Chapter One – The Alpha’s Claim
The night bled silver over the ruins of the Moonveil border. Wind howled between the trees, carrying the stench of burnt pine and iron. Bodies lay scattered like forgotten offerings, and the scent of blood hung heavy in the air.
Aria’s knees pressed into the damp earth, her wrists bound with rough rope. Her breath came shallow and sharp, every exhale trembling against the gag tied around her mouth. She didn’t cry anymore. There were no tears left—only fear.
“Pathetic,” sneered one of the guards. “A traitor’s daughter, and still trying to breathe.”
His laughter was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps—slow, deliberate, commanding. The entire clearing stilled. Even the wind seemed to kneel in silence.
He appeared from the shadows like a ghost carved in moonlight. Tall. Unforgiving. His coat—a dark leather that caught the faintest silver glint—hung open enough to reveal the power beneath it. The others stepped back without a word.
Lucian Drax.
The name alone made wolves drop to their knees. The Alpha of the Blackridge Pack. Ruthless. Untouchable. They said his blood ran colder than the steel he carried at his hip.
Aria didn’t need stories to tell her that. She felt it—every ounce of dominance radiating from him as he came to stand before her.
Lucian’s gaze swept over her like a blade. “This is her?” he asked, voice deep, calm, and merciless.
“Yes, Alpha,” one of the guards stammered. “The Alpha’s daughter. She was caught trespassing after—”
Lucian raised a single hand. Silence fell again.
He crouched, gloved fingers catching her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes—cold grey rimmed with silver—locked onto hers, unreadable. For a moment, something flickered there. Curiosity. Pity. No—possession.
“Untie her,” he ordered.
The guards hesitated. “But..Alpha, she’s…”
“I said untie her.” His tone didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. Authority laced every syllable like poison.
The ropes fell. Aria’s hands trembled as she rubbed her sore wrists. She couldn’t understand it. Why would the Alpha of Blackridge spare her—a prisoner of war, the daughter of his enemy?
Lucian stood and turned away as if she no longer existed. “She comes with me,” he said over his shoulder.
The words hung like thunder.
“What?” one of his lieutenants blurted. “With respect, Alpha, she’s….”
“She’s under my protection,” Lucian interrupted. “Anyone who touches her answers to me.”
Aria’s heart stopped. Protection? From him?
She didn’t know whether to be grateful or terrified. Maybe both.
As Lucian walked away, she was pulled to her feet and pushed after him. The forest swallowed them in darkness, broken only by the faint glow of moonlight through the branches.
When they reached his jeep, Lucian finally spoke again. “Get in.”
His voice left no room for argument.
Aria hesitated, fingers tightening around the edge of the door. “Why are you doing this?” she whispered.
Lucian’s hand froze on the steering wheel. For a second, he looked at her as if he were searching for something he didn’t want to find.
“You’ll understand soon enough,” he said, and started the engine.
The ride was silent except for the growl of the tires over the gravel road. Aria kept her eyes on the window, watching trees blur into shadows. Every time she risked a glance at him, her chest tightened.
There was something about the way he drove—steady, composed, dangerous—that made her think he wasn’t just a man. He was a storm disguised in human form.
When they finally reached his territory, the gates opened without a word. Guards bowed. Wolves in human form stepped aside.
Lucian didn’t slow.
He parked in front of a massive stone mansion, its walls wrapped in ivy and moonlight. The kind of place that screamed power.
“Out,” he said.
She obeyed, unsure if she was walking to safety or her own grave.
Lucian motioned for one of his men. “Prepare the east wing. She stays there.”
The man frowned. “Alpha, that’s close to your quarters—”
“I know.” His tone cut like a blade. “Now go.”
When they were alone, Lucian turned to her, his expression unreadable. “You’ll find clothes inside. Food will be sent up in an hour. You don’t leave that room unless I say so.”
Aria’s voice broke. “Am I your prisoner?”
Lucian stepped closer, and for a heartbeat, the air between them burned. His hand brushed a loose strand of hair from her face, his touch unexpectedly gentle.
“No,” he murmured. “You’re something else entirely.”
Then he was gone—disappearing into the darkness of the corridor, leaving her standing there, heart racing, mind spinning.
That night, as the moon climbed high and cold light washed through the curtains, Aria sat on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket to her chest.
She didn’t know what fate awaited her under Lucian Drax’s roof.
But one thing was certain—whatever bound her to him had only just begun.
And in his eyes, she had seen it clearly.
He wasn’t her savior. He was her sentence.