Fated To The Enemy

Chapter 2

Maddox POV

She went under faster than expected.

I watched it happen through the rearview mirror as the sedative mist filled the car. Her fists slammed against the glass, fury consuming her as her body betrayed her. Most people panicked, they begged, or just froze. Not her. She fought with everything she had. That alone told me everything I needed to know. I would have my hands full with her.

By the time we reached the factory, she was unconscious but breathing steadily. The suppressant was strong; it was wolfsbane. Overkill for a civilian. But necessary for someone like her.

“She’s out,” Viktor said from the driver’s seat.

“I know,” I replied.

The car rolled to a stop beneath the flickering industrial lights. We were surrounded by concrete and steel. But more importantly, desolate silence. This was the kind of place that was designed to swallow screams.

I stepped out of the car and waited for them to pull her out.

When the door opened, she came into focus. She had porcelain skin, which was flawless. Her lips were full and crimson red; her features were sculpted to perfection. Even with her eyes closed, she looked calm, dangerously so, like a force to be reckoned with.

She was a crescent moon wolf, of alpha blood. I knew she was well-trained, especially after what had gone down at O’Malleys. She was quick, I’d give her that.

I’d reviewed her file. Memorized it, actually. Layla Petrova, Rocky Mountain. Alpha's Daughter. Strategist. Combat honours. Known for discipline, brutality, and an unshakable moral code.

She was supposed to be difficult. I hadn’t expected this.

“Careful,” I said when one of the men slung her too roughly over his shoulder.

He scoffed. “She’s drugged. What’s she going to do?”

I stepped closer. “Wake up and kill you.”

He adjusted his grip without another word.

They strapped her into the chair in the holding room. It was reinforced with steel, wolf-grade silver restraints, and bolted to the floor.

Viktor nodded in approval. “She sure put up a fight in the bar, for a pretty little thing,” he said. “Nearly broke your nose.”

“Don't you have somewhere to be.” I snapped.

“She’ll be trouble,” he added.

“There won’t be a repeat of it,” I said. “She’ll submit... eventually.”

They cleared out, leaving the room in silence. I stayed in the shadows, watching her chest rise and fall. I was curious to see whether her reputation preceded her. Even unconscious, she looked dangerous. Like she'd wake up and gut every one of us without blinking.

She smelled like vanilla and jasmine; it was impossible to ignore.

When her eyes finally fluttered open, slowly at first, I watched as confusion flicked across them, then recognition hit, and her rage ignited.

Damn, she was a spitfire. I'm gonna enjoy this.

I couldn’t help the smirk curling at my lips.

She tested the cuffs immediately. Thrashing at them. No hesitation. No fear. Every pull, every twist of her wrists intrigued me.

Pain didn’t slow her down; it brought her to life. She was defiance in motion, and I couldn’t look away.

I stepped forward then, my boots echoing against the hard factory floor.

Her head snapped up towards me.

There it was, that look. Not panic. Not pleading. She was sizing me up.

Her gaze locked onto mine and didn’t waver. Even restrained, drugged, bleeding, she held herself like a queen in chains.

Interesting.

“Where am I?” she demanded, her voice hoarse.

“Does it matter at this point?” I replied.

She laughed once. “Oh, it matters alright.”

I circled her slowly, hands clasped behind my back. Each step was deliberate and slow. I watched her without expression, letting the silence do the work. I stopped just in front of her, close enough to be felt, and waited.

She didn’t submit, but she was smart enough to recognize I was a threat to her. She would eventually, though.

“You’ve made a huge mistake,” she threatened.

“No, I was tasked to obtain the package, you being the package. Once I’ve delivered you, my job is done,” I replied.

Her eyes burned. “You’re going to regret ever laying a hand on me.”

I let out a quiet breath of a laugh. “No one’s coming for you, princess.”

That did it. She smiled, it was slow and sinister, and knowing. “I’m not a princess.”

She leaned forward as far as the cuffs allowed. “I’m a warrior. And I don’t need anyone to come for me.”

I felt it then, that certainty, that lethal calm.

“I’m going to destroy you,” she continued evenly, “and everyone you work for. You’ll regret the day you decided to mess with me.”

I held her gaze, unblinking, my pulse steady, but my interest very much awake.

“Is that a promise?” I asked, with a smirk.

She leaned forward. “Untie me now, and you can find out. Unless you are scared?”

Despite myself, something that resembled amusement stirred within me.

I glanced at the cuffs. “As much as I’d love to see what you’ve got. I was told not to damage the package.”

My mouth curved. “So for now, you sit pretty.”

I crouched so we were eye-level. Close enough to see the faint tremor in her pupils, the drugs still wearing off. Close enough to be consumed by her scent.

Her nostrils flared.

There. That flicker.

Confusion. Curiosity. Annoyance. I was getting under her skin.

I straightened immediately.

No. That was impossible.

“You’ll be transported tomorrow,” I said. “Until then, behave.”

She smiled slowly; it almost looked predatory. “Or what?”

I met her gaze without blinking. “Or you’ll learn how unpleasant I can be.”

Her smile widened. “I’m counting on it.”

I turned and walked away before instinct did something reckless.

Behind me, I could hear as she fought against her restraints.

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough. She was just a package to be delivered—nothing more.