Rejected by Blood, Chosen by the Alpha

Chapter 2: The Cold Claim

I felt every inch of the cold stone beneath my feet, the chill creeping up my legs like the hands of ghosts pulling me toward the inevitable. Alpha Draven stood before me, his towering figure casting a long shadow across the courtyard. His eyes—those icy, unreadable eyes—swept over me like a predator sizing up its prey. The air was thick and heavy with the weight of my impending fate. I could hear the murmurs of the pack behind me, their eyes locked on the scene unfolding before them.

“Liana Silverclaw,” Draven's voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Step forward.”

I didn’t want to move. I wanted to stay right where I was—hidden in the shadows, forgotten. But the pressure on my chest was too much. My legs felt like stone, but somehow, I forced myself to take a step. My heart was a wild, frantic beat in my chest, almost as if it was trying to escape. I forced my gaze upward, meeting his cold eyes, and at that moment, I realized he wasn’t looking at me like a human being. He saw me like I was nothing. A tool, an object, something to be used.

"You will stand by me, in my pack, as my mate."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "Mate?" I repeated, the word foreign on my tongue. I barely had the strength to look up at him. Was this some sort of cruel joke?

“You are mine,” he said, his voice like ice, with no room for argument. His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist with surprising force. His grip was tight, commanding. "From this moment on, you belong to me. The pack knows it, and so do you."

My pulse raced, and I jerked away from his grip. “I don’t belong to anyone. Least of all to you.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, too defiant for my own good. I wasn’t supposed to challenge him. The Alpha. His reputation was enough to freeze the hearts of even the bravest wolves.

His gaze darkened. A flash of something—danger?—appeared in his eyes before he masked it again with that cold, indifferent stare. "You should watch your tongue, Liana. The Bloodmoon Pack does not tolerate defiance." His words were a warning, but something flickered behind them. Was it a challenge? Did he care?

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I’m not a warrior. I’m not strong. You know this.”

Draven’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk. “I know,” he said, his voice low, almost mocking. "But you’re here, aren’t you? Your blood has been spilled. You are now bound to me."

His words echoed in my ears as I tried to process the reality of what was happening. This wasn’t just a political move; it was a statement. I was nothing in this world, but now, in front of all these wolves, I was to be his. The very thought twisted my stomach.

But there was something else there, something I couldn’t explain. When his fingers brushed against my arm again, that searing heat flared up in my skin—something deep inside me stirred, a spark that I couldn’t ignore. My heart thudded erratically in my chest. My wolf had always been dormant, silent, never answering my calls. Yet, in his presence, something stirred, a whisper deep within my soul. A force I couldn’t understand.

Before I could make sense of it, Draven turned, pulling me toward him with a strength that had my heart racing. “Come,” he commanded his voice a low rumble in my ear.

I stumbled forward, my mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. “I’m not what you need,” I muttered, barely audible.

He didn’t answer, but the look he gave me was cold, and calculating. “We’ll see about that.”

Just as we reached the stone steps leading into the main hall, the sound of a horse’s hooves echoed from the entrance to the courtyard. I turned my head instinctively. Who would be coming now? The pack had gathered, and no one else was supposed to approach during this moment.

The figure emerged from the shadows, a tall, cloaked figure riding a black stallion. The rider’s presence was commanding, drawing the attention of everyone in the courtyard. The pack fell silent, their eyes snapping toward the newcomer.

I tried to make out the figure’s face, but the hood obscured everything except the glint of two glowing eyes. There was something familiar about them—something... menacing.

Draven tensed beside me, his entire body going rigid as the rider dismounted. The cloaked figure pushed back their hood, revealing the face of a man I had never seen before but who radiated power and malice. His dark eyes locked onto Draven with an intensity that seemed to challenge the very air between them.

“You dare claim a weak wolf?” the man’s voice was deep, mocking, and full of venom.

The words froze the blood in my veins. The pack members stirred, muttering among themselves. Who was this man? Why was he addressing Draven like that? And more importantly, why did he call me weak?

Draven’s jaw clenched, his expression hardening as he stepped forward, his body coiled like a spring, ready to snap at any moment. “You’ve come to question me, Zane?” His voice was a low growl, but I could hear the undercurrent of something else—resentment, anger.

The man—Zane—smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “I came to remind you of your place, Draven. The Bloodmoon Pack will fall if you continue on this path.”

My heart pounded harder, and I instinctively stepped back, confusion and fear swirling inside me. This was not just about me. This was about a power struggle, something deep and dangerous.

“What is he talking about?” I whispered to Draven, but he didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were locked on Zane, a silent war raging between them.

“I’m not interested in your games, Zane,” Draven said coldly, though I could hear the hint of something more—something personal between them.

Zane stepped closer, his dark eyes gleaming with something dark and dangerous. “No. You never were. But you will listen to me because I’m about to change everything.” He turned his gaze to me, and his eyes seemed to pierce through me, seeing something I didn’t understand. “You, little wolf, have no idea what you’ve just walked into.”

I felt my breath catch in my throat. What was happening? Why was he looking at me like that?

And then, just as quickly as the moment had begun, Zane turned, walking away with an air of finality, leaving the courtyard heavy with unanswered questions.

Draven’s grip on my arm tightened, pulling me closer to him, and I had no choice but to follow as we made our way into the hall. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. That everything had shifted.

What was Zane’s warning? What was it about me that was so dangerous?

The questions swirled, but I didn’t have the answers. Not yet. But I would. I had to.

“Don’t listen to him,” Draven’s voice came, low and sharp, as if sensing my unease. But his words did nothing to calm the storm rising inside me.

And as we entered the hall, I knew—this was only the beginning.

"You don't know what you've gotten yourself into, Liana," Draven's voice echoed behind me, heavy with an unspoken threat.

But before I could respond, I heard Zane’s voice again, haunting, lingering in the air.

"You’ll regret this, Draven. She will be the end of you.”