The Alpha’s Claim
787 Words
Zoey
I wake gasping, arms flailing, heart pounding like a war drum.
No mildew. No boot to the ribs. No shrieking Luna overhead.
Just… silence.
Too silent.
My body jerks upright on instinct, knees hitting plush carpet. Carpet?
I brace for pain anyway. For screaming. For blood.
But it doesn’t come.
My breaths come shallow, uneven. I don’t lift my head—too many years trained me not to. But I feel it: the weight of the air, thick with dominance. Someone’s watching.
My eyes flicker to the floor. Not dusty boards, but soft, pristine carpet under my bare feet. I risk a glance upward, chest tight. The bed behind me is massive. Sheets unwrinkled. Expensive. Clean.
This isn’t the attic.
The oversized hoodie and soft sweats clinging to my body make me flinch. I don’t remember putting them on. Who touched me?
Panic grips my throat.
I force myself to scan the room — then freeze.
He’s there. Sitting in the shadows. Like a wolf waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. Arms spread across the back of a leather sofa, legs spread wide, posture relaxed — but the tension rolling off him is volcanic.
His golden eyes are molten steel, watching me like I’m prey.
Alpha Kieran.
The ruthless conqueror. The destroyer of my pack. The name whispered in nightmares and battlefield prayers.
And he’s real. Right here. Watching me.
Mia stirs violently inside me, snarling with something like recognition. Or hunger.
“You move like a whipped dog,” he says coldly. “Is that what you are?”
His voice is velvet-wrapped daggers. Calm, deadly. I flinch anyway.
“N-no,” I stammer, my voice humiliatingly soft. “I… I’m Zoey.”
His brows lift, unimpressed. “That’s a name. Not an answer.”
I swallow hard, fists clenching at my sides. “I’m the pack omega.”
He leans forward, elbows on his knees, studying me. “You were born of Alpha blood… yet you crawl like you’re nothing.”
Shame scorches through me, swift and merciless. I look away.
He stands.
And suddenly he’s in front of me, towering over me, the energy pouring off him so intense I can barely breathe.
“You reek of fear,” he growls. “But not weakness. What are you hiding?”
“I don’t—” I start, but the air shifts.
Kieran’s hand lifts, not to strike… but to touch my face. I freeze. His fingers graze my cheek, and I hate the way my body reacts — burning, shaking, wanting.
Mia howls in my chest.
He jerks his hand back like he felt it too.
“Get up,” he orders. “You’re not a prisoner. But you are mine now.”
His words crash into me like a blade. “Yours?”
“You were part of the enemy. Now, you’re under my rule. That makes you mine to use. Or to destroy.”
He turns sharply and walks out.
And I follow. I don’t know why. Maybe I want answers. Maybe I want to prove something. Maybe it’s the mate pull that has Mia clawing at my insides.
We emerge into chaos.
Training grounds stretch across the compound, warriors clashing, snarling, bleeding — this isn’t discipline. It’s war prep.
Heads turn as we pass. I hear them.
“The broken omega.”
“She’s the Alpha’s pet now?”
“She should’ve died with her pack.”
Their words don’t sting — they slice. But I keep walking.
Kieran stops suddenly. “They think you’re weak,” he murmurs. “You going to prove them right?”
Before I can respond, something surges inside me. Hot. Violent. Electric.
A pulse of energy shoots down my spine. The world spins. I clutch my chest. Visions slam into my skull—chains, fire, a figure screaming my name.
Mia’s voice is a scream: It’s starting.
I fall to my knees.
Hands grab me. Kieran. His grip is vice-like. His eyes… they’re glowing.
“What did you just do?” he snarls, yanking me upright.
“I— I don’t know,” I gasp. “It just— it’s never happened before.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
“You’re hiding something,” he snaps, eyes burning into mine. “And I will rip it out of you if I have to.”
Then—
A howl splits the sky.
Everything freezes.
A second one follows. Closer. Louder.
Kieran’s grip tightens. His voice drops to a deadly whisper. “Someone’s coming. And they’re coming for you.”
My blood turns cold.
And for the first time since waking here, I realize…
This wasn’t a rescue.
It was a reckoning.
- Writer
