5. The Beast's Claim

The thick, copper taste of Dominic Varkov’s blood coated Rosalie’s tongue, a metallic brand that felt like a permanent iron shackle around her soul. The ancient incantations chanted by the trembling High Priest still echoed in the freezing night air, vibrating through the white stone altar like the toll of a death knell. The silver threads that had once tethered her to Prince Cassian were completely gone, replaced by a heavy, invisible chain that bound her to the most ruthless Alpha in existence.

She was a Varkov now. She belonged to the monster of the Black Fortress.

Rosalie gasped for air, her lungs burning as she choked on the heavy fluid. Her small, fragile body trembled violently against Dominic’s massive frame. He hadn't let go of her arm; his fingers were a vice, holding her perfectly upright when her knees felt like jello. She was utterly spent, her energy drained by the white-hot agony of the severed mate bond.

"Let her go!"

A sharp, demanding voice broke the stunned silence of the clearing. Rosalie blanched as her father, Brian Ashford, stepped forward from the crowd. His brows wrinkled in worry for his daughter. Her heart stuttered seeing her father coming for her rescue for the first time in her life. "She's my daughter. I cannot give her for free." He said, and her heart shattered into millions of pieces.

His face wasn't twisted with worry for his daughter; it was contorted with greed and rage. He didn't care that his child had just been publicly humiliated, rejected, and forced into a blood union with a ruthless brute. He only cared about the profit.

"Dominic Varkov, you cannot simply walk away with her!" Brian shouted, trying to project Alpha authority, though his voice cracked under the weight of Dominic's suffocating aura. "Prince pays the royal debt, but she's my daughter. The Ashford bloodline demands a proper negotiation! We want land, we want titles in exchange for her pure blood!"

The air in the clearing instantly turned to ice. The temperature plummeted so low that the moisture from the surrounding trees began to freeze, turning into a light, ghostly frost that drifted over the white stone.

Dominic didn't even turn his body to face the older Alpha. He merely shifted his grip on Rosalie’s arm, his large, calloused hand sliding down to wrap around her waist. With an effortless tug, he pulled her small, shivering body flush against his chest. The sheer, radiating heat from his massive muscles was the only thing keeping her from collapsing into a heap of ruined burgundy silk. She tried to struggle to get away from him, but her strength was nothing in front of him.

"Negotiate?" Dominic’s voice rumbled through the clearing, a low, terrifying sound that vibrated in the very marrow of everyone present. It felt like thousands of angry bees thrumming against their skulls. "Your Prince just traded this girl to me to settle a blood debt that has bled my estate dry for a decade. The deal is sealed in blood. She is no longer an Ashford. She does not carry your name, she does not carry your taints, and she is no longer bound by your laws."

He slowly turned his head, his piercing amber eyes locking onto Brian. The dangerous glint in those embers was enough to make the older man choke on his own breath.

"She belongs to the Varkov line now," Dominic growled, his voice carrying a teeth-like edge that promised violence. "If you wish to discuss 'prices' and 'negotiations,' Brian, we can discuss the price of your head for interrupting an Alpha Lord. Choose your next words very carefully."

Brian’s face drained of all color. He swallowed hard, taking three frantic steps back into the crowd, completely retreating into the shadows of the pack as Penelope held his hand gently and held him back. He wouldn't fight for Rosalie. He wouldn't defend her honor. Just as he had done her entire life, he abandoned her the moment his own safety was threatened.

To the side of the altar, Prince Cassian stood with his arm wrapped tightly around Carolina’s waist. Carolina was practically preening, her eyes dancing with wicked triumph as she adjusted the glittering tiara on her head. Cassian watched Rosalie’s tear-stained face, a smug, arrogant smirk plastered across his handsome features.

"Let him have the trash, father," Cassian called out, his voice dripping with royal disdain. "Take her, Uncle. The journey to the Black Fortress is a long, freezing ride, and she is nothing but an Omega. I’m sure she will make an excellent housemaid for your guards. Or perhaps a plaything to keep the men warm during the winter storms. We certainly have no use for a broken tool here."

Carolina let out a loud, mocking giggle, leaning into Cassian's side. "Be careful, Alpha Dominic. She’s terribly clumsy. She can’t even prepare a bath without crying."

Rosalie flinched, a fresh sob ripping from her chest. The humiliation was a physical weight, pressing her down into the dirt. She closed her eyes, waiting for the pack to join in on the laughter, waiting for the final crushing blow to her dignity.

But the laughter never came.

Before the sound of her sob could fully escape, Dominic’s movement was a blur of lethal speed. He didn't strike her, and he didn't cast her aside. Instead, with a single, sweeping motion, he unclasped his massive, heavy, fur-lined black cloak. He threw it over Rosalie’s shoulders, wrapping her completely in the thick, warm fabric. It swallowed her tiny frame, shielding her body, her torn dress, and her tears from the prying, hateful eyes of the Valen Pack.

The scent of winter pine, snow, and old blood instantly enveloped her, blocking out the suffocating citrus cologne of the Prince.

Dominic stepped closer to the edge of the dais, his towering height casting a massive, terrifying shadow over Cassian and Carolina. The sheer force of his Alpha command slammed into the clearing like a physical shockwave, forcing several lower-ranking wolves to drop to their knees in pure submission.

"She is the Lady of the Varkov Estate now," Dominic said, his amber eyes locking onto Cassian’s with a promise of utter annihilation. The smirk instantly died on the Prince's face, replaced by a sudden, stark terror. "She is my wife. If any man in this pack, including you, nephew... ever speaks of my wife as a servant or a plaything again, I will return to these lands. And I will not come for a trade. I will come for a massacre."

The clearing was so silent you could hear the frost snapping on the leaves. Cassian swallowed hard, his jaw tightening, but he didn't dare utter a single syllable. For the first time in his pampered, royal life, the Prince looked genuinely afraid for his survival.

Dominic didn't wait for a response. He didn't care about their submission. He turned back to Rosalie, who was trembling beneath the heavy folds of his cloak. She couldn't believe what he just said. Without a word, he reached down and swept her up into his arms, lifting her as if she weighed absolutely nothing.

Her head fell involuntarily against the cold silver buttons of his tunic, her small hands clutching at the dark fur of his cloak for balance. She wanted to fight him, she wanted to scream, to tear herself away from the beast, but she had nowhere to go. The home she knew was gone. Her family had sold her. Her mate had broken her.

"Don't... please don't hurt me," Rosalie whispered, her voice a fragile, broken wheeze against his chest. Her misty eyes looked up at his sharp jawline, terrified of what he would do to her once they were away from the crowds.

Dominic looked down at her, his expression a mask of cold granite, but his amber eyes burned with a dangerous, possessive intensity that made her breath catch. "I told you in the woods, little wolf," he growled softly, the sound vibrating directly against her cheek. "I do not break what belongs to me."

He threw back his head and let out a sharp, piercing whistle that echoed through the dark canopy of the forest.

From the dense tree line, a massive, demonic warhorse emerged. The beast was entirely midnight black, with a thick mane that seemed to catch the shadows of the night. It looked as fierce and merciless as its master, its hooves striking the stone altar with a heavy, thundering thud.

Dominic mounted the stallion in one fluid, powerful motion, keeping Rosalie pinned securely against his chest with one massive arm wrapped around her waist. He gripped the reins with his free hand, digging his boots into the horse's flanks.

With a wild, powerful leap, the stallion thundered away from the Moonlit Altar, tearing into the dark depths of the forest.

The wind whipped violently around them, howling like a chorus of angry spirits as they tore through the mountain trails. The trees blurred into a solid wall of blackness. Rosalie looked back over Dominic's shoulder one last time. She watched the glow of the ceremony fires fade into tiny, insignificant specks of light. She watched the territory of the Valen Pack, the prison of her childhood, disappear into the mist.

She was completely detached from reality, falling deeper into a dark abyss. She was terrified of the man holding her, terrified of the fate that awaited her at the end of this ride. Yet, as the freezing mountain air bit at her face, she couldn't help but notice how incredibly warm Dominic's chest was. He was like a furnace in the middle of a blizzard. The heavy scent of winter pine and old smoke that clung to his skin was strange, but it was the only thing keeping her anchored, stopping her mind from fracturing completely from the pain of the rejected bond.

Hours bled together in a haze of freezing wind and the rhythmic, thundering pace of the horse. Rosalie’s eyes grew heavy, her body numbing from exhaustion and hunger. She had survived the abuse of her family, the malice of her sister, and the ultimate betrayal of her destined mate. But as she lay trapped in the arms of the Beast, she knew the real test was about to begin.

Finally, the horse slowed its frantic pace, its hooves crunching against a steep, rocky path that wound upward into the highest peaks of the jagged mountains. The fog hung thick and heavy here, swallowing the moonlight and wrapping the world in a ghostly shroud.

"Look up, little wolf," Dominic’s deep voice rumbled against her ear, commanding and sharp.

Rosalie forced her heavy eyelids open, blinking through the thick mist. As the fog parted, her heart stopped in her chest.

Perched on the very edge of a massive, jagged cliff was the infamous Black Fortress.

It was a terrifying, gothic structure made entirely of dark, jagged stone that seemed to grow directly out of the mountain itself. Massive, pointed towers pierced the stormy sky like iron spears, and iron-barbed gates guarded the entrance like the teeth of a sleeping monster. No warm fires were greeting them, no welcoming lights. It was a palace of shadows, a fortress designed to keep the world out, and to keep its secrets in.

The heavy iron gates groaned open with a deafening screech as Dominic guided the warhorse into the dark, cobblestone courtyard. Dozens of heavily armed guards, all of them massive, imposing Alphas dressed in charcoal armor, instantly dropped to one knee, bowing their heads in absolute reverence to their Lord.

Dominic brought the horse to a halt. He looked down at Rosalie’s shivering, pale form, his amber eyes glowing in the darkness of the courtyard with a terrifying, unreadable expression. A smirk that wasn't a smile, but a declaration of total ownership, played on his lips.

He leaned down, his warm breath fanning across her frozen cheek as he whispered the words that would seal her fate forever.

"Welcome to your new cage, Rosalie Varkov. Let us see if you have the strength to survive the night."