Claimed by the Wolf Lord

Chapter 8: The Morning Interrogation

Caleb was trapped. The heavy, peaceful weight of Julian's body pressed him deep into the silk sheets. The Wolf Lord was utterly still, the harsh lines of exhaustion smoothed by the deep, unnatural calm the Seer Lullaby had gifted him. Julian was sleeping soundly for the first time in what felt like years, a testament to the terrifying power Caleb now held.

But dawn was approaching, and with it came Elder Marcus.

Caleb slowly, painstakingly, reached for the phone Julian always kept beside the bed—a secure line for emergencies. He needed to wake Damon, or Ethan, anyone, without disturbing the sleeping Alpha.

He managed to dial Damon's internal line. It rang once before a sharp, controlled voice answered.

Damon: “Royce.”

Caleb kept his voice a panicked whisper.

Caleb: “Damon, it's Caleb. You need to get here. Now. Alone.”

Damon's professionalism cracked, replaced by sharp urgency.

Damon: “Mr. Ash, I have a secure notification that you have an urgent meeting with Elder Marcus at dawn. The Alpha is aware and—Wait. Why are you calling me? Why isn't Julian answering his line?”

Caleb: “He is… he is asleep,” Caleb whispered, his chest tight. “Deeply asleep. I gave him the Lullaby. The Nightingale song. He's completely out. Marcus will be here soon. He couldn't see Julian like this. It's too vulnerable.”

A stunned silence stretched across the line. The thought of the all-powerful Alpha being rendered unconscious by his human mate was a world-breaking concept for a Clan member.

Damon: “Stay calm, Mr. Ash,” Damon finally hissed, his voice dropping to a tense command. “Do not wake him. Do not touch him. I will be there in three minutes. Do not let Marcus in until I arrive. If Julian is truly incapacitated, the Clan must not know.”

Caleb disconnected the call. He had to move. He slowly, centimeter by centimeter, pushed against the immense, relaxed weight of Julian's shoulder. It felt like trying to lift granite.

Julian groaned softly, the sound low and guttural, but he didn't wake. His dominant pine scent, heavy with the sedative effect of the Lullaby, was almost overpowering, pulling Caleb back toward sleep.

Finally, with a burst of adrenaline-fueled effort, Caleb managed to slide free. He landed softly on the floor and scrambled to the closet. He grabbed a fresh set of clothes—dark, simple, and unscented.

He raced to the bathroom. He had to be calm. He had to look compliant.

Just as he finished pulling on the sweater, the inner chime of the suite's main door sounded—a discreet, formal announcement.

Elder Marcus was here.

Caleb swallowed, his heart pounding at a frantic rhythm. He smoothed his hair and forced his expression into a mask of placid compliance. He walked to the inner door, standing rigidly before the magnetic lock, his hands clasped tightly.

Exactly forty-five seconds later, a frantic tap-tap-tap sounded on the door. It was Damon.

Damon: “Marcus is approaching the outer security door now! You have ten seconds, Mr. Ash!”

Caleb unlocked the door, allowing Damon to slip inside. Damon was wearing a perfectly tailored suit, but his eyes were wide with barely contained panic. He took one look at the sleeping Wolf Lord, still prone and utterly vulnerable on the bed, and his professional composure visibly shattered.

Damon: “Gods above,” Damon breathed, his eyes wide. “The lullaby is a genuine control frequency.”

Caleb: “Damon, what do I do?” Caleb whispered, panic rising.

Damon: “You tell Marcus nothing. You answer every question with absolute deference. You say your stability is entirely based on the Alpha's proximity and nothing else. Lie, Mr. Ash. For the Clan. For Julian. For your life.”

Damon moved with lightning speed, pulling a privacy screen around the bed. He then snatched Julian's discarded blazer and handed it to Caleb.

Damon: “Wear this. It still holds his strongest scent. It's your shield.”

The magnetic lock hissed open. Elder Marcus entered, flanked by two immense, cold-eyed Beta guards. Marcus was a wolf carved from granite, old and formidable, his gaze immediately sweeping the room, searching for the Alpha.

Marcus: “Mr. Ash,” Marcus boomed, his voice accusatory. “Where is the Alpha?”

Caleb swallowed, adjusting the heavy, alpha-scented blazer over his shoulders. The scent was a comfort, a potent mask for his fear.

Caleb: “Elder Marcus,” Caleb replied, his voice soft but steady. “The Alpha is currently engaged in essential Mate Bond maintenance and cannot be disturbed. He commanded me to receive you.”

Marcus's eyes narrowed, catching the thick, stabilizing scent of the room. He saw the privacy screen but didn't dare challenge the Alpha's private space.

Marcus: “Mate, Bond maintenance?” Marcus sneered. “Such softness is exactly why we demanded this interview. Sit down, Mate. We will begin the Interrogation of Compliance.”

Caleb sat opposite Marcus, Damon positioning himself carefully behind Caleb, providing silent support.

Marcus's questions were designed to destabilize: “Did you initiate the Claim?” “Do you feel revulsion for the Alpha's species?” “Do you possess any loyalties outside this tower?”

Caleb answered with meticulous deference, repeating Damon's instructions: “My loyalty is to the Alpha's stability.” “My obedience is absolute.” “My dependence is physiological.”

Marcus leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl.

Marcus: “The physician found the Seer marker in your blood. You carry the power of the Witch Blood. Tell me, Mate, do you know how to use it to control the Alpha?”

Caleb felt his throat constrict. He thought of the lullaby, the profound, peaceful surrender of Julian's body just ten feet away. He had to lie.

Caleb: “I have no control, Elder,” Caleb whispered, his eyes wide and innocent. “I am only human. My only purpose is to act as Alpha's stabilizer, entirely through my natural scent. The Alpha is the dominant party.”

Marcus smiled, a cold, predatory expression.

Marcus: “Perhaps. But the Seer Lineage was famous for its emotional manipulation. They used to love, Mate. They manipulated the Alpha's heart until he was useless to the Clan. You smell sweet, Ash. Are you playing a longer game?”

Caleb's chest tightened. He had to shift the focus, or Marcus would win. He thought of Julian's exhaustion, his constant struggle with the rage.

Caleb: “Elder Marcus,” Caleb said, forcing a trembling, vulnerable tone. “The only game here is survival. The Alpha's Rage is immense. If I fail, he will fall, and your Clan will descend into chaos. If you spend time trying to break me, you are only weakening the foundation you claim to protect.”

The simple, terrifying logic struck Marcus. He looked away, considering the statement.

Marcus stood abruptly, his time up. He looked directly at Caleb, his eyes holding a final, cold threat.

Marcus: “The assessment revealed another factor, Mate,” Marcus stated, his voice now dangerously soft. “Your dependency on the Alpha is obvious. But the Alpha's scent is not enough for the full stabilization of the Throne Alpha Line. You need a Mate Mark to truly survive the next phases of the Rage. Julian must complete the Bond, or his instability will eventually consume you both.”

Marcus stepped closer, his scent, sharp and old, momentarily overwhelming Julian's. He lowered his voice.

Marcus: “If the Alpha does not claim you completely, Mate,” Marcus whispered, a dark, enticing lure. “Perhaps you should seek a more suitable protector. One who understands the true value of your blood.”

Caleb met his gaze, fighting the urge to flinch. He knew this was a direct, lethal challenge—a test of his loyalty. He thought of Julian's desperate need, his hot kiss, his brutal, honest admission of necessity.

Caleb drew a deep breath, inhaling the strong, pine scent from the jacket.

Caleb: “Elder Marcus,” Caleb said, his voice flat, resolute. “My loyalty is to the Thorne Alpha. He has claimed my blood. He will complete the Bond when he is ready.”

Marcus stared for a long, heavy moment, then nodded slowly, a predatory smile touching his lips.

Marcus: “We shall see, Mate. We shall see.”

He left, his guards following, the silence rushing back into the room.

Caleb stood there, trembling, until Damon finally dropped his facade.

Damon: “Mr. Ash, you were magnificent,” Damon gasped, rushing to the private screen. “But you just risked your life. Marcus just issued a veiled offer of protection.”

Caleb ignored him, ran to the bed. Julian was beginning to stir, the deep peace of the lullaby wearing off. He groaned, his large body shifting.

Caleb: “Julian! Julian, wake up!” Caleb whispered urgently, shaking his shoulder.

Julian's eyes opened, amber and dangerously confused. He looked at Caleb, his pupils wide and dark, his control completely gone.

Julian: “Mate?” Julian muttered, his voice thick, his hand shooting out to grab Caleb's hip. “What… what happened? Why am I so calm?”

Caleb couldn't explain the Lullaby now. He had to use the immediate threat.

Caleb: “Marcus was just here!” Caleb cried, panic spiking. “He knew about the Seer blood, and he said… he said you have to complete the Mate Mark, or we will both die! Julian, you have to do it now, before he challenges you again!”

Julian's eyes snapped into focus, the reality of the threat overriding the lingering peace. He looked down at Caleb, pinned under his intense, possessive grip, his eyes blazing with a mixture of terror, anger, and fierce, primal demand.