CHAPTER 3: Blood Debts

The garage was a wet dream for car enthusiasts.

Ferraris. Lamborghinis. A matte black Bugatti that probably cost more than a small country. And in the center, a motorcycle that looked like it belonged in a Mad Max film — all chrome and aggression.

Caspian headed straight for it.

"No fucking way," I said. "I'm not getting on that thing in a dress—"

He tossed me a leather jacket from a nearby hook. "Put this on. And these."

A pair of leather pants followed, along with boots that looked expensive and broken in.

"Whose are these?"

"Does it matter?" His tone suggested I shouldn't ask again.

I changed quickly, hyper-aware of his eyes on me the entire time. The leather fit perfectly—too perfectly. Like it had been made for me.

"Whose clothes are these, Caspian?"

"No one's. Not anymore." He swung his leg over the bike. "Now get on before I leave you here and handle this alone."

"You can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want. You'll learn that." He revved the engine. "Last chance, Rielle. Get on or stay here and wait for assassins to find you."

I got on.

His body was solid against my front as I wrapped my arms around his waist. Heat radiated through his shirt, and I caught his scent again — smoke and whiskey and danger.

"Hold tight," he said.

Then he gunned it.

We exploded out of the garage like a bullet from a gun, the bike roaring as we tore down the drive. The iron gates opened just in time for us to blast through, and then we were on the main road, going way too fast.

"Where are we going?" I shouted over the wind.

"To visit an old friend." Caspian leaned into a turn that made my stomach drop. "One who owes me a favor."

Twenty minutes of pure terror later, we pulled up to what looked like an abandoned warehouse. The area was industrial decay — rusted metal, broken windows, the kind of place where bodies were found.

"This is your friend's place?" I asked as we dismounted.

"David doesn't believe in curb appeal." Caspian walked toward a side door, and it opened before he could knock.

A massive male emerged — even bigger than Caspian, with a shaved head, cold blue eyes, and tattoos covering every inch of visible skin. He looked at Caspian, then at me, and smiled.

"You bought a pet," he said in an accent I couldn't place. Russian? Ukrainian? "How domestic of you."

"She's not a pet." Caspian's hand found my lower back, possessive. "She's my woman. There's a difference."

"Is there?" Dimitri's eyes raked over me with clinical interest. "She looks expensive. And terrified. Not your usual type."

"My usual type didn't have a bounty placed on their head within an hour of purchase." Caspian pushed past him into the warehouse. "We need information. Fast."

Inside, the warehouse was nothing like the exterior suggested. State-of-the-art computers lined one wall, weapons lined another, and in the center—a table covered in maps, photos, and what looked like surveillance equipment.

"Who put the bounty?" David asked, moving to the computers.

"Marcus Thorne. Werewolf. Old money. His son owed him five million in gambling debts, which is why Rielle ended up at the auction in the first place."

"And you paid five million for her?" David glanced back at me. "What's so special about the girl?"

"She's mine," Caspian said, his voice dropping dangerously. "That's all the special she needs to be."

Something passed between them — a look I couldn't interpret.

"Fine." David turned back to his screens. "Marcus Thorne. Let me see what I can find."

His fingers flew across the keyboard, screens lighting up with information faster than I could process.

"Here," he said after a moment. "Marcus Thorne. CEO of Thorne Industries. Werewolf alpha of the Shadowpaw pack. Net worth approximately two billion. Known for... interesting business practices."

"Define interesting," I said, finding my voice.

"Trafficking. Drugs. The occasional murder for hire." David pulled up more files. "He runs the auction house where you were sold. Has for twenty years. Very profitable enterprise."

My stomach turned. "And Kieran knew?"

"His son is the heir apparent. Of course he knew." David clicked through more screens. "The bounty is legitimate. Fifty million for your return, dead or alive. Already has seven hunters confirmed interested."

"Seven," Caspian said quietly. "Names."

David rattled them off. Each one made Caspian's expression darker.

"They're all high-level," David observed. "Marcus really wants her back. Why? What makes one werewolf girl worth fifty million?"

"That's what we're going to find out." Caspian looked at me. "What aren't you telling me, Rielle?"

"I don't know what you're talking about—"

"Bullshit." He crossed the space between us in two strides. "Marcus doesn't throw around fifty million unless there's a reason. So what makes you special? What aren't you telling me?"

My mouth went dry. "I'm nobody. Just a werewolf from a nothing pack—"

"Lying." His hand gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. "Try again. And this time, tell me the truth, or I'll find other ways to extract it."

I swallowed hard. "My mother."

"What about her?"

"She wasn't just any werewolf. She was—" I stopped, the words catching in my throat.

"She was what?" Caspian's grip tightened.

"Pure bloodline. Direct descendant of the First Moon. The original werewolves." I looked away. "That's why Marcus wanted me in the auction. Wanted me sold to someone he controlled. Because my blood is worth more than gold to the right buyer."

Silence fell, heavy and oppressive.

"Fuck," David breathed. "She's a First Moon descendant? Caspian, do you have any idea what that means?"

"It means she's worth killing for." Caspian released my chin. "And it means Marcus will never stop hunting her. Not for fifty million. Not for any amount. He'll want her back for breeding."

The word made me flinch.

"That's barbaric—"

"That's werewolf politics." David was already typing again. "If she carries First Moon blood, she could produce heirs with abilities lost to most packs. Strength. Healing. Extended lifespans. She's a genetic jackpot."

"I'm right here," I snapped. "Stop talking about me like I'm livestock."

"You were literally sold at auction," David pointed out. "Not much difference."

I wanted to hit him.

Caspian's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his expression went cold.

"It's him," he said. "Marcus."

"Don't answer—"

He answered. Put it on speaker.

"Mr. Valdyr." Marcus Thorne's voice was smooth, cultured, hiding venom beneath silk. "I believe you have something that belongs to me."

"I have something I paid for," Caspian corrected. 

"She's not yours to keep. Return her within twenty-four hours, and I'll cancel the bounty. I'll even refund your purchase price. Consider it a business transaction that didn't work out."

"And if I refuse?"

"Then you'll understand why people don't steal from me." Marcus's tone turned sharp. "I know what you are, Valdyr. I know you're not just another rich alpha playing at power. But even lycans can bleed. And I have resources you can't imagine."

"So do I." Caspian's voice was dead calm. "And unlike you, I don't make threats I can't follow through on."

"This isn't a threat. It's a promise." Papers rustled on the other end. "Twenty-four hours. After that, I come for her myself. And you won't like what happens when I do."

The line went dead.

I stared at Caspian. "You told him no. You actually told Marcus Thorne no."

"I told him to fuck off. There's a difference." He looked at David. "I need locations. Safe houses. And weapons. Lots of weapons."⁰

"You're going to war over a girl you met two hours ago?" David's eyebrows rose. "That's insane even for you."

"She's mine," Caspian said for the third time. "That's all that matters."

"Your funeral." David pulled up new screens. "I can give you three safe houses within a hundred miles. All off-grid, fully stocked. But Caspian—" He paused. "If you're keeping her, you need to claim her. Properly. A purchase isn't enough to stop other lycans from coming after her."

"I know."

"Sure you do?" David's gaze flicked to me. "Because if you claim her and then she dies, the bond will drive you insane. You sure you want that risk?"

"I'm sure."

My heart hammered. "What does he mean, claim me?"

Both males looked at me.

"You don't know?" David sounded amused. "Your new owner didn't explain?"

"Explain what?"

Caspian's jaw clenched. "Lycans don't just fuck for pleasure. We bond. Permanently. One bite, one claim, and you're mine forever. Can't be broken. Can't be undone. Even death doesn't sever it completely."

The room tilted. "You're talking about a mating bond."

"Not just a mating bond. The mating bond. The kind that makes you feel what I feel. Want what I want. Crave what I crave." His eyes burned. "The kind that means if I die, you'll wish you died too."

"That's insane—"

"That's lycan." He moved closer. "And it's happening tonight. Before Marcus sends his hunters. Before anyone else gets the idea they can take you from me."

"I don't consent—"ß

"You consented the moment you got on that bike. The moment you followed me into this warehouse. The moment you admitted you wanted me." His hand cupped my face. "And deep down, you know it's the only way you survive this. Marcus won't stop. The hunters won't stop. But if you're claimed by me—" His voice dropped. "—then you're protected by lycan law. And anyone who touches you signs their own death warrant."

"This is happening too fast—"

"Life happens fast, sweetheart. You learned that when Kieran sold you." He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear. "Now you get to choose. Stay unclaimed and vulnerable, or let me mark you and become untouchable. What's it going to be?"

My mind raced. This was insane. All of it.

But he was right about one thing — Marcus wouldn't stop. And I'd seen enough in the last two hours to know Caspian wasn't bluffing about protection.

"If I agree," I said slowly, "what happens to me?"

"You become mine. Completely. Body, soul, future. No take-backs. No regrets." His thumb traced my lower lip. "But in return, you get my protection. My power. Everything I am becomes yours to command."

"That's not equal—"

"It's more than equal. It's everything." His eyes blazed. "So decide, Rielle. Clock's ticking. And Marcus's hunters are already on their way."

Behind us, David's computers beeped urgently.

"Speaking of which," he said. "We have company. Three vehicles approaching fast. All heavily armed."

Caspian's expression turned feral. "How far?"

"Five minutes. Maybe less."

"Then we don't have time for debate." Caspian grabbed my hand. "Choose now, Rielle. Let me claim you, or I leave you here and you take your chances with whoever gets through that door first."

I looked at the door. At the computers showing vehicles closing in. At David's weapons.

Then at Caspian.

At this male who'd paid five million for me. Who'd threatened Marcus Thorne. Who was offering me protection at a cost I didn't fully understand.

"Do it," I whispered.

His smile was pure predator.

"Good girl."

Then his mouth crashed down on mine, and the world exploded.