with the raw emotions coursing through me—anger, betrayal, shock.

He reached out, placing his hands gently on my shoulders. I wanted to shrug him off, to scream at him, but I was too overwhelmed, too hurt.

“Hazel, it’s not what you think, sweetheart,” Eric said softly, his voice filled with a pleading tone. “This means nothing, and you know I love you.”

But his words, meant to comfort, only added weight to the confusion and hurt swirling inside me. I stared at him, my eyes blurred with tears, my heart aching as I tried to make sense of everything that had just happened. 

Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

Hazel’s POV 

In the sweaty, run-down gym of the local boxing center, the air buzzed with loud shouts and the smack of boxing gloves against punching bags. The place smelled of sweat and old dreams. I mopped the floor, feeling the stickiness of the place cling to my skin.

“Can’t believe this is what two bucks an hour gets me,” I grumbled to myself, attacking a stubborn stain with my mop. It barely budged. I straightened up, pushing a loose strand of hair out of my face with the back of my sweaty hand. “If only they kept things a bit tidier,” I sighed to the empty room, my voice bouncing off the walls and filling the space with my frustration.

My back was aching, a sharp reminder of the hours I’d been working without a break. As I leaned against my mop for support, a bead of sweat rolled down my temple.

Suddenly, I felt it—an unwelcome, firm grip encircling my waist. I stiffened, my breath catching in my throat as I instantly recognized the f


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