Sold To The Ruthless Werewolf King

12

Emily

“Let me go!” I screamed, my voice raw as they threw my body onto the hard wooden floor of the carriage. “Let me go!”

“Shut up!” The guard lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. The strike sent my head snapping against the carriage wall. “Luna Anna knew you’d act like a feral dog.”

“What are you waiting for?” the second guard barked from the doorway. “Feed her the potion. Make sure she stays quiet.”

Before I could breathe, rough hands pinned my shoulders to the floor. A heavy grip clamped onto my jaw, forcing my mouth open, and they poured the bitter liquid down my throat.

The moment they let go, I shoved my fingers down my own throat, desperately trying to gag and throw it up—but it was already gone. It was already burning in my stomach.

“You...” I pointed a trembling finger at them, wanting to curse them, but the carriage began to warp. My vision fractured, making it look like the two guards had multiplied into a dozen shadow figures.

“Sleep well,” a distant voice laughed. “By the time you wake up, you’ll be at the Nightclaw Pack.”

The darkness swallowed me whole.

I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. Hours, days—time didn’t exist in the fog of the poison. But when my eyes finally snapped open, the stifling air of the carriage was gone.

I was on my knees, cold stone biting into my bare skin.

Panic seized my chest. Hundreds of heavy, suffocating gazes burned directly into my flesh. I looked around wildly, my heart hammering against my ribs. I was in the middle of a massive, ancient hall filled with a crowd of strangers.

But these weren’t normal werewolves. They were colossal; their towering frames and predatory auras far more massive and menacing than any species I had ever seen in my own pack.

“You’re awake,” a voice echoed.

The sound was a deep, rumbling baritone that vibrated through the stone floor and settled into my bones. I turned my head toward the sound, my breath catching in my throat.

There, elevated on a dark stone throne, sat a king.

He was magnificent and terrifying all at once. He dwarfed his own people, his physical presence radiating absolute, lethal power. A striking metallic golden stripe cut across his face, jagged and sharp.

My eyes involuntarily tracked downward. He wore a dark jacket, completely open, revealing a broad, heavily muscled chest. The golden stripes weren’t just on his face; they rippled across his collarbones, his chest, and tore down his arms like trapped lightning.

“Are you done looking?” a harsh voice snapped from the crowd. “At our King?”

“What do you expect from people like her?” another voice mocked, a woman sneering at me from the shadows. “A woman shamelessly dressed in rags like a prostitute, with a hideous, mutilated face... and she dares to dream of becoming our queen?”

“How dare she!”

A wave of angry murmurs filled the great hall, their hostility crashing over me like a physical wave. I pulled my arms tight over my exposed skin, curling into myself as my body shook with an uncontrollable tremor.

“My King,” a familiar, trembling voice called out. I looked over and saw one of the guards who had brought me here. He was on his knees, bowing so low that his forehead touched the stone. “Our Alpha meant no disrespect. He meant well by sending her.”

“Oh?” The King leaned forward, his deep voice shaking the very foundations of the hall. “He meant well... by sending this trash to me?”

“She... she had an accident,” the second guard stammered, his face pale with sweat as he tried to defend the handoff. “Even if she is ugly, she is still the beloved daughter of our Beta, and—”

A sharp, wet crack cut him short.

I gasped, my eyes widening in absolute horror. The guard didn’t even finish his sentence. His body collapsed forward, his life stolen in the blink of an eye. It happened so fast, I didn’t even see the movement.

“Trash!” The King stood up from his throne, and the true scale of his height finally became clear.

Stories about the Nightclaw King were spoken in whispers around campfires—terrible, blood-soaked rumors that kept pups awake at night. They said he was a monster who killed without blinking.

Looking at him now, I knew the rumors hadn’t lied. He had just taken a life, yet a dark, effortless smile played on his lips as if he had done nothing more than swat a fly.

“In my pack,” he began, his voice carrying an apex authority that made every wolf in the room lower their heads, “I lack nothing. Sending me a discarded, broken daughter of a mere Beta means absolutely nothing to me.”

“I’m sorry, my King!” the remaining guard shrieked, his voice cracking with pure terror as he scrambled backward. “We meant no harm! Please!”

The King stepped down from the dais, his heavy boots echoing in the silent hall. He walked with the slow, graceful stride of a predator that knew nothing could oppose him. He stopped right in front of the shivering guard.

“Since you meant no harm,” the King whispered, his golden stripes gleaming in the torchlight, “I will make sure to send a proper gift back to your Alpha. Your head will do nicely.”

SLASH.

It happened in another terrifying blur. The guard’s body hit the ground with a heavy, hollow thud, and a thick river of crimson blood began to pool across the stone, flowing directly toward where I sat.

I knew I should move. I knew I should jump back, scream, or run for the doors—but the sheer, suffocating terror had completely paralyzed my legs. I was pinned to the floor by his aura.

I watched in frozen horror as the King slowly raised his hand, his long, razor-sharp claws dripping with fresh blood. He casually licked the crimson from his fingers, his dark eyes never leaving mine.

Then, he began to walk toward me.

My heart stopped. It was my turn to die.