Marked By The Alpha

Chapter Six – Chains and Whispers

The door closed behind Arthur with a heavy thud, and the silence that followed was suffocating. Ivy sat slumped against the wall, her wrists raw from the chains, her heart racing from the fight she’d just witnessed. The image of Michael—bloodied, coughing, yet still defiant—burned behind her eyelids.

He was alive. Barely, but alive.

And only because she had begged Arthur to spare him.

Her chest tightened, the weight of guilt pressing down like another chain.

You protected him the only way you could, Selra’s voice murmured inside her, low and steady. Don’t blame yourself for Arthur’s cruelty.

Ivy closed her eyes, swallowing hard. But Michael came for me. He risked everything. And what did I do? I begged the Alpha not to kill him like some helpless damsel.

Selra growled softly. You’re not helpless. You’re trapped. That’s different. And traps can be broken.

Ivy opened her eyes, staring at the faint glow of torchlight flickering against the stone walls. She wanted to believe Selra’s words, but the truth pressed in like the cold stone around her—Arthur was too powerful.

She had felt it. The way the air itself bent to his will, the way his dominance pressed into her bones until her lungs screamed for breath. He was an Alpha unlike any she had ever known, ruthless and unyielding.

Yet when she begged him, he listened.

That terrified her most of all.

The door creaked open again. Ivy tensed, her pulse quickening. Arthur stepped inside, his dark presence filling the room. But this time, his fury was gone. His expression was composed, his movements deliberate, almost gentle.

He carried a basin of water and a cloth.

Ivy’s breath caught.

Without a word, Arthur knelt before her, dipping the cloth into the water before reaching for her wrists. She tried to pull back, but the chains rattled, leaving her no room to retreat.

“Hold still,” he said softly.

His voice was calm now, almost soothing, but Ivy didn’t trust it. She pressed her lips together, glaring at him as he wiped away the blood from her torn skin. The cool water stung, but his touch was steady, careful—too careful for a man who had nearly killed Michael minutes ago.

“Why are you doing this?” she whispered.

Arthur didn’t look up. “Because you are mine. And I take care of what is mine.”

Her stomach twisted. “That’s not care. That’s possession.”

His hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its work. “You think I don’t know the difference? You think I don’t understand what it means to claim a mate?”

“You didn’t claim me,” she snapped, her voice shaking with anger. “You stole me. You marked me against my will.”

Finally, his eyes rose to meet hers, dark and burning. “The Moon doesn’t make mistakes, Ivy. Selra chose me as much as my wolf chose her. You can fight it, deny it, curse it—but it won’t change the truth.”

Her wolf stirred, growling low in defiance. He twists destiny into chains. Don’t believe him.

Ivy’s breath came faster, her pulse racing under his gaze. She wanted to scream, to fight, to claw at him—but when his fingers brushed lightly over the mark on her neck, her body betrayed her, shivering at the contact.

Arthur’s eyes softened, just a fraction. “Do you feel that? The bond. It’s stronger than either of us. You can’t run from it.”

Tears burned in her eyes, frustration boiling inside her. “I will never love you,” she whispered, each word like a blade.

Arthur flinched—so subtle most would have missed it, but Ivy saw. For a heartbeat, his mask cracked, revealing something raw beneath. Then it was gone, replaced by cold resolve.

“You will,” he said, his voice low, dangerous with certainty. “Even if it takes the rest of your life.”

He stood, leaving the cloth and basin behind. As he moved to the door, he paused, glancing back at her.

“Rest, Ivy. Tomorrow, you’ll begin to understand.”

And then he was gone.

The room plunged back into silence. Ivy stared at the damp cloth on the floor, her wrists stinging, her heart twisting with rage and despair.

Selra’s growl cut through the quiet. He underestimates us. That is his mistake.

What choice do we have? Ivy whispered back. I’m chained, Selra. Powerless.

Not powerless. Not with me. Selra’s voice grew stronger, her presence pressing against Ivy’s mind. He thinks he’s broken us, but he’s only awakened us. The bond may tie us, but it does not define us. And bonds can be severed.

Ivy’s breath caught. Severed? How?

There was a pause, as if Selra weighed the danger of her next words. There are whispers of an ancient rite. The Severing. Few have attempted it—fewer still survived. But if we find it… if we learn the way… the mark could be undone.

Hope flickered, fragile but real.

Ivy gripped it like a lifeline. Then we’ll find it. Whatever it takes.

Selra rumbled in approval. We will not bow. Not to him. Not to fate.

For the first time since she had been dragged into Arthur’s fortress, Ivy felt something other than fear. She felt a spark.

A plan.

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Morning came harsh and unwelcoming. The guards unchained her wrists but kept close watch as they escorted her to the grand hall. The room was vast, filled with stone pillars and a long table where Arthur sat at the head, surrounded by his most loyal wolves.

Conversations hushed as Ivy was brought in. Every eye turned to her, filled with curiosity, envy, or scorn. The bond mark on her neck burned under their gazes.

Arthur gestured, and she was seated beside him, though her hands trembled. He addressed the room, his voice commanding.

“Last night, my mate was challenged. A fool sought to take her from me, and he failed. Let it be known—none will stand between me and what is mine.”

A murmur rippled through the wolves. Some nodded in approval. Others exchanged uneasy glances.

Ivy’s jaw clenched. She wanted to scream that she wasn’t his. That this wasn’t love. But surrounded by enemies, she bit her tongue, her silence burning like fire.

Arthur leaned closer, his breath brushing her ear. “They need to see us united. Do not embarrass me, Ivy.”

Her hands curled into fists under the table. Selra’s voice whispered fiercely in her mind: Patience. Let him believe you bend. The wolf who waits is the wolf who wins.

So Ivy lifted her chin, her face cold and unreadable. She would play his game—for now.

But deep inside, the vow had already been made.

She would not be broken.

She would find the Severing.

And when the time came, Arthur would regret ever thinking she belonged to him.