Collateral for the Lycan Don

Chapter 2: The Fire in the Collateral

"Burn the debt," Enzo had commanded. "And put her in my car."

The words hung in the suffocating air of the packhouse foyer, ringing with a terrifying finality. For a fraction of a second, nobody moved. Alpha Arthur Vance remained frozen on his knees, weeping in pathetic relief that his miserable life had been spared.

Then, Matteo stepped forward.

The Underboss dropped his shark-like smile, replacing it with the cold, brutal efficiency of a mafia enforcer. "Let's go, little bird," Matteo murmured, reaching a large hand out to close around Elara’s blistered wrist.

The moment Matteo’s fingers brushed her skin, the spell of sheer terror holding Elara hostage shattered.

She wasn't a wolf. She was a dud, an anomaly, a weak, unshifted girl who was supposed to roll over and submit to apex predators.

But as the reality of what was happening crashed into her—she was being dragged into the dark, lethal underworld of the Morillo Syndicate to be used as a slave—pure, blinding survival instinct hijacked her brain.

Elara didn't freeze. She fought.

With a feral, breathless shriek, she ripped her arm back with so much force that Matteo stumbled forward. Elara scrambled away, her worn sneakers slipping on the soapy water she had just been using to scrub the floors. She scrambled toward the staircase, her heart hammering violently against her ribs.

"Hey!" Matteo barked, his Lycan speed allowing him to cross the distance in a millisecond. His heavy hand clamped down hard on her shoulder, his fingers digging into her collarbone to haul her backward.

Elara twisted wildly, kicking backward with her heel. Her shoe connected sharply with Matteo’s shin. He grunted in surprise more than pain, his grip loosening just a fraction of an inch. It was all the opening she needed. Spinning around, Elara lunged forward and sank her teeth directly into the fleshy part of Matteo’s forearm, biting down through the expensive fabric of his tailored suit jacket with everything she had.

"Son of a—!" Matteo hissed, yanking his arm back. A flash of predatory anger crossed his handsome face. Reacting strictly on instinct, the Underboss raised his other hand to strike her, to force the defiant collateral into submission.

His hand never fell.

A sound tore through the room that made Elara’s blood run ice cold. It wasn't a shout. It was a guttural, earth-shattering snarl that vibrated right through the floorboards and rattled the glass in the windowpanes.

“Touch her, and I will sever your hand from your wrist.”

Don Lorenzo Morillo hadn't raised his voice, but the sheer, crushing weight of his Alpha command forced Matteo to drop to one knee instantly. The Underboss bowed his head, baring his neck in absolute submission, his chest heaving. "Forgive me, Don. She took me by surprise."

Elara was backed against the wall, her chest rising and falling in ragged gasps, her fists clenched at her sides. She looked like a cornered, bruised alley cat entirely surrounded by wolves.

Enzo stepped past his kneeling Underboss. The overwhelming scent of rain, cold steel, and dark cedar flooded Elara’s senses again, making her head spin. Up close, the sheer size of the Lycan Don was terrifying. He stopped merely inches from her.

Elara squeezed her eyes shut, turning her face away, fully expecting to be backhanded for injuring his second-in-command. She braced for the blinding pain, trembling from head to toe.

But the pain didn't come.

Instead, a large, leather-gloved hand gently cupped the side of her face. The leather was cool, but the skin radiating beneath it was burning hot. Enzo’s thumb brushed remarkably softly just beneath the ugly, yellowish bruise blooming on her jawline.

Elara’s breath hitched. She opened her eyes, looking up into his face. His irises were still a mesmerizing, terrifying, luminescent silver. There was no anger in his expression. Only a dark, entirely consuming possessiveness that made Elara’s stomach flutter wildly.

"You have fire in you, little bird," Enzo murmured, his deep voice wrapping around her like a heavy, velvet blanket. "I like that. But you do not need to fight anymore."

Without another word, Enzo slid one arm behind her back and the other beneath her knees. Before Elara could even process what was happening, the Lycan Don swept her up off her feet, carrying her against his broad chest as easily as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Elara gasped, her hands flying up to grip the lapels of his suit to steady herself. The heat rolling off his body was intoxicating, and beneath the scent of rain and cedar, she could hear the steady, powerful thumping of his heart. It terrified her how safe she suddenly felt in the arms of a monster.

"Enzo, wait!" Arthur Vance called out weakly from the floor as the Don carried his daughter toward the shattered front doors. "The debt! We are clear, right? The Morillo Famiglia and the Vance pack are clear?"

Enzo paused in the doorway. He didn't look back at the pathetic Alpha.

"You are breathing, Arthur," Enzo said, his voice dropping back to an emotionless, icy deadpan. "Consider that your receipt. But if you ever attempt to contact this girl again, I will return, and I will burn this packhouse to the ground with you inside it."

Arthur whimpered, shrinking back into the shadows.

Enzo carried Elara out into the cool night air. A fleet of six armored, black SUVs sat idling on the gravel driveway, their headlights cutting through the darkness. A dozen massive, heavily armed Lycans stood at attention around the vehicles. The moment Enzo stepped outside with Elara in his arms, every single one of them bowed their heads in respect.

Enzo walked to the center SUV. A guard scrambled to pull the heavy, bulletproof back door open. Enzo set Elara inside, the plush leather seats swallowing her small frame, before climbing in right behind her.

The door slammed shut, sealing them inside the soundproof cabin. The locks engaged with a heavy, metallic click.

Elara pressed herself against the farthest window, her knees pulled up to her chest, her blistered hands trembling. She was trapped. She had been sold, kidnapped, and was now hurtling away from everything she knew in the back of a mafia convoy.

Enzo settled into the seat beside her, taking up an impossible amount of space. He casually unbuttoned his suit jacket, his silver eyes finally fading back to a deep, dark brown. He looked over at her, watching the way she trembled.

Slowly, he reached across the console. Elara flinched, but he only took her blistered, shaking hands into his own massive ones.

"Breathe, Elara," he commanded softly, the vibration of his voice settling deep in her chest. "You are collateral no longer. From this night forward, you belong to me. And nothing in this world will ever lay a hand on you again."