Chapter 4: BLOOD BOUND

-ZOYA-

"Bogus! That girl is a liar and a spy. You must be one of our enemies that she's conspiring with." Castellan steps forward, jabbing his index finger at the stranger.

His golden eyes droop with boredom. No one sees him move, but with a flick of his wrist, the representative of the Blackthorn family is thrown several meters into the air, slamming into the wall, and the scythe embeds itself in the wall, just above him as though to say, you could have lost your neck just now.

I gulp, goosebumps rising on my skin. Why is he standing up for me? More importantly, what could he want from me?

"Does anyone else have an objection?" He asks casually.

Alpha Xander steps back, his eyes wary. "What the hell are you?"

The stranger grins, the angle of the sunset lighting a part of his face, making his grin look sinister.

"I go by many names. But you can call me Ragnar Thorne."

Alpha Xander stiffens, his face going pale, like he recognizes the name, and more glaringly, fears it.

"Ragnar.... Ragnar Thorne?"

I try to place the name, but my mind comes up blank. The men holding me in place have loosened their grip in shock, looking like they have seen a ghost.

I see the elders of the pack inch back.

Run, I think, wondering if I could make it past the members of the pack without anyone noticing. Before I know it, Ragnar reaches out, tapping my forehead. I try to recoil, but my body isn't responding. His fingers are cold, I think, feeling lightheaded.

No, no, what does he want with me?

My eyelids begin to drop, and to my horror, I realize I am losing consciousness.

________

My eyes snap open.

The next time I wake up, I find myself in a small windowless room, the only light coming from the open door. I'm on a white bed, vaguely disoriented for five seconds before everything comes flooding back.

Someone in a white robe stands with his back to me, rummaging through a shelf, the only furniture in the room, save a table next to the bed. I notice his tall frame, long black hair, wickedly broad shoulders. I know who it is immediately.

My heart hammers in my chest.

I sit up, as quietly as I can. I feel hollow inside. No matter how I try, I can't shake away the events at the pack square.

Rejected.

It was like someone kicked me in the gut. No, Xander didn't understand. I need to get away, and fast.

I rub my bruised wrist. My eyes swiftly get accustomed to the dim lighting.

My eyes lock on a penknife on the table next to a stack of bandages. I pick it up instinctively and crawl out of the bed, inching closer to the stranger, seeing a chance, and probably the only chance of survival.

Years of training in the shadow rings replay in my head as I stand on my toes, aiming for his spine and sinking the knife in.

I hear a low growl as he turns to face me. Ragnar looks mildly annoyed, like he has been poked with a needle while hemming an important stitch.

"A stab in the back, literally," his brows scrunch up into an unimpressed frown.

I stagger back in shock, nearly falling over the table. The knife falls out of my hand with a loud clank, reminding me that I am now weaponless. "You're... You're not bleeding."

"Sorry to disappoint you, little wolf." Ragnar walks forward, his boots echoing off the stone floor like a countdown till he is right in front of me.

Up close, his golden eyes are almost hypnotizing, making it feel so natural to do whatever he wants. He could have fooled me with his white coat and stethoscope, but the image of the hooded man with a scythe isn't so easy to forget.

"How are you not bleeding?" I struggle for the words.

"Interesting, isn't it?" He leans down, lifting my chin. "Just like how you're still alive."

I gulp, but clench my fist, staring up in what I hope is a defiant expression, which is hard to execute when he is at least a foot and a half taller than me.

"If you're going to kill me, then just get it over with."

"All in due time," Ragnar waves his hand like he is making a harmless promise.

I would have been scared if I wasn't so angry. Him. It has to be him, behind the anonymous messages, the only one that knows my secret, exposed me to the pack so that he could have me for himself.

I shove him back, shaking with anger.

Ragnar steps back. He lifts an eyebrow. "Not exactly the thank you I was expecting, seeing as I saved you from certain death."

"You're no different! You only want something from me."

"Now it doesn't have to be like that," Ragnar says, his voice dripping with silk, even as he bends to pick up the knife.

"Greater things are at stake. Half of my territory are being invaded by a bunch of rogues. The Red fang, crimson moon pack..." He pauses, stepping closer, his fingers tracing down my cheeks almost delicately.

"You understand don't you? Everything you struggle to build tumbling down."

Everything I struggled to build... I find myself staring into his golden eyes nodding. Then I snap out of it, glaring at him, realizing what he was trying to do.

He had to be hypnotizing me.

His eyes sparkle with amusement. "You, little wolf, are the key. I need you to help me hunt them down. Join me and the Shadow pack will be a mere playground." Ragnar offers a hand, looking at me earnestly.

My eyes dart behind him, at the open doorway. His silver scythe gleams, resting against the doorframe.

I know just how fast he could move. He's not really offering me a deal. I realize.

I need to buy time, get to Xander and explain to him. For that, I need to be alive.

Ragnar smirks like he can read my mind.

"Fine," I say finally. I take his hand, knowing that I just make a deal with the devil.

"Wise, very wise." Ragnar opens my palm. With one fluid motion, the knife slashes across my wrist.

I yelp in pain, trying to pull away from him, but his grip is too tight.

"What the hell are you doing!"

His claws sharpen and he nicks the front of his hand, lacing our fingers together, muttering incantations under his breath.

His eyes meet mine, a triumphant smirk on his face. "Making sure that you won't betray me."