The Blood Rescue

🩸 CHAPTER 5: THE SELECTION

The morning sun didn't bring warmth; it cut through the

floor-to-ceiling glass windows of the Volkov compound like a cold,

bright blade.

I stood at the top of the grand marble staircase, my hands tightly

gripping the polished mahogany railing to keep from shaking. They had

taken my wet, mud-stained clothes while I slept. In their place, a

minimalist silk dresses the colour of crushed rubies clung to my skin.

It was beautiful, expensive, and a complete mockery—a literal velvet

collar marking me as the Pakman’s newest possession.

"Don't look so miserable, little bird. Red suits you," a deep, rough

voice purred from behind me.

I didn't need to turn around to know it was Jax. His heavy,

cedar-and-smoke Alpha scent hit my senses a split second before his

shadow enveloped me. He was dressed in a tailored charcoal suit,

looking entirely like a legitimate billionaire businessman, save for

the dark tattoo of a roaring wolf peeking out from beneath his white

collar. He still leaned slightly on his silver cane, but his posture

was straight, his lethal strength fully restored.

"I want my clothes back, Jax," I said, keeping my eyes fixed on the

massive foyer below. "And I want to go home."

"This is your home now, Eva," he murmured, stepping so close his chest

brushed against my shoulder. He leaned down, his warm breath fanning

across the sensitive skin of my neck, making my treacherous pulse

spike. "And down there... down there are the jackals who want to take

it from you."

I looked down. The massive, gold-leafed foyer was packed with over

fifty men and women. They were the elite tier of the Volkov

syndicate—capos, button men, crooked politicians, and the high-ranking

Alphas and Betas who kept Jax’s empire running. The air down there was

thick with competing scents of leather, gunpowder, and raw aggression.

They were murmuring, a low hum of anxious tension vibrating through

the crowd.

They had been called to an emergency pack meeting, but none of them knew why.

"Ilya," Jax called out, his voice cutting through the air like a gunshot.

At the bottom of the stairs, his second-in-command immediately stepped

forward, snapping to attention. "The pack is assembled, Pakman. Every

captain from the five boroughs is present."

"Good." Jax wrapped his heavy, warm hand around my bare elbow. His

grip wasn't painful, but it was an absolute directive. "Walk with me,

Eva. Let them see who rules this city."

My knees felt like water, but the sheer survival instinct that had

kept me alive for nineteen years kicked in. I refused to let these

monsters see me beg. I kept my chin high, my eyes masking the

terrified amber swirls beneath a wall of stubborn brown, as Jax led me

down the grand staircase.

As we descended, the murmuring below died out completely. Fifty pairs

of eyes locked onto us.

At first, the looks were confused. They saw a small, unknown girl

walking beside their brutal Pakman. But as we reached the bottom step,

the artificial scent-blockers I had taken twenty-four hours ago

completely dissolved under the suffocating heat of so many dominant

Alphas in one room.

My biological scent—the pure, intoxicating fragrance of sweet citrus

and rain—flooded the foyer.

The reaction was instantaneous and terrifying.

Several Alpha captains gasped, their posture changing in a flash.

Their shoulders squared, their jaws tightened, and their pupils

dilated as their inner wolves recognized the rarest prize in the

criminal underworld. An unclaimed Omega. The room turned predatory in

less than a second.

A heavy, low growl vibrated out of Jax's chest, so loud it echoed off

the marble walls.

He stepped in front of me, completely blocking me from their view with

his massive frame. His Alpha aura exploded outward, a crushing weight

of pure, unadulterated dominance that slammed into the crowd like a

physical blow. The lower-ranking Betas instantly dropped their heads,

and even the arrogant Alpha captains flinched, forced to lower their

eyes out of sheer biological submission to the Pakman.

"Control your senses," Jax warned, his voice dropping into a dark,

lethal register that promised immediate violence. "Or I will gouge

your eyes out myself."

The room went dead silent. No one dared to breathe.

"Pakman," a voice called out from the front row.

A tall, sharp-faced Alpha named Viktor stepped forward. He was one of

Jax's oldest captains, a brutal man who ran the docks and had always

looked at Jax's throne with quiet envy. Viktor kept his eyes firmly on

the floor, but his jaw was tight with anger.

"We respect your authority," Viktor said, his voice straining against

Jax’s dominance. "But an Omega is pack property. The ancient laws of

the syndicate state that an unclaimed Omega must be put through the

Selection. She belongs to the strongest Alpha who can claim her, to

ensure the bloodline of the pack remains pure. You cannot simply hide

her away for yourself."

A collective murmur of agreement rippled through the older captains.

My stomach turned to ice. The Selection. They were talking about me

like I was prize cattle to be fought over in a ring.

I looked at Jax, expecting him to order Viktor’s execution on the

spot. Instead, Jax let out a cold, humourless laugh. He stepped closer

to Viktor, the tip of his silver cane resting exactly on the tip of

Viktor’s polished leather shoe.

"You want the ancient laws, Viktor?" Jax asked softly, dangerously.

"The laws protect the pack, Pakman," Viktor hissed, finally looking

up, his eyes flashing an aggressive red.

"Then let us follow them," Jax whispered. In a movement so fast, my

eyes could barely track it, Jax raised his cane and slammed the heavy

silver handle directly into Viktor’s jaw.

The crack of breaking bone echoed through the foyer. Viktor flew

backward, crashing into a row of chairs and sprawling into the marble

floor, coughing up blood and teeth. Before the other captains could

react, Jax’s soldiers drew their weapons, a dozen red laser sights

instantly painting the chests of anyone who dared to move.

Jax walked slowly over to the bleeding captain, leaning down until his

shadow completely covered him.

"The Selection requires an Alpha to challenge the current mate for

her," Jax growled, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. "I

am Jax Volkov. I am the Pakman of this city, and the Alpha of this

pack. If any of you think you are strong enough to take her from me,

step forward right now. Challenge me. Let's see who survives the

night."

He stood up, turning his terrifying gaze back to the crowd. Fifty

hardened killers, and not a single one moved. They all dropped their

heads, utterly defeated by his sheer ruthlessness.

Jax walked back to me, his hand finding my waist, pulling me firmly

against his side. The warmth of his body was the only stable thing in

the room.

"She is not packing property," Jax announced to his empire, his hand

tightening possessively on my hip. "She is your Queen. Look at her

face. Memorize her scent. Because if a single one of you disobeys her,

or looks at her with hunger again, I will feed your body to the

river."

He looked down at me, his amber eyes burning with a dark, terrifying

pride. "Meeting adjourned."

As the terrified mob began to quickly exit the compound, I pulled away

from his grip, my chest heaving. "You're insane," I whispered, looking

at Viktor who was being dragged away by medics. "They hate you now.

They hate me. You just put a target on my back."

"Let them try, little bird," Jax smiled, his fingers tracing the

contour of my jaw. "A king is only as strong as the empire he defends.

And I will burn this entire city to the ground before I let anyone

take you from me."