Chapter 2 - The Alpha's Den

Eli

The forest closes in as he drags me uphill.

My feet slip on loose soil, but his grip on my arm is as unyielding as iron.

I could dig my heels in, shift and fight, but my wolf is curled low in my gut, tail tucked between his legs, still shivering from that bite.

It burns.

A deep ache throbs where his teeth broke my skin, radiating heat through my neck and chest, and twisting lower.

I grit my teeth against it, against the dizziness, against the treacherous part of me that wants to lean into his pull.

We break through the trees into a clearing and my breath catches.

The pack is waiting. “Get your first glimpse of your new home. You belong to Ronan Vale’s pack now, pet.”

Fucking hell. I should have known this is Ronan Vale.

Dozens of wolves and half‑shifted figures linger near fire pits and tents, weapons glinting in the torchlight.

Their eyes follow me, expressions ranging from curiosity to open hostility.

I’ve seen packs before. Most are ragged, hungry and desperate, but these wolves move like predators that know they’re at the top of the food chain.

The Alpha keeps me close, his hand still wrapped around my arm, thumb stroking idly like he’s calming himself, not me.

His presence rolls over the clearing in a wave, and every wolf drops their gaze, baring their throats in submission.

Except one.

A broad‑shouldered man with a jagged scar across his face steps forward. His wolf‑gold eyes flick to me, then back to Ronan.

“You brought in a stray?”

Ronan’s grip tightens until my bones creak. “I brought in what’s mine.”

A low ripple of sound runs through the pack.

Curiosity, shock, there may even be pity.

The scarred man glances at the bite on my neck and grins, sharp and knowing.

“Didn’t think you’d ever take a mate, Alpha.”

Ronan doesn’t answer. He doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone.

His hand slides from my arm to the back of my neck, fingers pressing over the mark until I shiver.

“Wh-where are you taking me?” I manage, my voice hoarse.

His thumb presses harder in warning. “You speak when I tell you to.”

Anger and defiance flares hot in my chest and I have to bite back a snarky retort. I would be mated to a brute who sees me as nothing but a pet.

But the bond hums in my blood, making my knees weak.

My wolf whimpers again, tail still tucked. I hate it. I hate him. Ronan.

He steers me through the camp, past rows of cabins and fire pits, until we reach the largest building.

A timber lodge with carved wolf heads lining the entrance.

The door creaks as he pushes it open, and the scent hits me immediately.

Smoke, leather, something darker and undeniably male, sharp enough to make my mouth water against my will.

Inside, it’s dim, lit only by lanterns and the glow of embers in a stone hearth.

Weapons hang on the walls. Blades, claws, the kind of trophies I don’t want to catalog.

He lets go of my neck just long enough to shove me forward.

“Sit,” he orders, pointing to a chair near the fire.

I don’t move.

I want to. Every fiber of my body is trembling with the need to do as I’m told, but something in me balks at obeying too easily.

He arches a brow, a slow dangerous smile tugging at his mouth. “Disobedience already? I look forward to teaching you manners.”

My heart stutters and I sit, dropping my eyes to the ground.

He prowls around me, unhurried, eyes raking over every inch of my frame.

I feel stripped bare, objectified, owned. His fingers catch my chin, tilting my head to expose the bite mark.

He leans in, close enough that I feel the heat of his breath washing over my neck.

“Do you feel it?” he murmurs.

I swallow hard. “Feel what?”

“This.”

His thumb strokes the mark, and the bond thrums hard enough to make me gasp.

Heat coils in my belly, sharp and undeniable. My thighs press together before I can stop them.

His smile sharpens, turning even more predatory. “Good. You’ll learn fast.”

He lets go, steps back, and strips off his leather jacket, revealing the network of black tattoos over his chest and arms.

Sigils, names, ancient symbols that make my wolf stir uneasily.

The firelight turns his skin to bronze, the muscle beneath shifting with every movement.

“Wh-what happens now?” I fucking hate the way my voice shakes. But I’m nothing but a weak Omega, trapped by something far bigger and more dangerous than I am.

Ronan drags a chair across from me and sits down, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on mine.

“What happens now,” he says quietly, “Is you tell me why you were on my land, and I decide whether to keep you breathing.”

The burn in my neck throbs in time with my pulse.

I lick my lips, taste my own fear, and meet his gaze. Because if I look away, I know he’ll win.

He already has.