Rescuing my Human Lover: She is a Fighter

Chapter Three

LYRA

I stood frozen in place as Alpha Lucian casually handed me over like a damaged piece of furniture. My fate was decided in seconds and traded between Alphas without my consent or consideration. The room spun around me as I stared at the floor, not daring to look up at either wolf.

Alpha Kael remained silent for a long moment. I did not dare breathe.

“I accept your… generous offer.” Alpha Kael’s deep voice was equally devoid of emotion. “She will serve in the Silverfang Pack from now on.”

“Excellent.” Alpha Lucian snapped his fingers. “Take her to prepare herself properly for her new master.”

Two female servants appeared at my sides, gripping my arms firmly as they led me away from the banquet hall. The chatter resumed behind us, my fate already forgotten by the partygoers. I was merely a momentary disruption to their festivities.

The servants guided me to a small washroom and shoved me inside.

“Clean yourself thoroughly,” one ordered. “Alpha Kael will expect you to be presentable.”

“You have one hour,” the other added before they closed the door, leaving me alone.

My reflection in the small mirror was a stranger. A girl with wide, terrified eyes, a split lip, and a raw cut on her neck.

I filled the basin with water and began to scrub every inch of my skin until it turned pink and raw. My hands trembled so badly that I dropped the soap multiple times. Every werewolf I had ever known had hurt me in some way. Why would this one be any different?

But he gave you medicine, a small voice whispered in my head. He could have punished you for being in his room, but he did not.

I quieted that dangerous voice immediately. Hope was a luxury I could not afford. Whatever his reasons for helping me earlier, they would not matter now. I had humiliated him publicly. No werewolf would let that slide without retribution.

“This is no different than serving any other wolf,” I whispered to myself, trying to calm my racing heart. But the lie was glaring. This was different. This was leaving the only pack I had known for twelve years, brutal as they were, for an unknown pack with unknown cruelties.

The servants returned with a simple white dress. The fabric was cheap but clean, nothing like my usual threadbare garments.

“Put this on,” one said, tossing it at me.

I changed quickly, aware of their impatient stares. The dress was slightly too large, hanging off my thin frame, but it was the nicest thing I had worn in years. Another cruel irony—to be dressed nicely for what would likely be a painful night.

They escorted me through the corridors to Alpha Kael’s guest chambers. One opened the door and shoved me inside without a word. The lock clicked behind me as they left.

The room was sparsely furnished with a large bed dominating the space, its dark sheets perfectly made. A small table with a single chair sat in the corner. A narrow window high on the wall offered no chance of escape—even if I could reach it, I would not fit through.

My eyes darted around the room, searching for anything I could use to defend myself. There was little to work with, but a decorative ceramic vase sat on the bedside table. I grabbed it, testing its weight in my hands. Heavy enough to cause damage if I swung with enough force.

I positioned myself in the corner furthest from the door, clutching the vase with white knuckles. My heart pounded so hard I feared it might burst from my chest. I could run at him the moment he entered, try to strike him unconscious, and then… what? Where would I go? How far would I get before werewolves caught my scent?

It did not matter. I had to try something.

Minutes passed like hours. Every small noise from the hallway made me flinch. Finally, I heard footsteps approaching, steady and unhurried. They stopped outside the door and a key turned in the lock.

The door swung open, and Alpha Kael’s tall figure filled the doorway. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. He had changed out of his wine-stained suit into a simple black shirt and pants, but he looked no less intimidating.

Before he could speak, I lunged forward with a strangled cry, swinging the vase at his head with all my strength. My only chance was the element of surprise.

I never connected. His hand shot out with supernatural speed, catching my wrist in mid-swing. The vase flew from my grasp and shattered against the wall, sending ceramic shards scattering across the floor.

“No!” I screamed, twisting violently in his grip. I clawed at his face with my free hand, kicked at his shins, fought with every ounce of strength in my body. It was like attacking a mountain. He did not even flinch.

In one fluid motion, he twisted my arm behind my back and swept my legs out from under me. I found myself falling backward, expecting to hit the hard floor, but instead landed on the soft mattress of the bed. Before I could scramble away, he was on top of me, pinning my arms above my head with one hand, his body immobilizing mine.

“Stop fighting,” he commanded, his amber-gold eyes boring into mine.

I continued to struggle despite the futility, tears of frustration and fear streaming down my face. His body pressed against mine, and to my confusion, I felt a jolt of something besides fear—a strange warmth that spread through my abdomen. His scent enveloped me, not unpleasant like most werewolves, but clean and faintly woodsy.

“I am not going to hurt you,” he said, his voice quieter now. “If I release you, will you stop trying to attack me?”

I said nothing, refusing to believe him. Werewolves lied. Werewolves hurt. That was all I had ever known.

He sighed, and to my shock, he released my wrists and climbed off me, creating distance between us. He moved to the chair in the corner and sat down, watching me cautiously.

I scrambled into a sitting position, pressing my back against the headboard, ready to defend myself again though I had no weapon now. My wrists bore red marks from his grip, but he had not actually hurt me. He could have broken my bones with minimal effort, but he had only restrained me.

“I will not harm you,” he stated firmly, his amber-gold eyes serious. “You have my word.”