The hidden heir of the Alpha

Aria's POV Turning eighteen signified a lot for different people, but for me, it was the beginning of a nightmare. My father did the inconceivable, and now I was staring at a house I never knew I would ever walk through its gates. "This should make us square," my father muttered under his breath. No explanations, no guilt, no goodbye. That was when it clicked as he walked away. I had just been sold to clear his gambling debts, the one thing he refused to talk about no matter how much I pressed on it. The guards didn’t waste time. They seized me like a piece of cargo—impersonal and rough—as they dragged me across unfamiliar ground, the estate looming in the distance like some cursed fairytale castle. I was dumped into the servants ' quarters like forgotten luggage and handed strict, brutal rules: obey orders, stay silent, and for the love of the gods, don’t make mistakes. And I didn’t. I never saw the Alpha—not really. I only heard whispers about him. Darius Blackthorn, they said. A name spoken like a warning. Part myth, part monster. A man with sharp green eyes and a colder heart. For a while, I thought I could stay invisible. If I just worked hard enough, stayed quiet long enough, maybe they’d forget I was there. Maybe I could disappear in plain sight. I was wrong. It happened late one night. The rest of the servants had long gone to bed. I was alone in the grand hall scrubbing the marble floor, trying to erase stains that weren’t even mine when it hit me—that strange pull. It was warm, electric and felt like the air itself changed texture. I didn’t understand what it was. Not until I felt the presence behind me. A hand grabbed my waist and yanked me to my feet. I turned—and there he was. Darius Blackthorn. I’d seen his portrait a hundred times. But nothing prepared me for the real thing. He was taller than I expected, sharper and even colder. His presence was suffocating. Like being trapped under water, unable to breathe. His eyes locked onto mine, and something inside me jolted. Snapped into place like a chain pulled taut. My breath caught. The bond—fated mates. I saw it in the flicker of recognition across his face. He felt it too. But then his expression hardened. “You’re the one they sent me?” he asked, his voice flat, almost disgusted, like I was a broken offering. Then he turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing like a verdict. A couple of days later, I was in my room late in the night, when a strange feeling surged through me. I wasn't sure of what it was….. Alpha's rut perhaps. It's the only thing I could think of. Since the first night I 'd encountered Alpha Diarus and experienced the mate pull which he'd instantly rejected, I hadn't completely been myself. Although I never got to see him again after that night, it was hard to resist the feeling of being watched. As the strange feeling intensified, I felt the urge to leave my room but it was past curfew time already. While I stood contemplating on whether to leave the room or not, the door to my room suddenly burst open. Someone had broken in. Just as I turned in fright to see who it was, I gasped in fear. The door slammed behind him with a force that stole the air from the room. Darius Blackthorn stood there like a shadow come to life—green eyes glittering with something dark, lips curling into a smirk that promised nothing good. I backed away instinctively, my breath catching, but it was useless. He was already on me. His hands were cold, rough, certain. My protests died in my throat as the bond pulled tight like a chain, rendering me motionless beneath the weight of him. He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just took—stripping me bare with a hunger that felt more like punishment than passion. Every touch branded me. The rhythm of his body against mine was hard and fast, driven by instinct, not intimacy. I lay beneath him, trembling, caught in a storm I couldn’t fight—even as something inside me screamed that this wasn’t what it was meant to be. And then, it was over. He pulled away without a word, without a glance, adjusting his clothes, like nothing had happened. The door creaked open. Cold air flooded in. And then he was gone. I stared at the ceiling, limbs heavy, body sore, heart hollow, the silence deafening. To him, I wasn’t a mate. I was just something to use—something he owned. Just when I thought it was over, I fell really ill. Hence, my first encounter with the healer. Dairus had a cold expression on his face. He was more furious than excited when the healer broke the news that I'd taken in. "Get rid of it," he ordered the healer in anger, his voice sending chills down my spine. In a few hours time I was in agonising pain, bleeding profusely. The healer had carried out Darius orders, squeezing the very essence of life out of me. I wished it all ended there. But it didn't. Dairus kept coming back. And in no time, he became my worst nightmare, thrusting himself in me like I was an object meant for the satisfaction of his untamed hunger and wild desires. Then came the second pregnancy which ended in the same fate as the first. Things continued that way such that in a space of one year I'd gone through three abortions already. Each time, it ends the same way, in blood and in emptiness and those cold, unfeeling eyes watching me like I’d failed some test I never agreed to take. By the fourth time… I broke. But this time, I felt something stir inside me. Maybe it was the heartbeat fluttering beneath my skin, or the last stubborn piece of my soul, but I knew I couldn’t lose this child. So I ran to the healer to seek help.