Owned and Claimed by the Ruthless Alpha's

The smell of freedom was distinct. It didn't smell like pine, or rain, or the musky, over-testosteroned scent of the bunkhouse. It smelled like gasoline and old upholstery. It smelled like the beat-up 1998 sedan waiting for me three miles past the pack border. I stared at the duffel bag on my narrow bed. It was pathetic, really. Eighteen years of life condensed into three pairs of jeans, a handful of shirts, a stolen wad of cash, and a photo of a mother I barely remembered. "Going somewhere, Mutt?" My spine stiffened. I didn't need to turn around to know who was leaning against my doorframe. Elena. My stepsister, and the reigning queen of making my existence a living hell. I zipped the bag shut, my fingers trembling only slightly. "It’s a free country, Elena. By pack law, as of three hours ago, I’m a legal adult. I’m leaving." Elena laughed. It was a sharp, brittle sound, like glass breaking in a sink. She walked into the room—my room, which was essentially a glorified closet off the laundry room—and kicked the leg of the bed. "You think you can just walk out?" She sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. She was beautiful in that textbook, high-maintenance werewolf way: glossy hair, predatory eyes, and a soul made of rot. "Father isn't going to like his free labor walking out the door. Who’s going to scrub the floorboards? Who’s going to sort the inventory?" "You have hands," I said, slinging the bag over my shoulder. "Learn to use them." I expected a slap. I braced for it. But Elena just smiled, a slow, malicious curling of her lips. "Go ahead then," she said, stepping aside. "Run, Natalie. But remember, once you cross that border, you’re a Rogue. And we hunt Rogues for sport on Tuesdays." I brushed past her, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. "I’d rather be hunted than stay here one more night." I walked out of the house, the cool night air hitting my face. The main compound was buzzing. It was the night of the Lunar Summit, which meant the Alpha’s mansion was swarming with visiting dignitaries and high-ranking wolves. Security at the main gate would be tight, impenetrable. But I knew the blind spots. I pulled my hood up, sticking to the shadows of the trellis. My exit route was insane, but it was the only one they wouldn’t monitor. The Alpha’s private wing. Xander Blackwood didn't allow guards inside his personal quarters; he was arrogant enough to believe he didn't need them. If I could cut through the gardens, shimmy up the ivy to the second-floor balcony, and cut through the hallway, I could drop down the service chute on the west side and be in the woods in ten minutes. It was risky. It was stupid. It was my only shot. The climb was grueling. The ivy tore at my palms, but the adrenaline numbing my pain receptors kept me moving. I hauled myself over the stone railing of the balcony, landing in a breathless crouch. The Alpha’s office was dark. Perfect. I crept toward the glass doors, intending to slip through the adjacent hallway. But as I reached for the handle, a voice—low, baritone, and vibrating with suppressed rage—stopped me dead. "You cannot be serious, Silas. We don't have the liquidity." I froze. The office wasn't empty. "It’s not about liquidity, Xander," a second voice replied. This one was smoother, older. The Beta. "It’s about the Eastern Alliance. If Varrick finds out that our defensive wards are failing, he won't just sanction us. He’ll invade. The pack is vulnerable. The hybrid blood supply you promised the Council... it doesn't exist, does it?" My breath hitched. Hybrid blood supply? "Keep your voice down," Xander hissed. The sound of a heavy glass slamming onto a desk echoed through the glass. "I am handling Varrick. But the wards... the wards require a sacrifice of lineage we no longer possess. Unless we find a catalyst, Blackwood falls within the month." "So, we’re lying to the Council? And to Varrick?" "We are buying time," Xander corrected cold steel in his tone. "If Varrick finds out we are defenseless, he will slaughter the men and enslave the women. I will not let that happen. Even if I have to burn the treaties to ash." I backed away slowly. This wasn't just pack gossip. This was treason. This was the kind of secret that got people killed. If the Alpha knew I heard this—that his pack was defenseless and he was lying to the most dangerous Warlord in the territories—I wouldn't just be hunted. I’d be erased. I took a step back. My heel caught on a loose planter. Scrape. The sound was microscopic. A whisper of rubber against stone. In the human world, it would have gone unnoticed. But these weren't humans. The conversation inside stopped instantly. I didn't wait. I spun around, ready to vault back over the balcony railing. The glass doors exploded outward. I didn't even have time to scream. A hand, large and impossibly strong, clamped around the back of my neck. I was hauled off my feet and dragged into the room, thrown onto the Persian rug with enough force to knock the wind out of me. I gasped, scrambling backward until my back hit the heavy oak desk. The lights flickered on. Standing above me was Alpha Xander Blackwood. I had never seen him this close. He was terrifying. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, the jacket discarded, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal the corded muscle of his neck. He was tall, broad, and radiated a predatory heat that made the air in the room feel heavy and thick. His eyes were the color of storm clouds, and right now, they were focused entirely on me. "Well," Xander said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "What do we have here?" Silas, the Beta, stepped forward, his face pale. "That’s the hybrid girl. From the kitchens." "I know who she is," Xander murmured. He didn't look at Silas. He crouched down, bringing his face level with mine. The scent of him—sandalwood, rain, and lethal power—flooded my senses. It made my hybrid instincts recoil in terror. "Please," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I was just... I was leaving. I didn't hear anything." Xander tilted his head. He reached out, his fingers rough and warm, and gripped my chin. He forced me to look him in the eye. "Your heart is beating one hundred and forty times a minute," Xander said softly. "Your pupils are dilated. And you smell like fear and deception." His thumb brushed my lower lip, a gesture that felt less like a caress and more like he was testing the quality of livestock. "You heard everything." "I won't tell anyone," I choked out. tears pricking my eyes. "I just want to go. I’m nobody. Who would believe me?" "Kade Varrick would believe you," Xander countered. "He pays handsomely for spies. A pretty little thing like you, running to the Eastern borders with secrets about my failing wards? You could buy your freedom with that information." "I wouldn't—" "I can't take that risk." He stood up, towering over me. He looked at Silas. "Kill her?" Silas asked, his hand drifting to the concealed blade at his waist. My blood ran cold. I pressed myself against the wood of the desk, looking for a weapon, a letter opener, anything. Xander looked at me. He studied me for a long, agonizing moment. He looked at the duffel bag I was still clutching. He looked at the bruises on my arm—fresh ones from Elena’s grip yesterday. Then, his eyes narrowed. "No," Xander said. Silas frowned. "Alpha, she’s a liability. If she talks—" "She won't talk," Xander said. A dark, twisted smile touched his lips. It didn't reach his eyes. "Because she’s going to be too busy trying to survive me." He extended a hand toward me. It wasn't an offer of help; it was a command. "Get up." I hesitated. "I said, get up." The Alpha command rolled off him, slamming into my chest. My body obeyed before my mind could protest. I scrambled to my feet, trembling. Xander stepped into my personal space. He was so close I could feel the heat radiating off his chest. He leaned down, his lips brushing my ear. "You wanted to leave, Natalie? You wanted to run away and play human?" I swallowed hard, unable to speak. "Change of plans," he whispered. "You are now my personal aide. You will move into the suite adjoining mine. You will organize my life, you will serve my meals, and you will attend every meeting I sit in on. I am going to keep you so close that I will hear every breath you take." "You can't do that," I whispered, finding a shred of courage. "I’m eighteen. I’m a free woman." Xander pulled back, his grey eyes turning to ice. "You are a spy caught in my office during a time of war," he said, his voice devoid of humanity. "I can execute you right here on this rug and no one would blink. Those are your options, Hybrid. Service... or death." He waited, the silence stretching until it felt like a physical weight. "Well?" he prompted. I looked at the window. The woods were right there. Freedom was right there. I looked back at Xander. I saw the cruelty in his eyes, but I also saw the intelligence. He owned me. If I ran, he’d hunt me down. If I stayed, I was walking into the lion's den. "I’ll work for you," I said, my voice barely audible. Xander smirked. He reached out and plucked the duffel bag from my shoulder. He walked over to the trash can and dropped it inside. "Good choice," he said. He turned back to his desk, dismissing my entire existence with a wave of his hand. "Report to my chambers at 0600 hours. Do not be late. And Natalie?" I paused at the door, my hand on the frame, my heart feeling like it was bleeding out in my chest. "Yes?" He didn't look up from his papers. "If you ever try to run again," he said, "I won't send the guards. I’ll come for you myself."