THE ALPHA WHO FOUND HER IN CHAINS

The night air around Blackthorn Pack was cold and heavy with the smell of pine trees and damp earth. Torches burned brightly along the stone walls of the great hall, illuminating the forest's darkness. Wolves from many different packs had gathered there tonight. It was a night of celebration. Inside, powerful Alphas sat at wooden tables. Laughter, loud voices, and metal cups hitting wood filled the room. Servants wove between them with food and drink. At the centre of the hall sat Alpha Darius Storm, the leader of the Blackthorn Pack. Darius was known across the lands as the strongest Alpha alive. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and sharp grey eyes that seemed to see everything. Many wolves feared him. Others respected him. Very few dared to challenge him. Tonight, he wore a black coat trimmed with silver fur, the symbol of Blackthorn’s power. Beside him, lying quietly near the table, was his wolf companion—Ragnar. Ragnar was enormous, far larger than any normal wolf. His night-dark fur and golden eyes tracked every movement. Even visiting Alphas kept their distance. “Your pack grows stronger every year, Darius,” said Alpha Marcus, a thick-bearded man sitting across from him. Darius gave a small nod. “Strength keeps the peace.” Marcus laughed loudly. “Or it scares everyone too much to start trouble.” Several Alphas chuckled at the joke. Tonight’s gathering was meant to celebrate the birth of Alpha Marcus’s son, a future heir. But underneath the celebration, the Alphas had come to discuss alliances and settle disputes, tension simmering as rivalries and accusations hung in the air. But Darius felt restless. He lifted his cup and drank slowly, sharp eyes scanning the room. Every sound, scent, and movement was clear to him—an Alpha’s advantage. Ragnar lifted his head slightly, his ears twitching. Darius noticed immediately. “What is it?” he murmured quietly. Ragnar’s nose moved in the air. Then Darius smelled it too. Blood. The scent was faint at first, hidden by roasted meat, smoke, and wine. Once noticed, it grew stronger. Fresh blood. Darius frowned. None of the other Alphas seemed to notice anything strange. They continued talking and drinking. But the smell bothered him. He slowly stood from his seat. “Something wrong?” Marcus asked. “Nothing important,” Darius replied calmly. Without another word, he walked away from the table. Ragnar rose immediately and followed him. The noise of the celebration faded behind them as Darius stepped into the quieter hallway outside the great hall. The stone floor was cold beneath his boots. The scent of blood was stronger here. Darius followed it down the hallway, his expression growing darker with each step. Ragnar walked silently beside him. The smell led toward the stronghold's lower level. The prison cells. Darius’s jaw tightened. Blackthorn prison held dangerous criminals and war enemies. Guards were always posted there. As Darius reached the stairs leading down, two guards quickly stood straight. “Alpha,” one of them said respectfully. Darius looked at them. “Why do I smell blood?” The guards exchanged nervous glances. “It’s… one of the prisoners,” the second guard said carefully. “What prisoner?” “A girl.” Darius’s eyes narrowed. “A girl?” he repeated. The guards shifted uncomfortably. "She was brought by another pack a few days ago," the first guard said. "They claim she’s dangerous." The smell of blood was now very strong. Darius stepped past them without another word and walked down the stairs. The lower prison was dark and cold. Small torches burned along the stone walls, casting long shadows across the floor. Rows of iron cells lined the hallway. Most of them were empty. But the scent of blood pulled him toward the last cell at the end. Ragnar’s low growl rumbled through the quiet corridor. Darius stopped in front of the cell. Inside, a young woman was chained to the wall. She was barely conscious. Her long silver hair fell over her face, dirty and tangled. Her clothes were torn, bruises covered her pale skin, and dried blood stained the floor. She looked weak… broken. But the moment Darius saw her— Something inside him snapped. His wolf roared to life. Mate. The word echoed through his mind. Darius froze. His heart began beating faster. It couldn’t be. But the pull was undeniable. The connection between them felt powerful and ancient, as if it were written into their very souls. The girl slowly lifted her head. Her eyes opened. They were a strange and beautiful colour—deep violet. For a moment, confusion filled her expression. Then she smelled him. Her eyes widened in shock. “No…” she whispered weakly. Darius stepped closer to the bars. “Who did this to you?” he asked quietly. Before she could answer, one of the guards spoke from behind him. “Alpha, that girl is dangerous.” Darius turned his head slightly. “Explain.” “She’s accused of destroying her own pack,” the guard said quickly. “They say she used witch magic to kill dozens of wolves.” Darius looked back at the girl. She looked barely strong enough to stand. The story didn’t make sense. If she destroyed her entire pack, why would she be brought here for judgment instead of being executed? Something wasn’t right, and Darius suspected the truth was being hidden from him. “What is your name?” he asked her. The girl hesitated. Then she whispered, “Selene.” Darius repeated the name silently. Selene. His mate. The word still echoed in his mind. Ragnar stepped forward and stared through the bars, his golden eyes fixed on her. Instead of growling, the giant wolf lowered his head slightly. A sign of acceptance. Darius made his decision. “Open the cell,” he ordered. The guards froze. "Alpha… we can’t," one said nervously. "The other Alphas will—" Darius turned slowly. The cold look in his grey eyes silenced them instantly. “That,” he said calmly, “was not a suggestion.” The guards rushed to unlock the door. The heavy iron gate creaked open. Darius stepped inside the cell. Selene tried weakly to pull away, but the chains held her in place. “Stay back,” she whispered. “You don’t understand… they said I’m cursed.” Darius knelt in front of her. For the first time in years, his voice softened. “You’re not cursed.” He reached out and gently lifted her chin so she could see his face. “You’re mine.” Selene’s breath caught. He pulled the chains from the wall with one powerful movement, breaking the rusted metal as if it were nothing. Then he carefully lifted her into his arms. She was too light. Weak. But she was alive. And she was his mate. Behind him, the guards stared in shock. “Alpha…” one whispered. “What will the others say?” Darius turned toward the stairs. Ragnar walked beside him like a silent shadow. His voice was calm but filled with absolute authority. “I don’t care what they say.” He looked down at the fragile woman in his arms. “I just found my mate.” And no one in the world was going to take her from him again.