The Alpha's Debt

Chapter 3

CLARA'S POV

"Let go of me," I demanded, ripping my arm out of the enforcer's grip as we reached the top of the basement stairs.

"Keep moving," the guard ordered, shoving me roughly between the shoulder blades and forcing me toward the heavy oak doors of the judgment room.

He pushed the doors open, revealing the massive, dimly lit office.

Alpha Miller sat behind a large mahogany desk, his hands folded neatly over a stack of financial documents.

Caleb stood off to the side, leaning his shoulder against the bookshelf and crossing his arms. He wore the exact same arrogant smirk he displayed during the rejection ceremony an hour ago.

The enforcer forced me into the center of the room and stepped back, blocking the exit.

"You packed your bags," Alpha Miller noted, gesturing toward the duffel bag slung over my shoulder. "You planned to run away."

"I planned to leave the territory," I corrected him, keeping my posture entirely rigid. "Caleb rejected me publicly and my presence here is a liability to your family's image. So I am doing you a favor by leaving."

"You do not get to leave on your own terms," Caleb interrupted, stepping away from the bookshelf. "You belong to this pack, Clara. We decide what happens to you."

"I belong to no one," I shot back, gripping the strap of my bag to keep my hands from shaking.

Alpha Miller held up his hand, silencing his son instantly. He picked up a thick legal document from his desk and slid it forward.

"The pack is completely bankrupt," Alpha Miller stated, his voice devoid of any warmth or hesitation. "Our investments in the eastern territories failed. We owe five million dollars to Julian Hayes, and the deadline for the wire transfer expired at midnight."

I suddenly felt sick in my stomach. Everyone in the region knew about Julian Hayes. He was an exiled Alpha, banished to the western mountains after a violent, unspeakable incident years ago.

The rumors painted him as a feral, bloodthirsty monster who operated a massive private investment firm.

"What does your financial ruin have to do with me?" I asked, refusing to break eye contact with the Alpha.

"Hayes sent a message thirty minutes ago," Alpha Miller explained, leaning forward and placing his elbows on the desk. "He threatened to s*******r our entire border patrol and burn this packhouse to the ground before morning if we do not settle the ledger."

"Then pay him," I said flatly.

"We don't have the cash," Caleb interjected, walking toward me and stopping just a few feet away. "But Julian operates outside of standard pack law. He accepts collateral in exchange for debt forgiveness. Property, businesses, or assets."

I looked at the legal document resting on the desk, the reality of the situation clicking into place. The sudden spike of adrenaline made my heart run wildly.

"You are selling me," I realized, stating the fact out loud.

"We are transferring your guardianship," Alpha Miller corrected smoothly, tapping his pen against the contract. "You possess no wolf, Clara. You offer no defensive value to this pack, and your continued presence is an embarrassment to my son. Julian Hayes agreed to accept a living asset to clear the five million."

"He is a monster," I told them and my voice rose with volume. "He is an exiled, violent criminal. He will kill me the second I walk into his house."

"That is his prerogative," Caleb said, his smirk returning fully. "You are worthless to us anyway. Consider this your final act of service to the pack you leached off of for twenty-one years. You finally have a purpose."

I stared at Caleb, analyzing the sheer cruelty in his eyes.

He rejected me, humiliated me in front of hundreds of people, and now he was actively sending me to a notoriously violent execution just to save his own life.

My parents died serving this pack, and this was how the leaders repaid that loyalty.

I did not scream, and I did not beg for mercy. Pleading with men who viewed me as currency was a complete waste of oxygen.

I dropped my duffel bag onto the floor, walking straight up to the mahogany desk. I picked up the black pen resting near the contract.

"Sign the bottom line," Alpha Miller instructed, pointing to the blank space.

"I will sign it on one condition," I bargained, hovering the pen over the paper. "You completely sever my ties to the southern pack. You remove my name from the registry tonight. If I survive Julian Hayes, you have absolutely no legal right to ever bring me back here."

Caleb laughed out loud, shaking his head. "You are not going to survive him, Clara. Just sign the damn paper."

"Do we have a deal?" I demanded, looking exclusively at the Alpha.

"You are officially severed from this pack," Alpha Miller agreed, his expression entirely indifferent.

I pressed the pen to the paper and signed my name rapidly, finalizing the transaction.

I dropped the pen onto the desk, turning around and picking up my bag. I walked past Caleb without looking at him, stopping right in front of the armed enforcer.

"Take me to the transport," I ordered.

The memory faded abruptly as my eyes snapped open.

I gasped for air, staring up at the ceiling of the small servant's room inside Julian's mountain estate.

I pushed the thin blanket off my legs, sitting up on the narrow cot.

The room was freezing, the concrete floors sent crazy chill through the soles of my feet as I stood.

I survived my first night.

Julian locked himself in the west wing and left me completely alone. He did not come looking for me. He did not hurt me. The horrific execution my old pack anticipated did not happen.

I walked over to the small sink in the corner of the room, splashing freezing water onto my face to wake myself up completely.

Julian issued a strict set of rules last night in the foyer. He wanted the house cleaned, he wanted his meals cooked, and he wanted me completely out of his way.

I dried my face with a rough towel and pulled my hair back into a tight knot.

If following his strict routine kept me alive and safe from Caleb, then I would become the best housekeeper on the mountain.

I opened my bedroom door and walked down the short, dim hallway toward the main living area.

The estate was completely silent, the thick walls blocked out the sounds of the wind outside.

I turned the corner and stepped into the massive, state-of-the-art kitchen, reaching for the light switch on the wall.

"Do not turn on the lights," a rough, deep voice commanded.

I froze instantly and dropped my hand away from the wall.

Julian Hayes stood on the opposite side of the large marble kitchen island.

He wore dark sweatpants and no shirt, his torso was completely covered in a chaotic web of raised, brutal scars.

He braced both hands against the edge of the counter, his broad shoulders rising and falling with uneven breathing.

He was staring directly at me through the shadows.