Claimed By The Wrong Alpha

2

"—Dad? What are you doing here?"

"—Leaving the pack without a single penny wasn't the plan, Katerine," he muttered coldly, pulling out a heavy bundle of keys. "But I'm not going to let them strip me of my title because of you either. Move."

"But…"

"—Shut up and walk once and for all."

The impact of the ice-cold metal against my ribs knocked the wind right out of me.

My father didn't take my hand or offer any comfort; he jammed the iron barrel of a heavy padlock straight into my kidneys and shoved me roughly out of the cell.

The snap of the rusted lock giving way echoed through the Iron Pits like the shot of an execution.

I stumbled over the slippery floor of moss and excrement, slamming my knee against the stone doorframe.

"—Dad... please... did Kaelen die?" I managed to articulate, choking back a groan as I tried to keep my balance.

A sharp blow to the back of my neck slammed my face against the damp wall of the corridor. The taste of saltpeter and dust flooded my mouth.

"—Shut your mouth, you useless trash!" he hissed, pressing his forearm against my throat to pin me to the stone. "Do you have any idea what it cost me to bribe the warden? I had to give him the last gold ingot from my family's reserve! My entire heritage gone to s**t because of you!"

"—You told me you would support me..." I whispered, feeling the pressure on my trachea.

"—Support you!" He laughed with a poisonous bitterness, spitting on my cheek. "I was supporting the future Luna of the Iron Frost pack. I was supporting the b***h who was going to secure my title as lifelong Grand Beta and a pension from the high nobility. But this? A wolflegs cripple who almost killed the Alpha! You're a damn liability!"

He let go of me suddenly, and I rolled onto the floor. I clutched my neck, coughing violently as I tried to force air into my burning lungs.

"—If I leave you in this pit to be beheaded at dawn, the old Alpha will strip my Beta title for complicity or for siring a defective freak," he continued, grabbing me by the hair to haul me to my feet without the slightest gentleness. The yank was so violent I felt my scalp tearing. "Your only use now is to disappear. If the pack thinks you fled to enemy territory, the blame will fall on the rogues, and I'll be able to clear my name before the Council. So you're going to move your legs, and you're going to run until your feet bleed."

We headed deep into the underground passage of the kitchens, a narrow tunnel where the castle's waste was dumped.

Halfway through, the smell of hot iron became unbearable.

On the ground, lying among the mud and animal entrails, were two sentinels.

Their throats had been slit with surgical precision; blood was still gushing from the open flesh.

"—Did you kill them?" I asked, horrified.

"—Be grateful I still have contacts in the underworld, you i***t," he spat, landing a heavy kick to my back so I wouldn't stop to look. "Walk."

We stepped out into the open air through the fissure on the northern slope. The night breeze was an icy whip that slashed across my face, but it did nothing to clear the burning in my body.

In the distance, the roar of the drunk pack echoed from the central courtyard.

Gigantic torches dyed the treetops of the pines a bloody red. They were too busy devouring roasted meat and celebrating the Solstice to notice that the ousted Beta was dragging his disgrace away from the settlement.

He dragged me along by fits and starts through the underbrush, hacking his way through the giant ferns.

My white linen ceremonial dress, the very one that hours ago seemed like the symbol of my bright future, kept catching on the thorns, tearing into filthy shreds.

We reached the banks of the Black River.

"—This is as far as I go," my father said, letting go of my arm with a shove that made me stagger at the edge of the precipice. "I'm not taking another single step with you."

"—Dad, I don't know where to go... I don't know the wild territory..." I pleaded, taking a step toward him.

The mere thought of heading alone into the darkness of the Free Lands turned my blood cold.

He took a step back as if touching me could infect him with a plague. He pulled a worn leather sheath from his belt and threw it at my feet.

The bone hilt of a hunting dagger stuck out from among the fallen leaves.

"—Take that crap and don't ever speak to me again," he declared, his face twisted in disgust. "You're going to cross the current and walk toward the Crown Hills. My brother Benjamin lives there. I sent him a raven with a note saying you were the victim of a political plot. If he has any mercy on you, he'll give you shelter. If not, I hope the vultures do a good job with your corpse."

He reached into his coat and pulled out a heavy amulet.

It was a silver medallion set with three blue stones, the only keepsake I had left of my mother.

I hoped he would have the decency to hand it to me, but he threw it straight at my chest.

The metal struck my collarbones before falling into the mud.

"—Take this piece of junk too," he spat with contempt. "It belonged to your mother, and she died bringing a useless creature like you into the world. Every time I look at that piece of silver, it makes me want to vomit."

I swallowed hard, feeling the last shred of affection or filial nostalgia rot inside my chest…

There was no pain in my gaze, only absolute dryness. I bent down, picked up the dagger, hung the medallion around my neck, and stood up with my back straight.

"—If I survive this," I said, adjusting the dagger sheath at my waist, "I will return only to watch you lose everything you have left."

He smiled with arrogant disdain and spat on the ground right at my feet.

"—To survive, you need strength, girl. And you're nothing more than cannon fodder."

A sharp, harrowing howl—the pack's alarm tone—tore through the night from the top of the castle. The cell had been discovered.

"—Get the hell out of here already!" he yelled at me, giving me a violent shove to the chest that sent me flying straight into the riverbed.

The icy water hit me like a block of concrete, knocking all the air out of my lungs.

I fell onto the rocks at the bottom, feeling the impact in my shins and palms.

The current tried to drag me toward the rapids, but I fought with my nails dug into the cobbles until I managed to stand up.

The water reached my waist, numbing my legs in a matter of seconds.

When I reached the opposite bank and dragged myself out of the river, I turned to look back.

The slope was empty. My father had already retraced his steps, ready to put on a grieved face before the Council and accuse the rogues of my escape.

I broke into a run.

The forest in neutral territory had no paths.

Thorn bushes slashed my exposed skin on my arms and face, but the adrenaline drowned out any hint of pain.

I could hear the distant barking of the Iron Frost pack's hunting wolves. They had released the trackers, and the wind was blowing against me, carrying my scent of blood straight into their nostrils.

I ran through the mud and treacherous roots, pushing my lungs to the absolute limit.

My vision was beginning to blur from exhaustion.

I made the mistake of turning my head for a split second to calculate the distance of the barking.

My foot caught in the tangle of an exposed root, and the ground disappeared beneath my body.

I was flung over the edge of a blind ravine and slammed into a vertical slope of loose rock and gravel.

The descent was a hell of blunt impacts: a rock struck me full in the left side, dry branches whipped my back, and I felt a dull, crunching snap in my ribs before crashing violently onto the flat ground at the bottom.

I lay sprawled on the bed of rotting leaves.

My mouth filled with a warm, metallic substance. I spat blood onto the mud, seeing double, unable to take a single gulp of air into my crushed chest.

"Get up, you piece of trash. Are you going to let them kill you like a dog?"

An alien voice, rasping like two stones colliding, echoed from the deepest part of my entrails.

I grit my teeth in rage, pressed my bleeding palms into the dirt, and forced myself to my knees.

The agony of my broken ribs drew a silent scream from me, but I stood up, leaning against the trunk of an ancient pine.

Above, on the crest of the ravine, the hunting torches flickered through the mist.

"Walk to the right. It smells of rot and dampness. That's where the junction is."

I tightened my fist around the bone hilt of the dagger and took three faltering steps before a beastly roar shook the wood of the tree behind me.

A massive impact threw me sideways into the mud.

Looking up, I found myself less than two meters away from a colossal black wolf.

His fur was matted with slobber, dried blood, and parasites. His eyes lacked the yellow glow of pack wolves: they were a rotting, insane reddish-orange.

A rogue Alpha.

I dragged myself backward on my elbows, feeling the wet earth slip under my nails, while the beast took a step forward, baring yellowish fangs the size of daggers, ready to tear my head off.