THE ALPHA’S HUMAN LUNA

CHAPTER 5 - THE ALPHA’S RULE

(Evelyn’s POV)

The Keep’s doors slammed shut behind us with a boom that echoed through my bones. Ronan’s hand was still wrapped around my arm, unyielding, dragging me down the torch-lit hall like I weighed nothing more than a feather.

My boots scraped against the polished stone, the poker long forgotten in the forest, my pride splintered with every step.

“Let go!”

I hissed, twisting hard. His grip didn’t even budge. His golden eyes flicked down at me, a slow, deliberate warning.

“Do you really want me to?” His voice was quiet, but the kind of quiet that dared me to push him further.

I shut my mouth before I could make a mistake, though my chest burned with the words I wanted to spit at him.

When he finally stopped, it was in a room I hadn’t seen before. Smaller than the hall, but no less imposing. Bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound tomes.

A massive desk dominated the center, scattered with maps and papers, and the faint scent of smoke and pine clung to the air.

His office.

He shoved the door shut with his foot, then released me at last.

I stumbled back, rubbing my arm, glaring at him. “Do you always manhandle your houseguests?”

His head tilted, and for the first time, something flickered across his face that wasn’t just fury.

Amusement.

Barely there, but enough.

“You think you’re a guest?” he said.

My laugh came out sharp, brittle. “Right. Prisoner, then. Kidnap victim. Do you want me to pick one? We can workshop the phrasing.”

The faint curve at his mouth disappeared. He closed the distance between us in two strides, and suddenly I was backed against his desk, the wood pressing into my hips.

“You almost died tonight,” he growled. “Do you understand that? If I hadn’t followed you, that rogue would’ve torn you apart before you took your next breath.”

“Maybe I’d have preferred that.” The words shot out before I could stop them, raw and reckless.

His eyes blazed. His hand slammed down on the desk beside me, rattling the maps. I flinched but forced myself to hold his gaze.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, low and certain.

The worst part? I didn’t know if he was right.

Silence stretched between us, heavy as the fortress walls.

My pulse thundered in my ears, the air thick with his scent—earth, smoke, danger. Every inch of me screamed to shove him away, but the magnetic pull between us only grew stronger.

I hated it.

Finally, he stepped back, reclaiming the space. My lungs rushed to fill with air.

“You’ll follow my rules,” he said. His tone left no room for debate.

“No leaving your chambers at night. No wandering beyond the walls. No running.” His gaze pinned me.

“Ever.”

I barked out a laugh, brittle and sharp. “And if I break your rules again? What then? Are you going to chain me to the bedpost?”

His silence was answer enough.

I swallowed hard.

He moved to the shelves, pulling down a decanter of amber liquid and pouring it into a glass. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but when he turned back, his gaze was as hard as stone.

“You’re not a prisoner, Evelyn,” he said.

I snorted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’re my mate.”

The word hung in the air like a thunderclap. My heart stuttered in my chest.

“I’m not—” My voice cracked. “I’m not yours. I don’t even know what that means.”

“It means you’re bound to me. Fate chose you. The bond doesn’t care if you understand it—or if you want it.”

I shook my head, backing away until my shoulders hit the bookshelf. “No. No, I don’t believe in that soulmate crap.”

“Believe it,” he said. “Because your life depends on it.”

His words settled in me like ice.

I wanted to argue, to laugh in his face, to tell him fate had made a mistake. But deep inside, where my pulse quickened and my skin tingled every time his eyes locked on me, I knew something was happening. Something I couldn’t explain.

And that terrified me more than any rogue wolf ever could.

I dragged my gaze from him, fighting for composure. “So what happens now? You lock me in a tower until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in?”

The faintest shadow of a smirk curved his lips. “If you had Stockholm Syndrome, you wouldn’t be this mouthy.”

Heat rushed to my face. I hated him. I hated that smirk. I hated that some traitorous part of me wanted to laugh.

But I didn’t.

Instead, I crossed my arms, narrowing my eyes. “You think you own me because of some bond? Newsflash, Alpha: I don’t play well with collars.”

For the first time, his expression shifted into something unreadable—part warning, part…admiration? He downed the rest of his drink, set the glass aside, and moved past me to the door.

“This isn’t a collar,” he said without turning. “It’s protection. And one day, you’ll thank me for it.”

The door opened. Two guards waited outside. Scar and Tattoo. His silent shadows.

“Escort her back,” Ronan ordered. His voice was steel again, no trace of softness.

I wanted to scream. To throw something at him. To demand answers. But the words stuck in my throat.

As the guards led me back to my chamber, I replayed everything in my head: his fury, his rules, his claim. Mate.

The word wouldn’t leave me.

When the guards shoved me inside and locked the door, I pressed my back against it, my chest heaving.

I was shaking again, but not just from fear.

I went to the window, staring out at the endless trees, the fortress walls glowing with torchlight. Somewhere out there, freedom waited. Somewhere out there, the life I’d had was slipping further and further away.

A howl split the night. Not Ronan’s—it was deeper, rawer, filled with rage.

Another answered. And another.

The sound rose into a chorus that chilled my blood.

I gripped the window frame, my breath catching.

They weren’t Ronan’s wolves.

They were outside the walls.

Coming closer.