Arrival at the Citadel

Asher’s POV

I had no idea how long we rode in that darkness.

They shoved me and the other high-tier captives into the back of a blacked-out wagon. A thick canvas covered the whole thing and blocked out every bit of light. Time stopped meaning anything.

There was only this damn rattle of the wheels, the pull of iron on my wrists, and the hard beat of my own heart. Every mile took me further from the East. Every jolt reminded me I didn’t belong to myself anymore.

Then the carriage stopped hard enough to throw me against the person beside me.

A voice cut through the cold wind outside.

“Warlord Hoax has arrived! Open the inner gates for the palace shipment!”

A loud metallic screech followed as big iron gates swung open. The wagon rolled forward again. The sound under the wheels changed from rough gravel to smooth stone. We were inside a courtyard. After a short stretch the cart came to a final stop.

The canvas at the back was yanked open. Torchlight flooded in, bright enough to make my eyes sting.

“Out! All of you, get the fuck down and line up!”

Hoax’s arm reached in, grabbed the nearest captive by the collar, and hauled them out. One by one they pulled us into the freezing air. My boots hit polished stone. The chains on my wrists and ankles clattered as I stumbled into place.

I looked up and my breath caught.

We stood in the lower courtyard of the Western Citadel. Black walls rose so high they seemed to cut into the night sky. From the carriage all the way to the big palace doors, rows of armored guards stood in perfect lines. Black steel. Hands on their swords. Eyes fixed straight ahead, and none of them moved.

The guards shoved us into a single line and kicked our ankles until our feet lined up with the grooves in the stone. Someone near me stumbled and got a boot to the back of the knee. I kept my balance and stared straight ahead, jaw locked.

“What do we have here?”

The voice came from the marble staircase in front of us. It was smooth.

The moment it reached the courtyard, everything went still. Every guard dropped their eyes to the floor. Even Hoax, the same brutal bastard who had paid thousands in gold for me without blinking, lowered his head in clear, immediate respect.

Everyone was bowing. Everyone except me.

I stayed on my feet, spine straight, staring at the two men coming down the stairs. My pulse hammered in my ears, but I refused to look down. If this was the end of whatever was left of me, then fuck it… I wasn’t meeting it on my knees.

They didn’t look like the scavengers who had dragged me across the mountains. The older one moved with tight control, silver-trimmed furs on his shoulders, face hard and unreadable. The younger one wore dark silk and already had a sharp, restless smirk on his mouth. Both of them carried the kind of presence that made the air feel thicker.

Hoax stepped forward and dropped to one knee.

“My Princes,” he said, voice careful. “Prince Vaelin. Prince Kaelen. The highest-grade captives from the eastern markets, as requested.”

So those were their names. Neither of them looked at Hoax. Their eyes moved down the line of slaves and stopped on me. The younger one, Kaelen, tilted his head. The smirk widened.

“Who the bloody hell is that thing that isn’t bowing?”

The older one, Vaelin, said nothing at first. He just watched me, eyes flat, like he was already deciding what I was worth.

Their Alpha presence hit the courtyard hard. The air thickened until it felt difficult to breathe. My knees wanted to give out, but I locked them and stayed standing.

Before I could shift my weight, Hoax moved. His hand clamped around the back of my neck and drove me face-first into the freezing marble. Pain flashed white behind my eyes.

“Get down, you stupid cunt,” he hissed against my ear, voice tight with panic. “Do you want us both executed before we even cross the threshold? Keep your fucking head down.”

My cheek pressed against the cold stone. Anger burned behind my eyes. Dirt and dried blood from the journey smeared under my skin. If they knew who I really was—if they knew the wolfless slave on the ground was the son of Eastern Alpha Akoon—my head would already be on a spike.

I stayed down. My chest rose and fell hard against the floor. My fingers scraped at the marble and found nothing to hold.

Slow footsteps came closer and stopped near my head. The scent of dark cedar, wine, and raw Alpha power settled over me.

Vaelin spoke first. His voice was deep and stripped of interest beyond the practical.

“You brought cleaner stock than usual, Hoax. Father will be pleased with the delivery.”

Their father. King Alpha Xorax. The same man who had ruined me before I was old enough to understand what had been taken. He was somewhere behind those black doors, and his sons were looking down at me like fresh meat brought home for the pack.

Kaelen let out a short, pleased sound. The tip of his scabbard tapped lightly against the chains on my wrists, making them clink in the quiet.

“He still has fight in him,” he said. “I like the ones who think it still matters.”

Vaelin didn’t share the amusement. When he spoke again, his voice stayed level and final. “Take them to the lower chambers. Prepare them for the marking.”