4-The Alpha And His Pawn
1182 Words
Lena’s POV
My father didn’t care if I died.
He made them shoot arrows at me, and now my love… I gulped… was dead.
I lay on the ground, blood seeping from my busted lip, staining the wooden floor beneath me. My wrists throbbed where the silver burned into my skin, but none of it compared to the ache in my chest.
Ciaran was gone.
The tears wouldn’t stop. They rolled down my cheeks as my body shook with silent sobs.
His smile flashed in my mind. The way he used to pull me close, whisper against my skin, promise me forever.
His laughter.
His kisses.
Gone.
I curled into myself, biting down on my tongue, trying to smother the grief threatening to consume me. But it was useless. I was alone now. Truly alone.
The days blurred together after that.
They threw me into a carriage, the chains on my wrists keeping me weak. The only thing they gave me was water—no food, no kindness, just the cold metal bars keeping me locked away like an animal.
Not that I could eat anything though.
Every time I tried to swallow, my throat closed up.
The hunger clawed at my stomach, but the grief was heavier.
I wanted to sleep and never wake up.
But fate had other plans.
On the third day, I forced myself to lift my head. The carriage wheels slowed, the air growing colder.
Through the tiny window, I saw it.
Shadowfang Dominion.
A land of monsters.
No one was let in unless you are special. And No one left.
A brutal, wicked kingdom ruled by fear.
Beyond the towering gates, jagged cliffs framed the fortress, casting long shadows across the stone. The scent of blood and damp earth clung to the air, thick and suffocating. The warriors patrolling the walls weren’t just soldiers—they were killers, bred for war, their armor dark and worn from countless battles.
But it was the border that sent ice through my veins.
Bones.
Hanging from wooden spikes, sun-bleached and hollow.
Human. Wolf. The remains of those who had dared to challenge the Kin Slayer.
Roman Draven had built his empire on corpses.
And I was next.
I exhaled, pressing my forehead against the cold iron bars.
So, it was true.
He had killed his family.
Now, it was my turn.
***
The carriage came to a stop. The doors flung open, and before I could react, hands grabbed me, yanking me forward. My legs nearly buckled, but they didn’t care. They dragged me through the gates, past the bones, past the silent, watching wolves.
The fortress loomed before me, massive and screams evil, its black-stone walls rising into the sky like a prison built from the earth itself. The air here felt heavier. Like the very ground was soaked in old blood.
The doors swung open.
I was shoved inside.
The hall was nothing like I expected.
Not dark. Not cold.
Grand.
Beautiful paintings lined the walls, deep reds and golds that spoke of old wealth and power. A massive chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting flickering light over polished marble floors. Everything was clean and refined.
And then I saw him.
Roman Draven.
He stood at the far end of the hall, watching me like a wolf watching prey.
Handsome. Unfairly handsome.
Dressed in black, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to hint at His defined collarbone beneath. His dark hair was tied back loosely, silver eyes shining under the light.
Tall. Ruthless. Terrifyingly composed.
A predator in fine silk.
He took one slow step forward, then another, his gaze sweeping over me.
I lifted my chin, refusing to look away.
His lips curled—not a smile. Something colder.
“I could smell your filth and the scent of another man on you from miles away,” he said smoothly.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch.
I would not flinch.
I had lost everything. I had nothing left to fear.
The guards shoved me forward.
Lena’s POV
I didn’t move.
I didn’t kneel.
I didn’t bow my head.
I would not be intimidated.
Roman’s eyes darkened.
Interesting.
He grinned, his voice smooth, almost amused. “You have dead eyes, my love. It suits you. Better than doe-eyed love, meaning you know what to expect.”
I didn’t reply.
A guard growled behind me. “The king is talking to you.”
A rough hand clamped onto my shoulder, fingers digging in hard. My body tensed, rage bubbling beneath my exhaustion.
Before I could snap, Roman raised a hand. “No. Remove those hands from her.”
The air in the room shifted.
In a blink, he was in front of the guards, so fast I barely saw him move.
His presence changed when he was close—no longer amused, no longer relaxed. A silent force of nature standing between me and the i***t who had touched me.
His voice dropped to something sharper, colder. “You do not touch her unless I say so.”
The guard immediately removed his hand, bowing his head. “Apologies, Alpha—”
Roman moved before the man finished speaking.
A fist met his jaw, a sickening crack echoing through the hall.
The guard collapsed onto the marble floor, groaning, spitting blood.
Roman barely glanced down. “Let that be a lesson.”
The room fell into silence.
The power he held over them was absolute. They feared him.
He turned back to me, silver eyes searching, as if reading something in my expression.
I refused to look away.
A slow smirk curled his lips.
“You hate me already.”
I said nothing.
He took a step closer, tilting his head. “That’s good.”
He was toying with me. Testing me.
I knew this game.
I had played it with my father.
So, I smiled, a bitter, broken thing. “I don’t care enough to hate you.”
Roman’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered behind his eyes.
Approval.
He turned slightly, waving a lazy hand. “Bring him in.”
The large double doors at the end of the room swung open.
Footsteps.
Heavy. Measured. Controlled.
I didn’t understand why my heart clenched so suddenly.
Until I saw him.
Until Ciaran stepped into the room.
My breath hitched.
I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
No.
No, this wasn’t real.
I swayed slightly, my vision blurring.
“Ciaran?” My voice was barely a whisper.
He didn’t react.
He didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t look at me.
I took a step forward, my throat tightening. “Ciaran…”
He was dressed in all black, his usual warmth erased, his golden eyes dull.
Dead inside.
Wrong.
My hands shook. “You’re alive…”
Still, nothing.
His posture was rigid, his face blank.
Like I was no one.
Like I never meant anything to him.
The pain was instant. A different kind of agony, worse than the chains, worse than the beating.
I stumbled back, my entire body going cold.
Roman exhaled, amused.
“It seems you know each other.”
- Writer
