Bow to the Predator
1150 Words
Frost crept over the broken brass hinges of the ballroom doors.
The temperature in the room plummeted below freezing in a matter of seconds. Every breath I took plumed into a white cloud of mist.
Dacre stepped over the splintered oak. He didn't roar. He didn't unleash a magical Alpha Command to force people down. His mere presence was enough to choke the room. The sheer, terrifying weight of his aura pressed against my skin.
He walked slowly down the center aisle. His black leather dress shoes clicked against the marble floor. That was the only sound in the massive room.
The pack members parted for him instantly. They scrambled backward, tripping over their own feet just to get out of his way. Some averted their eyes, terrified that looking at him would trigger a violent challenge.
Vance swallowed hard. The color completely drained from his face. But he was the Alpha Heir. He was standing on a stage in his own territory. He had to defend his pride.
Vance stepped in front of me, shielding me from view. He forced his chest out and squared his shoulders.
"Alpha Dacre," Vance snapped. His voice shook, but he tried to hide it. "This is Crescent Pack business. Step back."
Dacre didn't even look at him.
He just kept walking. He reached the bottom of the stage steps. The five heavily armed enforcers who were supposed to arrest me stood directly in his path.
Dacre finally stopped. He looked at the lead enforcer. He didn't say a word. He just stared.
The enforcer's hands began to tremble. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. Slowly, his fingers loosened. The heavy silver handcuffs clattered onto the floor.
One by one, the enforcers backed away. They lowered their heads, yielding their ground to a far deadlier predator.
Dacre walked up the wooden steps. He stopped right in front of Vance.
He was massive up close. Dacre stood a full head taller than Vance. His broad shoulders blocked out the bright stage lights. Faint, jagged scars peeked out from underneath his cuffs.
"I gave you an order, Dacre," Vance growled, baring his teeth.
Dacre ignored him. He simply reached out and shoved Vance aside.
He didn't use force. He just casually swept Vance out of his way like an annoying branch blocking his path. Vance stumbled to the side, completely humiliated.
Dacre stepped right up to me.
My claws were still extended. My golden eyes were glowing bright. Every instinct I had told me to strike anyone who got too close. But as Dacre stopped in front of me, my wolf did something she had never done before.
She relaxed.
She didn't cower. She didn't whimper. She purred. A deep, vibrating hum of absolute recognition echoed in the back of my mind.
Dacre tilted his head. His pitch-black eyes studied my face. He looked at the blood staining my lips. He looked at my bare shoulders. He looked at the torn shreds of my red silk dress.
Then, he inhaled slowly.
He caught the scent of my awakened Alpha-born blood. The corner of his mouth twitched upward into a dark, dangerous smirk.
"They told me I was coming to watch a submissive puppy get collared," Dacre said. His voice was a deep, gravelly baritone. It sent a heavy shiver straight down my spine. "They didn't tell me they were caging a queen."
Vance saw red.
His ego completely shattered. He couldn't stand being ignored in his own pack house. He couldn't stand watching another man look at me like that.
"She is my mate!" Vance yelled. He lunged forward, throwing a reckless punch at Dacre's back. "She belongs to me!"
Dacre didn't even turn around.
With lightning speed, Dacre's arm shot backward. He caught Vance by the throat mid-air.
The sound of Vance's punch was replaced by a horrible, wet choking noise. Dacre slowly turned his body. He lifted Vance completely off the ground with one single hand.
Vance's legs kicked wildly in the empty air. His expensive leather shoes scraped desperately against Dacre's shin. Vance clawed at Dacre's thick forearm, gasping for breath. His face turned a dark, bruised shade of purple.
The entire pack gasped, but no one dared to move.
Dacre pulled Vance close. His black eyes were completely devoid of mercy.
"She just rejected you in front of your entire pack, boy," Dacre whispered. The deadly calm in his voice was terrifying. "The only thing you own right now is embarrassment."
Dacre flicked his wrist.
He tossed Vance aside like a piece of trash. Vance flew off the edge of the stage and crashed directly into a towering table of champagne glasses.
Crystal shattered everywhere. Vance hit the marble floor, covered in broken glass and spilled liquor. He groaned in agony, clutching his bruised ribs.
Dacre didn't spare him a second glance. He pulled a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his hand, as if touching Vance had dirtied his skin. He tossed the cloth onto the floor.
Then, Dacre turned back to me.
He raised his hand. His palm was open, revealing heavily scarred knuckles.
"Walk out of those doors with me," Dacre said quietly.
Elder Thorne panicked. The old man scrambled to his feet on the edge of the stage.
"Sloane, wait!" Thorne shouted. His voice cracked with genuine fear. "You don't understand what you are doing! If you leave this territory without your Alpha's permission, you lose your pack status! You become a rogue! The Continental Council will hunt you down!"
I looked down at the floor.
Vance was coughing up blood on shattered glass. Blythe was hiding behind a marble pillar, trembling like a coward. Elder Thorne was begging me to stay in a cage that nearly killed me.
The Crescent Pack gave me nothing but pain. I died on their altar.
I looked back at Dacre. His hand was still waiting. Steady. Unmoving.
I didn't hesitate.
I reached out and placed my hand in his. His skin was rough, but incredibly warm.
"I'd rather be a rogue than his Luna," I said firmly.
Dacre's fingers tightened around mine. But instead of just walking me down the stairs, he yanked me forward.
I gasped as I collided with his hard chest. He wrapped a thick, muscular arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He felt like solid rock. His icy scent instantly wrapped around me, masking my smell from the rest of the room. It felt wildly protective.
Dacre looked up at Elder Thorne.
Slowly, Dacre's pitch-black eyes bled into a terrifying, demonic red.
"She isn't a rogue," Dacre's voice boomed. It shook the crystal chandeliers above us. "She is under the absolute protection of the Winterfall Pack."
Dacre swept his red eyes across the frozen, terrified crowd.
"Anyone who takes a single step after her," Dacre warned. "Dies."
- Writer
