Elara had always known fear.
She had felt it in the eyes of the villagers when they looked at her. She had felt it in the whispers that followed her like a shadow. But nothing—nothing—compared to the fear that curled inside her now.
Because now, she was inside his den.
The Alpha's chamber was massive, but the space between them felt suffocating. The walls flickered with firelight, the stone floors stretching wide, trapping her within his domain.
And he—he was watching her.
Standing near the hearth, his back to the flames, his silver eyes never wavered. He hadn't spoken since his last words.
"Now, you survive."
The weight of them still pressed against her ribs.
Survive.
Elara's throat tightened. The moment he had broken her chains, she knew—this wasn't a mercy.
This was something else entirely.
She swallowed hard, shifting her weight slightly. His gaze flicked to the movement, sharp and predatory.
Every instinct screamed at her to stay still.
The silence stretched.
Elara clenched her fists, forcing her voice to remain even. "What do you want from me?"
The Alpha tilted his head slightly, as if considering her. "You were chosen."
A vague answer.
She frowned, masking the unease slithering through her. "And the others weren't?"
"They were weak."
The words were delivered without emotion, as if he were commenting on the weather. As if their deaths meant nothing.
Elara's stomach twisted. She should have felt relief that she had been spared, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe she was safe. There was no safety here.
Her voice hardened. "If I'm not weak, then what am I?"
The Alpha took a single step forward.
Elara didn't move, but she felt it—the shift in power.
He was massive up close, his presence thick, suffocating. He wasn't just a man. He wasn't just a wolf.
He was something else entirely.
And then—he smirked.
Elara's breath caught. It wasn't a friendly smile. It was something cold, knowing.
"Brave," he murmured.
Not a compliment.
A warning.
Her heart hammered as he reached forward—fast.
Elara barely had time to react before his fingers wrapped around her wrist.
A sharp, sizzling heat raced up her arm, forcing a gasp from her lips. Her knees nearly buckled.
It felt like fire. Like something raw and ancient crackling beneath her skin.
She tried to pull back, but his grip tightened, forcing her still.
"What—" she gasped. "What are you—?"
His silver eyes burned into hers.
Testing. Measuring.
And then, as suddenly as he had grabbed her, he released her.
Elara stumbled back, cradling her wrist, her skin tingling from the touch.
The Alpha watched her.
Then he turned away.
"You'll find out soon enough."
---
The Cage of the Palace
She didn't sleep that night.
The Alpha had left without another word, the door slamming shut behind him. The lock clicked into place.
A cage.
She was inside a gilded cage.
Elara sat on the edge of the large, fur-covered bed, her pulse still uneven. She traced her wrist absently, where his touch still lingered.
It hadn't been painful.
Not exactly.
It had been something else. Something she didn't understand.
Outside, the wind howled against the stone walls of the keep. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled back.
Elara shivered.
This place… it was unlike anything she had ever seen. It was massive, ancient, foreboding.
And she was alone in it.
Alone with him.
She wasn't sure which was worse.
---
The First Morning
The knock came at dawn.
Elara startled awake, barely realizing she had fallen asleep. The heavy wooden door creaked open before she could answer.
A woman entered.
Older, but not frail. Her silver-streaked hair was braided neatly, and her sharp eyes assessed Elara in an instant.
"You'll need to dress," the woman said.
Elara frowned. "For what?"
The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "For breakfast with the Alpha."
The air in the room shifted.
Elara's stomach twisted.
Breakfast. With him.
---
A Seat at the Table
She was led through the winding corridors of the keep, past towering stone archways and flickering torches. The scent of roasted meat and warm bread filled the air, but it did little to settle her nerves.
The dining hall was empty when she arrived.
Or so she thought.
Because the moment she stepped inside, a deep, measured voice filled the space.
"You're late."
Elara stiffened.
The Alpha sat at the far end of the massive wooden table, a goblet in one hand, his other arm draped lazily over the chair.
Waiting.
His silver eyes met hers, unreadable.
Elara hesitated.
The woman beside her nudged her forward.
She forced her feet to move.
One step. Then another.
She lowered herself onto the chair across from him, her back straight, her hands curling into her lap to hide the tremor in her fingers.
The tension in the air was thick.
The Alpha said nothing at first.
Then, finally—
"You didn't eat last night."
A statement, not a question.
Elara forced a shrug. "Wasn't hungry."
A flicker of something—amusement, maybe?—crossed his face.
Then he nodded toward the food before them.
"Eat."
It wasn't a request.
Elara hesitated.
Then, with slow, deliberate movements, she reached for a piece of bread and tore off a small bite.
The Alpha watched her the entire time.
It was unnerving, the way his gaze never wavered, like a predator waiting for its prey to make the wrong move.
Finally, he spoke.
"You're different."
Elara's fingers paused on the bread. "Am I?"
"You don't beg," he said simply. "The others always begged."
Something dark curled in her chest. "Maybe I already know it wouldn't work."
The Alpha smirked.
A slow, dangerous thing.
And then, as if it were nothing at all, he said:
"You're mine now, Elara."
She should have been afraid.
She should have trembled at the words.
But all she felt…
Was the certainty that her life would never be the same again.