Hated and His to Claim

IVY

"Someone! Help!" My voice, already raw, tore from my throat. "Please!"

But no answer came.

My screams turned into broken sobs. "Please, the room is on fire! This door, opens only from the outside! My mother... my mother is sick! She can’t breathe! Please!"

I turned back to her, lying motionless on the charred mattress, her head dangling, her chest barely rising. Smoke circled around her like a noose, waiting to tighten.

"No—no!" I rushed back and grabbed her arms, dragging her away from the flames that now began licking at the hem of her gown. Her body, thin and frail from weeks of illness, sagged heavily in my arms. My tears streamed freely, stinging my smoke-filled eyes.

Why now? Was this how we were going to die? Not after everything she’d endured. Her strength, her dignity, stolen by those who once called her Luna. She, the rightful daughter of the late Alpha, should have reigned with respect, not been tossed aside like filth. My father, her own mate, betrayed her, stripped her of her title, and sentenced us both to a life of servitude.

And now, we’d die in a room no better than a kennel.

I clutched her tightly, whispering through my sobs. "I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry I can’t protect you."

Then, I heard it.

Footsteps. Heavy, hurried. Boots thudding down the corridor like war drums.

I jerked toward the sound. My heart surged with hope.

Someone had come.

I sprang to the door again, banging harder, voice climbing with desperation. "Help! We’re in here! The fire... my mother... please!"

The door burst open with a loud slam, sending me flying back to the floor. The impact rattled my bones. I blinked through the smoke to see a tall man step inside, the fire casting his shadow against the wall like a demon risen from hell.

It wasn’t a savior.

It was a man I recognized, a guard from the packhouse. But this time, he wasn’t wearing the same dull expression. No, this time, he smirked like he was the executioner sent to finish us off.

"Well, well," he drawled, his voice oily. "So this is the Moon Goddess's last little spark... Ivy Hunt."

My blood ran cold. He knew who I was, and he clearly didn't care.

My eyes dropped to the freshly bloodied silver whip dangling from his hand. Every instinct screamed run, but I couldn’t. Not with my mother lying unconscious behind me.

"Stay away from us," I said, though my voice trembled. I swallowed hard and tried to sound brave. "If Alpha Hunt finds out you tried to harm his heiress, he won’t spare you. He’ll destroy you."

The guard burst into laughter, bitter and cruel.

"Alpha Hunt?" he mocked. "You mean the coward who’s currently on the run?"

I froze.

What?

"What are you talking about?" I asked, voice cracking.

He took a step forward, whip twitching in his grip. "Your mighty Alpha fled—with his precious Luna and darling daughter. Ran like a rat when the Mancini war began."

I felt like the floor dropped beneath me.

A war?

I didn’t even know there was a war. I had been locked in this hellhole for weeks.

Anger and pain bubbled up in my chest. "Then why are you here?" I spat bitterly. "Why not go after your real enemies? The ones who live in mansions, who dine on silver platters? I have nothing. Nothing but scars. Gold runs in their veins, mine runs dry. What do you gain from hurting me?"

The man stepped closer.

But before he could speak, a shot rang out.

His body jerked violently before collapsing in a heap. Blood pooled beneath him.

I stared, stunned.

Behind him stood another man, dressed in all black, a pistol still smoking in his hand. His eyes were cold and calculating. He didn’t look at me—just lowered the weapon.

"Thank you, mister," I breathed, rushing to my mother. "Please, if you can help me—"

"Alpha Vladimir," came a voice behind him. Another man, also in black, entered the room and bowed.

Alpha... Vladimir?

No. No, it couldn’t be.

I turned, heart in my throat, and got a better look at the man who had fired the gun.

Tall. Powerful. Cold.

My blood chilled.

Alpha Vladimir. The ruthless leader of the Mancini Pack. The nightmare parents used to frighten their pups.

He looked at me with disgust, as though I were something filthy clinging to the bottom of his boot.

My knees gave out, and I dropped to the ground. "Please," I begged, voice trembling. "Don’t hurt us. We’ve done nothing."

Without blinking, he turned to his man. "Take both of them," he ordered.

"No! Please!" I cried, scrambling forward. "Not her. She’s sick! She won’t survive the journey!"

Tears blurred my vision, but I kept speaking, desperate. "Take me instead. I’ll do anything. I’ll cook, I’ll clean. I’ll serve you, if I must. But don’t take her. She needs medicine, rest... She won’t make it."

Alpha Vladimir stopped walking.

I held my breath.

Then, suddenly, he was in front of me.

A gust of wind swept past, and his hand grabbed my chin, rough and commanding.

His touch burned, but I didn’t dare pull away.

He tilted my face up, forcing my eyes to meet his.

His gaze was the ocean during a storm—wild, deep, and terrifying. And yet, there was something else beneath it.

Something I couldn’t name.

My breath hitched. My chest rose and fell rapidly.

Fear, yes. But something more. Something strange that twisted my stomach into knots and made my heart skip. This must be what it felt like to stand before a force of nature.

His fingers dug into my skin, and the tingling from his grip crawled down my spine like lightning.

For a second, something flickered in his eyes.

Then it vanished.

He leaned in slightly, voice low and biting.

"You will do as I say."