Chapter 3: Claimed
1239 Words
The journey from the auction house to the heart of the BlackMoon territory took three more days. Alicia spent them locked in the same ironbarred carriage, wrists unbound now but hands clenched tightly in her lap to stop the trembling. Joshua did not ride inside with her. He traveled ahead on horseback, his massive black stallion visible sometimes through the narrow slits when the guards opened the door to toss in stale bread and a waterskin.
Each time the door opened, cold wind rushed in, carrying his scent: dark pine, woodsmoke, and something sharper, like steel left in snow. It wrapped around her despite her efforts to ignore it. Her skin prickled. Her chest tightened. She hated her body’s reaction, hated the way her pulse quickened whenever he was near, even when she could not see him.
She told herself it was only fear.
The roads grew steeper, the air thinner and colder. Snow began to fall on the second day, thick flakes that muffled all sound. By the third morning, the carriage wheels crunched over packed ice. They had entered the northern mountains.
When they finally stopped, it was night. Torches flared outside. The door swung open and a guard hauled her out. Her bare feet hit frozen ground, pain shooting up her legs. She gasped but did not cry out.
The BlackMoon stronghold rose before her like a fortress carved from the mountain itself. Massive stone walls, black as obsidian, stretched high into the darkness. Towers speared the sky. Windows glowed with warm light that felt mocking against the bitter cold. Banners bearing the silver crescent moon snapped in the wind.
Guards in black armor lined the courtyard. Wolves prowled the shadows, eyes reflecting torchlight. Every gaze turned to her as Joshua dismounted nearby. He moved with lethal grace, cloak swirling around his broad frame. Snow dusted his dark hair. The scar on his face stood out starkly in the firelight.
He did not look at her yet.
Two female servants waited at the base of wide stone steps. They bowed low to Joshua, then approached Alicia. Their expressions were carefully blank.
“This way,” the older one said. Her voice was quiet but firm.
Alicia followed, limping on numb feet. Joshua’s boots echoed behind them as he ascended the steps. She felt his presence like a storm at her back.
Inside, warmth hit her like a wave. Massive hearths blazed along marble halls. Rich tapestries depicted ancient battles and full moons. The scent of roasted meat and spiced wine drifted from somewhere deeper. It was opulence beyond anything she had imagined, yet the beauty felt cold, like a trap disguised as luxury.
Pack members paused to stare as they passed. Some whispered. Others openly sneered. A tall woman with sharp features and golden hair watched from a balcony above, arms crossed, lips curled in disdain.
They led her down a side corridor, away from the main halls, to a small chamber on the lower level. It was clean but sparse: a narrow bed, a wooden chair, a tiny hearth with a low fire. A single window high in the wall showed only darkness.
“You will serve here,” the older servant said. “Kitchen duties at dawn. Cleaning. Whatever is asked. Do not wander. Do not speak unless spoken to.”
The younger servant placed a bundle on the bed: rough wool dress, apron, worn boots. “Change. Burn that shift in the fire.”
They left without another word. The door closed. A lock clicked.
Alicia stood frozen for a long moment. Then she stripped off the thin auction garment and let it fall into the flames. The fire hissed as it consumed the last reminder of that stage.
She dressed quickly in the new clothes. The wool scratched, but it was warm. The boots were too big, but they protected her feet. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the locked door.
Hours passed. The fire burned low. She did not sleep.
Footsteps approached again near midnight. Heavy. Deliberate.
The lock turned. The door opened.
Joshua filled the frame, ducking slightly to enter. He closed the door behind him. The room shrank around his presence.
Alicia stood, back straight, chin lifted. She would not cower.
He studied her in silence. Firelight danced across his scarred face, deepening the shadows in his silver eyes. Up close, he was even larger than she remembered: tall, muscled like a warrior forged in endless battle. His cloak was gone. He wore a simple black tunic that stretched across his chest.
“You are in my territory now,” he said at last. His voice was low, rough, like gravel under boots. “Your father’s debt is mine to collect.”
Alicia met his gaze. “Then collect it and be done.”
A faint flicker crossed his expression: surprise, perhaps, or amusement. “Bold words for a lowranking Omega who has nothing.”
“I have my life,” she said. “Take it if that settles the debt.”
He stepped closer. The air thickened. His scent flooded her senses again, stronger now, dizzying. Her heart raced.
“I did not pay fifty thousand silver marks for a corpse.” His eyes narrowed. “I paid for a servant. You will work. You will obey. And you will stay alive because I command it.”
She swallowed, but her voice remained steady. “And when the debt is paid?”
He smiled then, a slow, dangerous curve that held no warmth. “It will never be paid. Your father took something irreplaceable from me years ago. Blood for blood. You are the interest.”
He reached out suddenly, fingers closing around her wrist. The contact was lightning. Heat exploded through her veins. A pull deep in her chest yanked her toward him, unbidden, undeniable.
Joshua froze. His grip tightened. His eyes darkened, pupils blowing wide.
The Mate Bond.
She felt it spark to life between them, fierce and impossible. A golden thread weaving around her heart, tugging her closer even as every instinct screamed to run.
He released her as if burned, stepping back. His jaw clenched. “That should not be possible.”
Alicia cradled her wrist, skin tingling where he had touched. Confusion and anger warred inside her. “I did not ask for this.”
“Nor did I.” His voice was colder now, edged with fury. At her? At fate? “But it changes nothing. You belong to me.”
He turned and strode to the door.
“Why me?” she called after him, the question bursting out before she could stop it. “You could have chosen anyone.”
He paused, hand on the latch. Without turning, he answered.
“I did not choose you, Omega. I chose vengeance.”
The door slammed shut. The lock clicked again.
Alicia sank onto the bed, pulse thundering in her ears. The bond hummed beneath her skin, warm and insistent, a chain she could not see but could already feel tightening.
She pressed her hands to her chest, willing it to stop.
It did not.
Outside, somewhere in the vast fortress, a wolf howled long and mournful into the night.
She was claimed now.
In body, in debt, and, against all reason, in bond.
But she would never surrender her soul.
Not to vengeance.
Not even to fate.
- Writer
