Chapter 4-Alpha Thorne
1486 Words
Elara’s POV
The rain kept falling, but the world went suddenly, sickeningly quiet.
Alpha Thorne.
The name slammed into my skull like a hammer. This had to be him. The ruthless conqueror. The wolf who broke packs for fun. The man my father had sold me to like I was livestock.
I couldn’t help it. I threw my head back and laughed.
The sound that tore out of my throat was wild…bitter.
“Runaway bride?” I spat the words into the storm like they were poison. “You must have the wrong girl. I don’t belong to anyone—especially not some shadow who thinks a stare and a bad tattoo collection makes him intimidating.”
He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink.
Those silver eyes simply tilted, slow and deliberate, like a predator deciding whether the prey was worth the effort of a chase… or better snapped in half right here.
Water streamed down the sharp line of his jaw, dripping from the dark stubble there. He looked carved from ice and violence.
A strange faint scent drifted through my nose—something warm…dark and powerful…but the rain and wet earth drowned it out before I could place it. My wolf stirred anyway, uneasy, like she recognized something I didn't.
That was when it hit me.
I was still naked.
Completely, humiliatingly bare under the cold lash of rain. My skin prickled with goosebumps and shame and fury all at once. I lunged for the bag I’d dropped earlier—half buried in mud now. My fingers shook as I yanked it open, dragged out the hoodie. It was soaked through, heavy, but it would cover me. I shoved my arms into the sleeves, pulled it over my head fast, pretending the man ten feet away wasn’t watching every frantic movement.
The fabric clung to my wet skin like a second, useless layer. Didn’t matter. I turned to run.
And slammed straight into a wall.
Only it wasn’t a wall.
When I looked up, it was him. A wall of muscle and heat and cold silver eyes staring straight down at me.
“You’re in my way,” I snapped, voice shaking in fury more than fear. I tried to shove past him.
His hand shot out—fast, iron-tight—wrapped around my wrist and yanked me back. I stumbled, caught myself against his chest for one horrifying second before jerking away.
“For someone who thought she could be Alpha,” he said, voice low and calm, “you’re really quite weak.”
The words landed like a slap. Anger boiled up so fast it burned my throat.
“You know nothing about me,” I snarled.
And then I swung.
My fist connected with his jaw. The crack of it echoed even over the rain. It was satisfying to my ears.
He didn’t even flinch.
His head barely moved. Those silver eyes stayed locked on mine, cold, unimpressed, almost bored. A thin trickle of blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. He licked it away slowly, like it was nothing.
“So you’re really Elara Voss,” he said. “I expected better.”
“I already f*****g told you—you have the wrong girl. Now run along.”
I turned to leave.
His hand caught my wrist once more—this time harder. I gasped, twisting, but he was immovable. Shock froze me for half a second.
“What do you think you’re doing?!”
He didn’t answer.
Instead he reached behind him with his free hand. When he brought it forward, something caught the faint moonlight between the clouds.
A diamond ring.
Huge disgusting. Everything I never wanted.
I tried to wrench away…it was useless. His grip was unbreakable.
“Don't—don't put that on me. Don't f*****g put that on me—”
Too late.
He slid it onto my finger with terrifying calm. The metal was freezing against my skin. It fit perfectly—like it had been measured for me.
He examined my hand for a second amid my struggles, turning it this way and that like he was inspecting merchandise. Then his eyes lifted to mine.
In the coldest voice I’d ever heard, he said:
“We’re officially getting married.”
“Never!” The word tore out of me, deep from my chest, raw and furious. “Never! I’ll never marry you! I’ll never marry anyone!”
I stomped down hard on his foot.
He didn’t even react.
I twisted, kicked, tried to bolt—
His arm hooked around my waist. In one smooth, effortless motion he threw me over his shoulder like I weighed nothing.
“No! No! Put me down! f*****g put me down!”
I screamed. I hit his back with both fists. I kicked. I clawed. It was like hitting stone. Every blow landed uselessly against muscles that didn't give an inch.
He started walking.
I couldn’t go back. Going back meant chains. Going back meant him. Going back meant the end of everything I’d fought for.
I thrashed harder.
He suddenly stopped. Dropped me.
I hit the mud on my ass—hard. Air punched out of my lungs.
“You bastard!”
He crouched in front of me, slow, deliberate. Rain streamed off his face. His hand shot out and caught my chin—firm, not painful, but impossible to break.
“If there’s anything I hate,” he said quietly, “it’s women like you. Spoiled. Weak. Pathetic. Childish.”
I stared at him with so much hate it hurt. My vision blurred—rain, tears, rage, I didn’t know anymore.
I looked around wildly for an escape. Saw my chance. Brought my knee up fast—aiming straight for his balls.
He caught my leg mid-air. Twisted.
I yelped. He yanked me up like I was a doll, threw me back over his shoulder.
“You already make me sick,” he said, voice dripping with disgust.
Despite every kick, every scream, every curse I threw at him, he carried me like I was nothing. Through the rain. Through the trees. Back the way I’d come.
When we finally broke through the tree line, the pack house lights glowed ahead…warm, mocking. There were guards everywhere.
My father stood on the porch steps, coat pulled tight against the rain, face pale and anxious.
And from the corner of my eye—Emma.
She stood half-hidden behind a pillar. Head down. Fidgeting with her fingers. She wouldn’t look at me.
How could you?
How could you?
I trusted you.
The words burned in my throat but never made it out.
Thorne dropped me on my feet. I swayed, legs shaking from exhaustion, cold, fury. Before I could find my balance—the slap came.
Hard.
My head snapped to the side. The sting bloomed across my cheek like fire.
I looked up slowly.
My father.
His hand was still raised. His eyes filled with disappointment so thick it choked me.
“Dad…” The word came out small. Broken.
He shook his head. “You tried to run away, Elara. You want to be an Alpha, but you can’t sacrifice for your pack? Is that what a true leader is? You’re selfish.”
I stared at him—not believing the words coming out of his mouth. The man who’d trained me. The man who’d promised me the pack. The man who’d just slapped me in front of everyone.
“What was I supposed to do?” My voice rose. “Just marry some Alpha?! Let him own me?”
“Watch your mouth, Elara,” he snapped. “You do not speak about Alpha Thorne like that.”
The air turned thick. Heavy. Everyone watching—guards, pack members who’d gathered, Emma still hiding like a coward. Rain drummed on the roof like gunfire.
Then Thorne spoke.
Calm. Cold. Cutting through everything.
“You do not want to marry me. Right?”
“Of course not!” I shot back.
My father ground his teeth. “Elara! Alpha Thorne, ignore her she's just a child—”
“I won’t marry him,” I said, loud and clear. “I won't.”
My father groaned—frustration, anger, exhaustion all twisted together.
Thorne's silver eyes never left mine.
“Then fight me.”
The words dropped like stone into still water.
“I challenge you to a duel. If you win… we call off the marriage. If you lose…” His silver eyes darkened. “You become my property.”
Everywhere went dead quiet.
Even the rain seemed to pause.
My heart pounded so hard I thought it would crack my ribs.
But I wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not ever.
I looked him square in the eyes—chin up, voice steady despite the tremble in my hands.
“I accept your challenge.”
- Writer
