Bound to the Beast

Freya I fastened the last earring into place, the delicate gold catching the light as I tilted my head. Perfect. A final touch to an already flawless look. The mirror before me reflected a woman who had everything under control. Every detail. From my tailored black blazer, the silk blouse hugging my figure, the sharp cut of my trousers, was meticulously curated. I radiated power, success, and absolute certainty. Fashion was my only love. Not in the dramatic, heart-wrenching way romance novels portrayed, but in the way a person needed oxygen to breathe. It was in my blood, in my bones, woven into my very existence. I had built Freya Laurent Designs from the ground up with nothing but raw talent and an obsessive work ethic. Now, I was the most sought-after designer of the decade. Celebrities, royalty, billionaires—they all wore my art. I had conquered New York, then Paris, then Milan, my designs gracing the covers of Vogue, Elle, and Vanity Fair. Love? Relationships? I had no time for distractions. The idea of falling for someone, of losing myself in another person, felt ridiculous. Love made people weak. Love made them compromise. And I never compromised—not in my business, and certainly not in my life. Besides, I had already seen firsthand what "love" did to people. My mother had been a hopeless romantic, giving everything she had to a man who never deserved her. And what had it gotten her? A broken heart, an empty bank account, and a daughter who had to fight to survive. I learned my lesson early. Love was fleeting. Success was permanent. That was why tonight mattered. A private fitting with Tam Tardashian. A woman so exclusive, so untouchable, that she only worked with one designer per year. If she approved of my work, it would solidify me as an untouchable force in the industry. Tam Tardashian is , a woman who dictated the fashion world like a queen seated on a throne. Working with her meant immortality—designs that would be remembered, an empire that would outlive me. I didn’t get here by luck. I had clawed my way to the top, turning my name into a brand that even the wealthiest envied. Every runway, every high-profile client, every magazine cover was proof that I had conquered an industry that swallowed people whole. I smoothed a hand over my blazer and took one final look at the mirror A slow smile curled my lips. This was my kingdom. And I was its queen. I grabbed my portfolio and phone, stepping into the warm glow of my penthouse. The space was modern, sleek—exactly like me. Large windows framed the New York skyline, the twinkling city lights below mirroring the empire I had built with my own two hands. I had earned this. Every success. Every luxury. I slid on my stilettos and headed for the door, my heart hammering in anticipation. Tonight would be a victory. Nothing could ruin it. * Alaric The city stank of human greed. I stepped out of the black sedan, adjusting the cuffs of my suit as the neon lights flickered above me. The entrance to the auction house was hidden beneath one of their high-end hotels, a place where the rich and the depraved gathered under the guise of exclusivity. To them, this was an elite event—a transaction of power and wealth. To me, it was a reminder of how pathetic humans truly were. A doorman bowed his head slightly as I approached, mistaking me for one of their own. If only he knew the kind of beast he was letting through those doors. The moment I stepped inside, the air thickened with perfume, cigar smoke, and desperation. The scent of fear—raw, tangible—threaded through it all, emanating from the ones waiting to be sold. It was disgusting. Humans bartering their own kind like cattle, all while pretending they were superior to the beasts lurking in the shadows. Hypocrites. I walked deeper into the hall, my gaze sweeping over the sea of men and women dressed in finery, indulging in the luxury of suffering. I had no interest in the merchandise being paraded around like trophies, nor in the twisted delights these people sought. I was here because I needed to be. Because I controlled the flow of human trade in my territory. Because if my pack required slaves, they would get only the best. That was the only reason I had come. And yet, as I stepped farther inside, something in the air shifted. A pull—sharp, unfamiliar—curled around my senses, making my steps slow for half a second. My instincts prickled, something deep in my core coiling like a beast on the verge of awakening. I frowned. I never second-guessed myself. Never hesitated. But as I passed through the golden archway leading to the heart of the auction, something told me tonight would not go as planned. Then, the heavy doors shut behind me, sealing me in with the darkness. "Alpha," a voice murmured to my right. I turned slightly, recognizing Viktor, one of my most trusted enforcers. He was dressed in a fitted black suit, blending seamlessly with the other wealthy predators in the room, but his sharp eyes and rigid stance betrayed his purpose. "Everything is in place. No threats spotted so far." "Good." My voice was calm, controlled. It always was. "And the inventory?" Viktor’s mouth curled into something close to a smirk. "Premium stock, they say. A few are being kept in private viewing rooms for the highest bidders." I gave a slow nod, my attention flicking toward the main stage where the next unfortunate soul was about to be paraded. Humans. Weak. Desperate. So easily broken. And yet, despite my certainty in their insignificance, the strange pull inside me refused to fade. Viktor shifted slightly, voice dropping lower. "There are whispers that the Northern Pack is looking to expand into our borders. They've been sending scouts." My jaw tightened. "They wouldn’t dare." "Wouldn't they? Their Alpha is reckless. Young. He thinks he can challenge you." A low growl rumbled in my throat, but I suppressed it before it could draw attention. "Let him try. I'll remind him why my name is feared." Viktor nodded once. "Shall I make arrangements?" "Not yet. I want confirmation first. If they're planning something, we won't react like fools. We'll crush them before they get the chance." Viktor smirked. "As expected." I turned back to the stage, exhaling slowly. The auctioneer was preparing for the next sale, his voice booming through the chamber. I had more important matters to focus on than the squabbles of lesser wolves. Tonight was business. Nothing more. Freya A black limousine idled outside, its sleek body reflecting the glow of the streetlights. My driver, Harris, was already waiting, his posture stiff and professional. I descended the steps of my penthouse, the familiar hum of the city filling my ears. The scent of rain lingered in the air, mingling with the distant aroma of street food and expensive cologne. New York. My kingdom. The air outside was crisp, the scent of rain lingering from earlier in the evening. The streets hummed with life—horns honking, people laughing, the faint melody of street performers in the distance. I barely noticed the black sedan parked at the curb, its tinted windows catching the glow of the streetlights. I barely noticed the way the driver shifted, standing straighter as I approached. But then… something felt off. A prickle of unease crawled up my spine. I tightened my grip on my portfolio, forcing myself to exhale. Nerves. That’s all it was. A deal this big would make anyone anxious. As I reached the curb, Harris moved to open the door for me. “Big night?” he asked, his tone light but respectful. “The biggest,” I said smoothly, stepping forward. A sharp prickle danced along my spine. A sensation so sudden, so unnatural, that my steps faltered. I reached for the car door handle A hand clamped over my mouth. My body seized. Panic burst through my veins, sharp and blinding. Harris was still holding the door open, his gaze flicking past me. Just for a second. Just long enough for my stomach to turn. Run. The thought came too late. I thrashed, my heel slamming down onto a foot. A curse ripped through the air. Arms locked around my torso, dragging me backward. My heart exploded in terror. I thrashed, elbowing my attacker, my nails digging into flesh. But another set of hands wrenched my arms back, yanking me against a hard chest. A rough voice cursed. “Damn, she’s a fighter.” I tried to scream, but the hand over my mouth pressed harder. No. No, this isn’t happening. Something cold and metallic snapped around my wrists. Cuffs. Adrenaline surged through me. I kicked out, heels slamming into a shin. A grunt of pain. Good. I’d make them regret this. “Shut her up,” a deep voice ordered. A rag pressed over my nose. Sweet. Sickly. Chloroform. No. No, no, no— I fought. Clawed, kicked, bit. But my body was betraying me, the world tilting, spinning. My vision blurred, the streetlights above melting into golden streaks. My phone. It had fallen to the pavement. Screen cracked. Harris’s face was the last thing I saw. Expression blank. As if he had never known me at all. Then—darkness.