Chapter 2 – The Alpha’s Claim
622 Words
The gates of Crescent Hollow Pack loomed before them, carved with ancient runes that glowed faintly under the moonlight. Elara had no choice but to hang limply over Draven’s shoulder, her fists bruised from pounding against his back. He carried her like she weighed nothing, like she was just another spoil of war.
Wolves prowled at the edges of the massive walls, their glowing eyes following her every move. Low growls rumbled in their throats, vibrating in the night air like drums of judgment.
When Draven crossed the threshold of the gates, silence fell.
Dozens of pack members halted what they were doing. Every gaze snapped to the girl dangling over their Alpha’s shoulder. Shock flickered. Anger rose. Then disgust.
He set her on her feet at the center of the courtyard, his hand tightening around her wrist like a shackle.
“This is Elara,” he announced, his voice booming, deep enough to rattle her bones. “She is under my protection.”
The pack erupted at once.
“A human?”
“Impossible!”
“She’ll curse us all!”
“The Alpha has lost his mind!”
The voices overlapped in a storm of hatred, each word cutting into Elara like a blade. Her chest tightened, and for the first time, she wished the hunters had taken her instead of this nightmare.
Draven’s aura flared like fire, and the air itself seemed to bend under his dominance. His eyes glowed molten gold as he growled, “Silence.”
Instant submission. Every wolf bowed their head, trembling beneath his power. Yet their eyes still burned with suspicion.
“She is my mate,” Draven continued, his tone sharp as steel. “Question her, and you question me.”
Elara’s stomach turned. Mate? How could she be his mate? She wasn’t one of them. She wasn’t anything but… human.
Draven didn’t give her time to process. He dragged her into the towering packhouse, through wide halls lined with flickering torches and banners marked with a wolf’s sigil. The air reeked of dominance and blood.
They climbed a grand staircase until they reached a chamber larger than any place she had ever been. Dark stone walls framed a blazing hearth. A massive bed carved from blackwood stood in the center. Everything about the room screamed of power and danger.
“This is where you will stay,” Draven said, shoving her inside.
Elara spun on him, anger burning hotter than fear. “I’m not your prisoner!”
For the first time, his lips curved into something almost like a smile — sharp, dangerous, mocking. “No,” he said. “You’re my Luna. And until you understand what that means… you don’t leave these walls.”
Her hands clenched at her sides. “Why me? Why a human?”
Draven paused at the door. His broad shoulders stiffened, his head tilting slightly, like her words struck a nerve.
“You think I chose this?” His voice was low, dangerous. “The bond doesn’t care what you are. Neither does the curse.”
The door slammed with finality.
Elara staggered back until her knees hit the edge of the bed. Her chest rose and fell in shallow gasps. Outside the chamber, whispers rose again — wolves murmuring, doubting, hating.
One voice carried above the rest, sharp and female: “She won’t last a week. The Alpha will regret this.”
Elara swallowed hard, bile rising in her throat. She was trapped in a world she didn’t understand, bound to a man who terrified her, surrounded by wolves who wanted her gone.
And somewhere in the silence of that cursed bond, she felt it again — that pull. That fire in her blood.
- Writer
