CLAIMED BY FIVE ALPHAS

Blood never makes a sound when it falls, but tonight, its silence was louder than the storm outside the window. My father coughed, and in an instant, the burgundy carpet in his study turned almost completely black. “Dad ... please, hold on. I already pressed the emergency button. The police will—” “No police are coming, Seraphina,” my father cut me off. His voice was hoarse, trembling from the pain he was trying to swallow. His cold, shaking hand gripped my wrist with frightening strength. “Listen to me. We’re out of time.” I shook my head hard. Tears fell from my eyes, mixing with the blood covering my fingers as I tried to press down on the deep wound in his chest. It was too large. Too deep. Whatever had torn through his chest, it was no ordinary knife. “You have to run,” he whispered, his fading eyes staring at me with a desperation that tore my heart apart. “Tonight... they will start hunting.” “Who? Who is hunting me? What are you talking about?!” I screamed hysterically. My father took a breath, and a horrible rattling sound came from his lungs. “If five men come looking for you... run. Trust none of them. Because their love is the most beautiful way to die.” The reinforced wooden door behind me exploded into pieces. It wasn't kicked down. It was blown apart. The force threw me into the corner of the room. My vision blurred, and a loud ringing filled my ears. Through the dust and flying pieces of wood, a man walked inside. He wasn't wearing a mask. He wore a perfectly tailored suit that looked far too expensive for someone who had come to kill a man. His face was handsome, but the smile on his lips was the smile of a devil who had just found his favorite toy. “What a touching family drama,” the man said. His voice was smooth, filled with mockery that made my blood boil. He walked forward casually, completely ignoring me, and stopped right in front of my father's fallen body. The man raised his foot and stepped directly onto my father's wound without mercy. My father let out a strangled scream. That sound would stay in my memory for the rest of my life. “Stop! Let him go, you bastard!” I tried to crawl forward and grabbed the bronze vase beside me, but one of the man's men kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me crashing to the floor again as I vomited bile. The man in the suit turned toward me, his smile growing wider. “A father's love is always amusing. They think sacrifice can change fate. Look at this man, Miss Vale. Look at how your little king dies like a stray dog.” He crouched down, grabbed my father's hair, and forced his face upward before looking straight into my eyes. “Watch carefully. This is the price of the secret he kept from you.” “Don't...” My voice was nothing more than a desperate, broken whisper. “I'll give you anything you want. Money, assets, everything! Please, just let him live!” The man laughed softly. It was a beautiful laugh, and a cruel one. “Money?” He let out an amused scoff. His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver knife with strange curved engravings that gave off a faint glow. “Humans always think the world revolves around money. Too bad your father owes a debt that must be paid with extinction.” He looked at my father. “Any last words, Alaric?” My father looked at me. There was no fear in his eyes. Only love, so great that it felt like my chest was about to break apart. His lips moved without a sound, forming a single sentence that shattered my entire world. I love you, Seraphina. The silver knife plunged straight into my father's heart. It twisted slowly before being pulled out with one brutal jerk. “NOOOOO!” My scream tore through the air. I didn't care about the pain in my stomach. I lunged forward, scratching, biting, and hitting anything I could reach, but the man's men held me back with ease, forcing me to watch as my father took his final breath in a pool of his own blood. His eyes remained open, staring blankly at the ceiling. The man wiped his knife on my father's blood-soaked suit before standing up. He looked at me as if I were nothing more than an annoying insect. “Take care of the girl. Throw her body into the sea.” He turned to leave. I stared at his back with a hatred so deep that it burned through every inch of my sanity. If hell was real, I would drag him there with my own hands. Two of his men pulled me to my feet. One of them pressed the cold barrel of a gun against my temple. I closed my eyes. I'm coming, dad. But the trigger was never pulled. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped. The chandelier above us flickered wildly before finally exploding, leaving the room in darkness that was illuminated only by flashes of lightning from the storm outside. The air became unbearably heavy. So heavy that it felt as if my lungs were being crushed under concrete. The cold smell of rain mixed with the scent of metal, blood, and something else that was wild, ancient, and utterly inhuman. Then came the horrifying sound of flesh being torn apart. The man holding the gun to my temple suddenly disappeared. A heavy impact struck the wall, followed by the sound of bones being crushed. Hysterical screams filled the room, but they weren't mine. They were the screams of the killers. In the flash of lightning, I saw a massive shadow tearing through them as if they were nothing more than wet paper. There were no return shots. No resistance. Only absolute slaughter. The man in the expensive suit didn't even have time to beg before his body was thrown through the giant glass window and fell into the darkness below the cliff where our house stood. A deadly silence fell over the room again. Only the sound of the storm and heavy breathing remained in the darkness. Someone was standing among the pile of bodies. His body towered over them. His boots stood on the blood-soaked floor. When he turned toward me, I held my breath. Those eyes. They were not human. They glowed with a sharp golden light, wild, fierce, and deadly. The man stepped toward me, very slowly, as if he were approaching prey that had nowhere left to run. His wet silver hair clung to his forehead, while the blood of his enemies stained his hard jaw, framing a face that was unbelievably handsome and infinitely cruel. I backed away, trembling violently, until my back hit the stone wall. He stopped only inches from me. The heat radiating from his body seemed to burn through the cold air around me. His large hand, the same hand that had just taken lives without hesitation, rose and pressed against the wall right beside my head, trapping me completely. He stared straight into my soul. His eyes narrowed, and his broad chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. There was a war in his eyes—a battle between wild desire and deep hatred. Then, with a rough, heavy voice filled with demanding possession, the man growled one word that turned the rest of my life into hell. “Mate.”