Alphas Prisoner Bride

The Alpha’s Claim

The great hall of Wolfsbane Keep was a cavern of flickering shadows, its stone walls draped in ancient tapestries that depicted wolves howling beneath crimson moons. Elara Voss stood chained at its center, the silver manacles searing her wrists with an unnatural burn that echoed the mystery of her capture last night. Dawn’s gray light filtered through high, narrow windows, doing little to warm the chill that clung to her bones. The pain in her wrists, a puzzle she couldn’t solve, pulsed with every heartbeat, amplifying her fear and defiance. She’d been dragged from her cell by grim faced guards, their rough hands ignoring her protests, and now she faced the pack, their eyes glinting like predators in the torchlight. At the head of the hall, on a raised dais carved with snarling wolf heads, stood Thorne Blackwood, the alpha whose cold authority had branded her as their fated mate under the blood moon’s prophecy.

Thorne’s obsidian eyes dissected her, his scarred jaw set like granite, his broad frame radiating a dominance that seemed to bend the air itself. His black hair was tied back, accentuating the brutal beauty of his face, and his presence was a storm, pulling her into its vortex despite her resistance. The pack encircled them, a sea of leather and fur, their murmurs a low growl that vibrated through the stone floor. Elara’s heart pounded, but she lifted her chin, her defiance a fragile shield against the weight of their stares. She wouldn’t cower not for Thorne, not for the pack, not for the father she’d fled, whose empire threatened these very wolves.

“You’re the prisoner bride,” Thorne declared, his voice a deep growl that echoed off the walls, silencing the pack. “The blood moon named you our mate, destined to save or doom this pack.” The words landed like a stone in her chest, heavy with prophecy and expectation. Elara’s stomach twisted, but the memory of Thorne’s touch in her cell the forbidden thrill it sparked lingered, a dangerous undercurrent she hated herself for feeling. “I’m no bride,” she spat, her voice sharp despite the chains’ burn. “And I’m not yours. I ran from one cage; I won’t trade it for another.”

A ripple of tension passed through the pack, some growling, others shifting uneasily on their feet. Thorne’s lips curved into a predator’s smile, both cruel and captivating, as he descended the dais with a grace that belied his size. He stopped inches from her, his heat overwhelming, his scent pine, musk, and wild earth flooding her senses. “You’ll learn, Elara,” he said, his growl vibrating through her bones. “Your father’s empire poisons our lands, his mines carve scars into our sacred grounds, his mercenaries hunt us like dogs. You’re the key to stopping him or joining him.”

The accusation stung, her father’s betrayal a fresh wound. Aldric Voss had raised her in sterile mansions, grooming her as a pawn for his alliances, but she’d fled his betrothal to Victor Crane, a man whose sadistic smile promised torment. “I’m not my father,” she said, her voice trembling with anger. “I ran from him, same as I’ll run from you.” The pack stirred, their growls growing louder, but a quiet voice cut through the tension like a blade. “Enough, Thorne.” Lucian Blackwood stepped forward from the crowd, the youngest brother, his lean frame draped in a scholar’s robe, his green eyes sharp behind glasses. He clutched a leather-bound book, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Thorne’s brute force, but his presence carried its own weight. “She’s not a weapon to wield,” Lucian said, his tone firm, a silent challenge to his brother.

Thorne’s glare could’ve shattered stone, but Lucian held his ground, his eyes flicking to Elara with something like concern or calculation. The tension between the brothers crackled, a fault line ready to split the pack. Elara seized the moment, wrenching at her chains despite the searing pain. The silver burned hotter, but she ignored it, lunging for the hall’s arched exit, dodging a guard’s outstretched hand. The pack roared, a cacophony of snarls and shouts, but Thorne was faster, a blur of muscle and menace. He pinned her against the cold stone wall, his body a cage, his breath hot against her neck. “You run, you die,” he growled, his voice low and territorial, but his hand on her wrist sparked something a pulse of lunar energy that surged through her veins, her vision flashing with silver light.

Elara gasped, the sensation alien yet familiar, like a memory buried deep. Thorne froze, his obsidian eyes narrowing as if he sensed it too. “What are you?” he whispered, his grip tightening, his gaze searching her face as if seeing her anew. The emotional high of their chemistry raw, unwanted crashed into fear. His touch had awakened something inside her, a power she didn’t understand, and his eyes promised he’d claim it, claim her, to secure his rule over the pack. She shoved him back, her heart racing, her voice trembling but defiant. “I’m not your pawn,” she spat, but the lunar energy still tingled in her veins, a secret her body refused to explain.

A shadow moved in the crowd, and Kai Blackwood emerged, his auburn hair wild, his tattoos stark against his skin in the torchlight. His amber eyes burned with a mix of anger and longing, fixed on Elara. “She’s not yours alone, brother,” he muttered, his voice low but sharp, cutting through the hall’s tension. The words hung heavy, a twist that deepened the mystery of her role. Thorne’s growl was feral, his hand tightening on her wrist before he released her, stepping back with a look that promised this wasn’t over. Kai’s gaze lingered on her, a storm of jealousy and desire that sent a shiver through her, complicating the already tangled web of her captivity.

The guards seized her, dragging her back toward her cell, the pack’s murmurs following like a brewing storm. Elara’s mind reeled as she stumbled through the corridors, the silver chains biting deeper, the lunar energy still pulsing faintly in her veins. The prophecy, Thorne’s claim, Kai’s cryptic words what did they mean? She’d fled her father’s control only to land in another cage, one woven with desire, danger, and a power she couldn’t name. As the cell door slammed shut, plunging her into darkness, a faint scratching sound came from the wall behind her, not stone but something softer, like claws on wood. Her breath caught, the burn of the chains mingling with a new fear. What did Kai mean by “She’s not yours alone”? And what was making that sound in the walls of her cell?