Alphas Prisoner Bride

Elara Voss’s boots sank into the frost-crusted earth of the Blackthorn Mountains, each step a desperate bid for freedom. Her heart pounded like a war drum, her breath a ragged cloud in the frigid night air. Clutched in her gloved fist was a stolen map, its edges frayed and ink smudged from sweat, pilfered from her father’s study in a moment of reckless courage. Aldric Voss, the ruthless patriarch of the Voss empire, had built his fortune strip-mining werewolf territories for rare lunar minerals, crushing clans and forests alike. Elara, his only heir, was his ultimate prize, betrothed to Victor Crane, a mogul whose cold, sadistic smile promised a fate worse than death. On her twenty fifth birthday, she’d overheard their plan: a ritual to bind her life force to Crane, fueling his twisted quest for immortality. The betrayal had shattered her, and she’d fled, trading her velvet gowns for a traveler’s cloak, the map her only guide to a hidden pass that promised escape. The blood red moon hung low, casting eerie shadows that twisted like specters through the towering pines. Every rustle of leaves spiked her fear her father’s mercenaries were relentless, their silver tipped blades a death sentence for any who defied the Voss empire. She gripped the map tighter, its scrawled lines barely visible in the dim light, her legs burning as she pushed deeper into the wilderness. The air grew colder, the forest denser, and a prickling sense of being watched crawled up her spine. She paused, scanning the darkness, her pulse roaring in her ears. A twig snapped, sharp as a gunshot, and she spun, eyes wide. Nothing but wind until a bone chilling howl split the night, raw and primal, freezing her blood in her veins. Elara bolted, the map crumpling in her fist as she wove through the trees, roots snagging her boots like greedy hands. Another howl, closer now, was joined by the thunder of paws and snapping branches. Her foot caught on a gnarled root, and she stumbled into a moonlit clearing, the map slipping from her grasp and fluttering to the ground. Before she could reach for it, a massive wolf lunged from the shadows, its amber eyes blazing with fury. Its weight slammed her to the earth, knocking the air from her lungs, and she thrashed, her scream cut short as fur melted into skin. The wolf shifted into a man tall, muscled, with wild auburn hair and tattoos of ancient runes snaking across his bare chest. Kai Blackwood, though she didn’t know his name yet, pinned her arms, his grip bruising, his breath hot against her face. “Got you, heiress,” he growled, his voice rough with contempt, though his amber eyes flickered with something softer curiosity, perhaps, or recognition. “Thought you could trespass in our territory?” The pack circled, their snarls a menacing chorus, their eyes glowing like embers in the moonlight. Elara kicked, defiance flaring despite the fear clawing her chest. “Let me go, or my father will burn this mountain to ash!” Her voice trembled she knew her father would sooner see her dead than lose his leverage, but she’d die before admitting it. Kai’s laugh was bitter, sharp as a blade. “Your father’s the reason we’re here, Voss.” He hauled her up, dragging her through the forest as the pack flanked them, their forms shifting seamlessly between wolf and human, a dance of predator and prey. Elara’s struggles were futile; Kai’s strength was unyielding, his fingers digging into her arms like iron. The journey blurred into a nightmare of jagged cliffs, icy streams, and howling winds, the lost map a fading hope. Her mind raced, replaying her father’s cold words: “You’ll serve the empire, Elara, one way or another.” She’d rather die than be his pawn, but the wolves’ grip tightened her fate. They reached Wolfsbane Keep, a fortress carved into the mountain’s heart, its stone walls towering like a prison under the blood moon’s glow. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting long shadows as Kai shoved her through a heavy gate. The air grew damp and cold as they descended into the keep’s bowels, and Elara was thrown into a dank cell, the iron door slamming shut with a clang that echoed like a death knell. Her wrists were bound in silver chains, and a searing pain erupted, sharp and unnatural, drawing a hiss from her lips. The burn sank into her bones, unlike any pain she’d known. She’d worn silver jewelry in her father’s mansions bracelets, necklaces without issue. Why did these chains feel like fire? The question gnawed at her as she slumped against the cold stone wall, exhaustion warring with terror. Footsteps echoed, deliberate and heavy, and the door swung open. Thorne Blackwood filled the space like a storm, his broad shoulders blocking the torchlight. The alpha of the Blackwood pack was a tower of muscle and menace, his scarred jaw and obsidian eyes radiating cold authority. His black hair was tied back, revealing a face both brutal and beautiful, like a blade honed to kill. “Elara Voss,” he said, her name a growl that sent a shiver down her spine. He stepped closer, his scent pine, musk, and something wild overwhelming, stirring a heat in her core she despised herself for feeling. “The blood moon has spoken. You’re our fated mate.” Elara’s laughter was sharp, edged with disbelief. “Fated mate? I’m no one’s property, wolf.” But the silver’s burn pulsed, and Thorne’s gaze sharpened, as if he sensed her secret. He loomed over her, his presence a cage, his voice low and territorial. “Defy me all you want. The moon chose you for us me, Kai, Lucian. You’ll learn your place.” His hand grazed her cheek, the touch igniting a forbidden thrill despite her hatred, a spark of attraction that terrified her. “You’ll stay here,” he said, turning to leave, “until you accept what you are.” The door slammed, plunging her into darkness, the chains’ burn a relentless question. Her mind spun fated mate, blood moon, the pain in her wrists. She’d always been human, raised in her father’s sterile mansions, far from wolves and wilderness. So why did the silver sear her like a werewolf? The mystery was a knife, twisting deeper with every heartbeat. As she curled against the wall, a faint sound reached her a low, mournful howl from deep within the keep, not Kai’s, not Thorne’s, but someone else’s. A shadow passed the cell’s barred window, too quick to identify, and her breath caught. Why do the chains burn her like a wolf, when she’s always believed she’s human? And who else is watching her from the shadows?