Her Mate

~Elvira~

The road was still hot from the day’s sun when my friends, Carson and Lisa, drove away.

I stood there alone as the thick Pennsylvania woods closed in around me. My paws still throbbed, a leftover sensation from the miles I’d spent running in my wolf form.

I looked toward the trees where the Silverblade pack territory began, i wasn't just looking for a new home, I was looking for a safe place.

I needed to hide from the man who had spent years making me feel completely worthless.

As I crossed the invisible border line, the forest changed, It felt like someone was watching me. The quiet was unsettling, broken only by a faint, high-pitched hum that sounded like electronic security sensors.

Then, the hum turned into a terrifying snarl.

Two large wolves stepped out from the bushes, their eyes bright in the dark. They drooled as they circled me, moving like hunters that had just found their target.

I reached for the small bag Lisa had packed for me, trying to use it as a shield, but it was useless against three hundred pounds of muscle and sharp teeth.

Before I could even scream, a brown wolf slammed into me.

I hit the dirt hard, and the wind was knocked right out of my lungs. My wolf, Val, started scratching at the back of my mind, desperate to push out and fight, but I knew we were totally outmatched.

The brown wolf began to change, his bones shifting until a shirtless, messy-haired warrior was standing over me.

He didn't look sorry for me at all, he looked at me like I was an insect.

"Shift," he growled. "Now."

I let the change take over. The heat of shifting always hurts a bit, and it left me shivering and vulnerable on the forest floor, i scrambled to grab my red tank top and pants from my bag, my hands shaking because I could feel them staring at me.

"I mean no harm," I said, putting both hands up to show it.

"I’m looking for safety," I choked out, trying to keep my voice steady. "I want to join the training program. I heard Silverblade was fair to people."

The two warriors looked at each other and laughed.

"Silverblade is for the strong," the dark-haired one said. He tossed a pair of heavy zip-ties to his friend.

"And for your information rogues aren't acceptable in our territory, targets."

"I'm not a rogue!" I shouted, but before I could finish the sentence, they restrained my hands.

The last thing I saw was a tranquilizer needle pointed at my neck.

"Welcome to the jail, stray," the brown-haired wolf whispered.

Then, everything went black.

When I woke up, I was in a cell made of cold iron and steel. It smelled like fear and urine, I sat in the corner, rubbing my sore wrists and listening to the distant sounds of the pack.

I had acted on impulse, running away from my stepfather, only to end up in a high-tech cell.

I was a nobody here.

I had no rank, no ID, no rights, and certainly no Alpha release letter.

That was why they called me a rogue and a runaway.

Suddenly, the steel door at the end of the hall opened.

The footsteps that followed weren't fast like a guard’s, they were deliberate and slow, belonging to someone who was completely in charge.

As the person got closer, a scent hit me instantly, it smelled like rain on dry earth, cinnamon, and a wild scent that made my pulse race.

"Mate!" Val howled inside my head, her spirit immediately bowing down in respect.

I looked up, breathless.

Standing behind the bars was a tall, imposing man.

His gold eyes watched the way my pulse raced in my neck.

This wasn't just some soldier.

This was the Alpha.

He narrowed his eyes, his nose flaring as he caught my scent, the air in the tiny cell became thick and heavy, making it hard to breathe.

His gaze moved to my lips, then scanned down my body with a cold, judgmental look that made me uncomfortable and tense.

"Female," he said.

His voice was low, but it vibrated through the room.

"I’m told I have a trespasser. A stray pretending to be a refugee."

I stood up. My legs felt weak, but I kept my chin up.

"I'm not a stray. I'm a survivor."

The Alpha stepped closer

. The power coming off him was overwhelming. He gripped the bars until his knuckles turned white.

His face twisted into an expression that wasn't welcoming at all, it looked like pure hatred.

"Survivors follow rules," he whispered,

"And my first rule is that I don't keep trash in my territory, mate or not."

My heart stopped.

He knew. He felt the bond, and he was already stepping back, his expression completely turning cold..