Chapter 2: The Slave Block

My knees gave out on the second step.

The guards didn't care. They didn't stop dragging me.

My bare feet slapped against the freezing stone of the grand staircase, my toes leaving small, pathetic smears of blood where I dragged. The rough fabric of the hospital gown rode up my thighs, exposing the fresh, agonizing black stitches binding my sliced abdomen together. 

Every jolt was a white-hot knife to my gut. The pain was just too much for me. If only my wolf was alive and active, I wouldn’t have had to hurt this much. 

"Please," I sobbed, my voice a broken rasp. I twisted my torso, curling my shoulders inward to shield the tiny, shivering bundle clutched to my chest. My son was crying —a high, thin, reedy shriek that tore my heart completely in two. "My stitches. Please, you're tearing them."

Thorne, Kaelen’s Beta, walked ahead of us. He didn't even look back. "Keep her moving," he ordered the guards. "The Alpha wants her on the block before the sun sets."

They dragged me out the doors and shoved me down the front steps.

I hit the freezing, muddy ground of the pack square hard. My shoulder slammed into the dirt, but I managed to twist at the last second, taking the brunt of the fall so my baby wouldn't get crushed.

A sharp, searing pop echoed in my ears. Searing heat flooded my stomach. I looked down. Two of my stitches had ripped. Fresh, bright red blood was already seeping through the thin white gown, mixing with the dark brown mud.

I didn't have time to scream.

The entire Frostbane Pack was gathered in the square. Hundreds of wolves. People I had baked for. Children I had taught in the pack school. Elders I had cared for. They all stood in a massive circle, their breath pluming in the freezing air.

Some looked away, shame and ruth painting their faces. But most stared at me with the exact same cold, clinical disdain as their Alpha. I wasn't their Luna anymore. I was defective merchandise. I was a wolf-less freak and I had given birth to a weak heir.

I scrambled to my knees in the mud, shivering violently as the freezing wind whipped my tangled hair across my face. I held my crying son to my chest, trying to share whatever pathetic body heat I had left.

Up on the high wooden auction platform, Kaelen stood like a god.

He was dressed in his formal Alpha leathers, the thick black fur collar making his shoulders look impossibly broad. And clinging to his arm, wearing my heavy winter cloak, was Selena. She looked down at me, her perfect porcelain face twisted into a mask of manufactured pity, while her fingers stroked Kaelen’s chest possessively.

"Listen to me, Frostbane!" Kaelen’s voice boomed over the square, echoing off the mountains. "We do NOT tolerate weakness. We do NOT harbor leeches. The female before you failed her Alpha. She failed her pack. She produced a human defect, and she is no longer welcome on our lands."

The crowd murmured in agreement. My chest heaved. I couldn't breathe. He was actually doing it!

"Today is the Trade," Kaelen continued, his glowing eyes dropping to meet mine with absolute malice. "And today, the weak will finally serve a purpose. We trade the useless for the strength of our future."

A rhythmic, heavy thud of hooves suddenly interrupted him.

The crowd parted instantly, stumbling over each other in sheer terror to get out of the way.

A massive, armored carriage rolled into the muddy square. It was pulled by four monstrous, coal-black draft horses that looked more like demons than animals. The carriage itself didn't bear a pack crest. It was carved with jagged, ancient runes that seemed to swallow the fading sunlight.

The temperature in the square plummeted. Puddles of mud literally froze over.

And then, a scent filled the air. It wasn't the earthy pine of local wolves from a random pack. It smelled like an approaching thunderstorm. Ozone. Crushed cedar. And old, dark magic. A combination of smells everyone dreadfully knew too well. Including me.

The Lycan King’s emissaries!

The heavy iron door of the carriage swung open. A towering man stepped out, his face completely obscured by a smooth, terrifying iron mask. He didn't look at Kaelen. He didn't look at the crowd. He walked straight to the wooden platform, every step he took heavy and utterly silent.

"Frostbane," the masked man droned. His voice sounded like grinding stones. "The King requires tributes. What do you offer?"

Kaelen puffed out his chest, trying to project dominance, but I saw the slight tremor in his jaw. Even an Alpha was nothing but a pup before the Lycan court.

"I offer a surrogate," Kaelen declared, pointing a thick finger down at me where I kneeled in the bleeding mud. Like an object meant to be discarded! "And the infant. They are yours for the standard weight in gold."

The masked man slowly turned his head. His blank iron face locked onto me.

I shrank back, clutching my baby so tight my knuckles turned white. 

‘A surrogate.’

The King’s court was notorious for using wolf-less women for horrific experiments, or worse, breeding stock for their monsters. 

The emissary reached into his heavy black cloak, pulled out a thick velvet bag, and casually tossed it onto the mud at Kaelen’s boots. It landed with a heavy, metallic thud.

"Sold," the masked man rasped.

Kaelen smirked, pulling Selena tighter against his side. "Take the trash. And tell your King the Frostbane Pack is always ready to do business."

Two massive Lycan guards, their eyes a sickening, glowing red, stepped out from behind the carriage. They marched toward me, their heavy boots splashing in the frozen mud.

"No," I whispered, scrambling backward. My torn stitches burned like fire, leaving a trail of blood in the dirt. "No, please. Kaelen, please! He’s your son!"

Kaelen just turned his back, walking away with Selena laughing softly into his shoulder.

A heavy, leather-clad hand grabbed my upper arm, hauling me off the ground with terrifying force. I shrieked as my abdomen flared with blinding agony. My baby wailed, terrified by the sudden jolt.

“Let me fucking go!! Let me be! I am not and will never be a slave!” I managed to yell back dauntlessly.

"Quiet, slave," the guard growled, dragging me toward the dark, gaping maw of the carriage.

But as they hauled me closer to the carriage, the air seemed to drastically change. Literally. 

The scent of ozone and cedar suddenly thickened, becoming so heavy and rich it made my dormant, useless wolf stir for the first time in more than 20 years. It smelled like dark chocolate and raw, unfiltered power. This was a completely new smell. And it was an undeniably strong one.

The masked emissary suddenly froze. The guards dragging me stopped dead in their tracks, their red eyes widening in shock.

From the absolute darkness inside the carriage, a low, vibrating growl echoed out.

That growl.. that wasn’t the growl of a wolf. It was a monster’s. The sound rattled my teeth in my skull and vibrated through the very mud beneath our feet.

A massive, scarred hand suddenly gripped the iron doorframe of the carriage.

Then, a man stepped out into the dying light.

He was a mountain of muscle, dressed in pitch-black combat leathers. But it was his eyes that stopped my heart from beating. They weren't red like the guards’, and they were nothing like Kaelen’s or like anything i’ve ever seen before. They were a lethal, molten, glowing gold.

The King. The Lycan King himself!!

He didn't look at Kaelen who was now stationed far away. He didn't look at the terrified, silent pack behind.

His molten eyes locked entirely, exclusively, onto me.

He inhaled sharply, his massive chest expanding as he drank in the freezing air. The golden glow in his eyes flared so bright it was blinding.

"Let her go," the King rumbled. The command wasn't loud, but it carried a lethal, commanding weight that dropped the two guards holding me instantly to their knees. Once was all he needed to state his command. Twice, and your head may not be so lucky to remain attached to your torso. That was the kind of devil I knew the Lycan King was.

The guards immediately scrambled backward, leaving me swaying on my feet, bleeding and shivering in the mud as I clutched my crying pup tightly.

The Lycan King stepped forward. The terrifying, bloodthirsty monster that entire nations bowed to stopped inches away from my trembling, pathetic frame.

He reached out. I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for a blow. Bracing for death.

Instead, to my bewilderment, a massive, calloused hand gently cupped my dirt-streaked jaw. It was his –the King’s. His thumb brushed away a tear I didn't know I had shed. The heat rolling off his skin was intoxicating.

"Mine," the King whispered, his deep voice cracking with a raw, savage desperation. 

“You! Mine!”