Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 690

Chapter 37 : From the Same Pack

The little girl walked through the front yard and down the front path, completely unafraid of the dead bodies and hungry crows.

Mila and I followed closely.

I could see the little girl's eyes glazed over, walking down the path like a little zombie. She was zoned out, probably entirely unaware of her surroundings.

We followed young Mila into the town at the base of the hill. To our right, the forest still burned, but the blaze was farther away, like it had been burning for days and had charred everything close to the town.

Young Mila continued to walk right through the streets.

Bodies covered the sidewalks, draped over porches and stairs, houses were all burned and broken down.

The only sound was of creaking wood and cawing crows that feasted on the bodies.

From the smell, I knew they'd been dead for several days. I noticed many of them had been moved around and suspected that they'd been robbed and searched, just like the bodies at the mansion.

Had it been one eye and tattoo face that did this? It was a lot of mayhem for just two shifters.

Unless… they'd only come after the destruction to search for the artifact. Someone else had done the hard work for them. But if it wasn't for the artifact, why had this pack been destroyed?

From their conversation, they revealed that their alpha had Mila's mother and was torturing her, so they must have been involved in the attack.

For days, they'd searched this dead, destroyed village while Mila's mother was tortured.

Young Mila had been in the basement that whole time.

She still moved through the streets like she was only aware of her own feet. I didn't think she looked around once at any of the bodies.

I couldn't blame her, after what she'd been through and what she'd seen. But Mila was a survivor, even as a child, and she wouldn't curl in a ball in the basement and give up.

Her hair had changed. It no longer bounced around in carefree curls. A magical disguise her mother had used to help hide her. I wondered if Jessica had meant for Mila to be left alone like this…

Beside me, Mila's hands clenched into fists and she snarled under her breath.

I glanced over and saw the hatred and anger oozing from her eyes. They were so bright, filled with fire, and I worried she'd light the town on fire again with one look.

Numbly, young Mila walked to the center of town. She didn't appear afraid or concerned that the monsters would come back and hurt her. If anything, she seemed to be on a mission. Like she was looking for something.

Young Mila paused and sniffed.

I caught the scent of bread and beside me, Mila sniffed the air, too.

Young Mila ran into the closest, burnt out house. Quickly, we followed after her.

There was a rickety table in the center of what used to be a kitchen. Young Mila hopped up on a wobbly chair and grabbed the loaf of bread. Ravenous, she devoured it in several large bites.


My stomach clenched.

Alone in a basement for days, the poor child must have been starving!

Young Mila hopped off the chair and found a broken glass pitcher with water in it. She grabbed the pitcher and drank deeply, the broken glass cutting her mouth. Blood stained the water but she didn't seem to care.

Suddenly, she paused and turned around slowly.

I heard a small shuffling in the corner of the room.

Young Mila must have heard it too. She set the pitcher down and dove under the rickety table, hiding herself in the shadows.

From the corner of the kitchen, another young girl appeared. She was similar in age to Mila, perhaps a year or two older.

Her face was streaked with tears and she dragged something behind her.

My eyes widened when I saw she was holding an arm. The arm belonged to a young boy behind her, around ten or so. He was passed out, possibly dead.

The other young girl sobbed, trembling. She threw herself at young Mila's feet and grabbed her hand.

“Please, p-please, help…" she begged, despite being slightly older.

Young Mila looked around the girl and seemed to notice the older boy for the first time. A crease formed on her brow.

I glanced at adult Mila. She had her hand over her mouth, small gasps coming from her lips.

“Please… h-help my b-brother," the other girls said, pointing to the unconscious boy. She sobbed again and pressed her forehead to young Mila's hand.

Young Mila shook her head. “I… I can't…"

The other girl wailed and shook her head.

“You have to! You ate our food, drank our water. You… you have to help us! I have more food, more water. It is all yours if you save my brother… please!" she begged.

Tears streamed down her face and she curled up in a ball, hugging herself and rocking herself.

I frowned. This seemed familiar to me. Had I seen those children before? No, I didn't think I had. But something about this was like a story I'd heard once, or something someone told me…

Young Mila's eyes shifted to the counter where there was another loaf of bread and a canteen filled with water. Her eyes drifted to the boy and girl in the corner.

I could see in her eyes that she wanted to help, and not just because of the food.

Young Mila positioned herself on her knees and pressed her palms together in the prayer position.

“Goddess above, please hear my prayer. Your light shall guide us and your mercy shall be praised…"

She spoke incredibly well for a child so young. Her mother's lessons had paid off!

On her knees, Mila crawled closer to the boy. She closed her eyes and held her arms over him.

“Amina hasteth corro sinat, amina hasteth corro sinat," she chanted the same four words again and again, her hands hovering over the boy.

The other young girl had her head bowed over her brother, crying and clinging to him. It was hard to tell whether or not she knew what young Mila was doing or saying, but in her grief, I doubted it.

“Oof…"

The boy groaned and winced. A shudder ran through him and he opened his eyes. Slowly, his hand went to the back of his sister's head.

The girl looked up and gasped. She threw herself into her brother's arms and hugged him fiercely.

I stared at the boy's eyes. They were all too familiar and now I knew why this felt like a story I'd heard. It was a story I'd heard! But not from Mila.

Young Mila took advantage of the other children's distraction. She grabbed the bread and the canteen and ran from the house.

“Wait," adult Mila gasped. She ran after her younger self.

I took one final look at the brother and sister and I chased after Mila.

Young Mila was running toward the woods and the fire. Adult Mila stopped at the edge of the road, frowning. Lost in her thoughts, she didn't even look at me when I came to her side.

Without a word, Mila ran toward the blazing fire after young Mila. The little girl was gone, like she'd been swallowed up by the flames and smoke.

The closer we got to the blaze, the warmer it felt. Sweat broke out on my brow and I realized that this fire could hurt us. If we got too close, it would pull us into Mila's memories and we'd be lost forever.

“Where are you!?" Mila cried. “Come back!"

She ran closer to the flames.

Frantically, she looked around every burnt tree and charred bush.
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