Fenrir leaned in closer, his breath hot and heavy against Freya's ear. "You see, my dear," he whispered in a taunting tone, "you are mine, and there's no escape."
With a swift, deliberate motion, Fenrir sliced a deep, precise mark into Freya's chest.
She stifled a scream, the pain searing through her body as blood welled from the wound.
But it wasn't just any wound.
It was the mark of the Alpha—a dark, ancient symbol that bound her to Fenrir's will. A symbol that would forever change her destiny.
As Fenrir withdrew his claw, he looked down at the mark, his eyes filled with triumph. "Now, you will fulfill your purpose," he declared, his voice dripping with malevolence.
Freya, trembling and weakened, could only watch as her world spiraled into darkness, her fate now intertwined with the merciless Alpha who had claimed her as his own.
