Wanted by the Ruthless Alpha

CHAPTER FOUR

Lana's POV

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking away the sleep as sunlight streamed through the car window. My neck ached from the uncomfortable way I slept throughout the ride.

I saw large black gates swinging open as the driver pressed a button on a small remote that was in the car. There was a wolf design engraved into the center of the gates, giving the entrance a mysterious presence.

As the Prado rolled in, I felt like I had stepped into another world. The driveway stretched ahead like something out of a movie. Art sculptures designed the lawn grass perfectly, everything looked like it was right out of a fairytale.

And then I saw the mansion.

Massive, and elegant.

The car stopped in front of the main entrance, and the driver quickly stepped out to open the door for me. I climbed out, and adjusted my polo.

An older woman stood on the steps like she was waiting for someone, her silver-gray hair pulled back into a tight bun. She wore a navy-blue dress with a neat white apron, and there was a warm aura about her. Very comfortable and compelling.

“Good morning,” she said calmly.

“You must be Lana, Dorathy's new nanny. I’m Alexa. Welcome to the Red Creek pack.”

“Hi,” I replied, offering a polite smile.

“It's really beautiful here.”

A beautiful place, and a beautiful name.

She gave a slight nod. “Follow me, dear. Let’s get you settled in your room.”

We walked through the grand wooden doors into a foyer that could easily be used as a ballroom. Polished marble floors reflected the morning light, and a beautiful gold chandelier sparkled above us. Wolf-themed sculptures lined the walls.

Alexa led me up a curved staircase, down the hallway, we stopped in front of the room at the end of the hallway.

“This is your room,” she said, opening the door.

I stepped in and paused immediately.

My suitcases were already at the edge of the room.

I blinked. “Wow,” I said under my breath.

I walked further into the room and glanced around, it looked very comfortable. Cream-colored walls, a queen-sized bed with blue linen, a writing desk and a chair by the window, and warm lighting from the sun which came in through the window. The room smelled like strawberries and coconuts.

“You should freshen up and settle in, your uniform is on the bed,” Alexa said from the doorway.

“Thank you. I appreciate it,” I said softly.

She nodded once and closed the door behind her.

For a few seconds, I just stood there, taking it all in.

Was this real?

Less than 48 hours ago, I had no job, my rent was due, and no clue where my life was heading. Now I feel like my world just turned a hundred and eighty degrees into a different direction.

I let out a breath, walked to the bed, and gently touched the soft duvet. It felt so smooth and comfortable between my fingers, I can't wait to sleep on this. There was a blue tunic with a white buttoned up shirt on the bed.

After a quick shower and a few minutes to arrange my things, I heard a knock on my door. There was a lady dressed in a blue tunic, her hair was plaited into two parts.

She had a tight smile on her face with a very calm demeanor, "Alpha Ronan is waiting for you in his office. Please come with me." She gestured.

"Are you okay?" I raised a brow at her.

"Yes." She responded.

I shut the door behind me as I followed her down the hall, we passed people who were cleaning the house, and it was a bit strange that she didn't talk to anybody, not even a slight wave. In fact everybody faced their work, we walked towards a secluded area.

She suddenly came to a halt, "There's a brown door at the end of the hallway. Knock twice, don't knock more than twice, and wait until you hear a response before you enter." Then she turned and left.

What's with the strict rules?

My heart pounded frantically as I walked to the door, then I knocked twice, and held my breath.

Thirty seconds.

One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my blue tunic, as I took in deep breaths. There was no reply. I was about to knock again when I heard come in. I pushed the large oak doors, and stepped in.

The office looked more like a private study, lined with towering bookshelves. A leather chair sat behind the mahogany desk. The chair was faced towards the large window which casted warm reflections across the polished wooden floor, giving the room a sense of serenity.

"You're late." The person sitting turned to face me.

Ronan Lancaster.

"I'm sorry, but maybe if you responded on time, I wouldn't have been five minutes late." I smiled tightly.

"How dare you talk back to me?" He raged.

In a second, he had his hand on my neck, holding me up in the air with my legs dangled beneath me. I gasped as he hit my back on the wall. His dark eyes were glowing, and it looked like little flames dancing in them. I tried to use my fingers to scratch his hand off, but he kept tightening his hold.

My eyes widened in fear, my lungs burned as the air thinned, everything seemed to fade except the sound of my low heartbeat.

Was this how I was going to die?

As my vision blurred, he finally loosened his grip, his hand slipping away from my neck. I dropped to my knees with my head hung low. I coughed, and struggled to catch my breath.

Then he knelt to my eye level, with an unreadable expression, and held out a black folder.

"I suggest you never talk back to me. This shouldn't repeat itself," he said slowly.

"Y… yes. Yes sir." I stammered as I shifted backwards, my back was already on the wall, so I couldn't move.

"You will sign this now. You belong to me, law and choice." He held out a feather and the contract.

"I don't want to work here anymore, I quit." I said slowly.

"That would be unnecessary seeing that you don't have a choice. Once you're in, there's no way out. Now sign it before I make you do it." He shoved the paper at me. I collected it, and glanced through the contract. My name was written in bold letters, and his signature was in red ink.

He bent down, and held out my left palm. Then he forcefully cut it open, and allowed my blood to drip into a small golden cup that he brought from his drawer.

I hissed in pain as my blood dripped.

Then he dipped the feather-pen into my blood, and handed it to me.

Who the heck are these people? Are they even sane?

Does this mean he signed the contract with his blood too?

My fingers trembled as I reached for the pen and contract. Everything within me screamed to run, but where? The memory of his hand on my throat still lingered.

I hesitated, with my pen hovering above the page, then with a final stroke, it was done. After some seconds, I felt a sharp pull tugged deep in my chest, as if invisible strings had latched onto my soul. My breath caught in my throat, it wasn't pain, but it wasn't comfort either. It felt like a connection of some sort.

My soul whispered a quiet plea, "Please… let me survive this."