THE CAPTIVE'S LOVE CHAPTER 2

Later.The Alpha's Quarters

The room was cold, large, and confining. It was nothing like the warm rooms she'd grown up in. Now, she was in her enemy's den.

Vladimir stood by the fireplace, his back to her, exuding dominance without ever saying a word.

Emereah sat on the cold stone floor, wrists still bound, seething at him.

Finally, he spoke.

"Do you know why you're still alive?"

She didn't answer.

Vladimir turned, taking slow, deliberate steps towards her.

"You think it's because of your beauty?" he mused. "That I want you for myself?" He laughed, shaking his head. "I do not care for such petty things."

Emereah swallowed the lump in her throat. Then why? Why keep her alive?

He dropped down, reaching out—his fingers tracing her jaw, lifting her chin.

"You will break," he said, voice soft but lethal. "But I will choose when."

Her heart pounded.

"And if I don't?" she whispered.

His smirk was nothing more than cruelty.

"Then I will enjoy watching you suffer."

Silence between them. A battle of wills. A silent war.

Then he stood, turning away as if she was nothing more than a fleeting thought.

"Get her cleaned up," he ordered. "And see that she understands what happens when a slave disobeys."

The door opened, and two guards stepped in. A cruel fate awaited her.

But as they took her arms and pulled her away, Emereah Blade did not scream. She did not beg.

She only smiled.

Because Vladimir Crown was right about one thing.

She would break.

But not in the way he expected.

The iron cuffs dug into Emereah's wrists as she was dragged under the Red Crescent Moon Pack's fortress into the shadows. Her body ached with the day's shame, but the fire in her heart burned brighter than ever.

Two guards thrust her into a dark room—Vladimir's personal chamber.

The heavy doors slammed shut behind her.

She scarce had time to breathe before a cold voice sliced through the air.

"Kneel."

Emereah stood stiff as a statue.

Vladimir stood beside the great fireplace, its flames casting a wicked glow on his sharp face. His golden eyes burned with something unreadable, something deadly and treacherous.

Emereah stood firm.

"Do it yourself," she spat, her silver eyes flashing with defiance.

A cold, slow smile crept across his lips.

"You're pushing me, princess."

He covered the distance in three powerful strides before clamping his fingers around the back of her jaw, making her lift her gaze to his. His touch wasn't soft—it was a warning, a threat wrapped in something almost intimate.

"You belong to me," he whispered, his voice low, possessive. "Your pride, your body, your very breath—I claim them all."

Emereah's heart pounded. She wanted to look away, to shatter his grip, but she wouldn't. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Instead, she smiled. Mocking. Defiant. Unyielding.

"Then why do you look at me like I'm more?"

His smirk disappeared.

Something deadly flickered in his gaze.

Without warning, he released her chin—only to encircle his fingers around her throat instead, pressing her back against the wall.

"You overestimate your worth, slave." His fingers tightened slightly, just enough to make her gasp. "I look at you the way a hunter looks at his prey."

A cruel, unbearable silence stretched out between them.

Then, to her horror—he leaned in.

His breath tickled her skin, making her shiver. Too close. Too intimate.

"I could break you," he breathed, his lips inches from her ear. "Right here. Right now."

Emereah gasped hard, her heart pounding.

"Then do it."

Vladimir hesitated.

For the first time since his breathtaking abduction, his mask fell.

There was a softening of the grip around her throat, the first in days.

Just long enough for her to whisper, "You won't."

His jaw clenched. The air between them shifted.

This wasn't dominance anymore. This was something else. Something they couldn't control.

The moment was shattered by the creak of the door swinging open.

"Vladimir!"

Alexandria's voice was cold, dripping with venom.

Vladimir didn't react. Didn't even look away from Emereah.

And Alexandria saw it.

Saw the way his fingers still rested on Emereah's throat. Saw the way their eyes were locked, tension crackling between them like a storm about to break.

Something inside of her snapped.

"She's a slave!" Alexandria spat, rushing forward. "She should be in the dungeons, not your chambers! Or have you already forgotten what she is?"

Emereah released a soft laugh.

"Afraid, Alexandria?" she whispered, eyes flicking towards the future Luna. "You should be."

That was all it took.

Alexandria attacked again this time, claws.

Vladimir finally looked at her, eyes dark.

"You think you've won something tonight?" His voice was softer now, almost taunting. "Do not confuse my words with mercy, Emereah."

She cocked her head, watching him.

"Then what should I confuse them with?"

His smirk was back. Deadly. Calculated.

"You'll see soon enough."

He crept closer, his fingers stroking her new bruise.

"You are fire," he breathed. "And fire is lovely… until it burns."

Emereah refused to look away from his eyes.

"Then let's burn together."

Vladimir took a sharp breath. His hand dropped, his face expressionless.

The room still vibrated with the tension of their final words. A challenge. A promise.

"Then let's burn together."

Vladimir had taken a sharp breath at her defiance. Now, with silence between them, something stirred in his golden eyes—something dark, something unreadable.

A slow, mocking smile twisted his lips. Predatory. Amused. Deadly.

"You really don't know when to bow, do you?" he mused, voice as smooth as silk but as sharp as a blade.

Emereah stood firm. Her silver eyes, fierce as the moonlight, pierced him with unwavering defiance.

"If you wanted me on my knees, Alpha," she taunted, "you'd have to break me first."

His smile grew wider. "Is that an invitation?"

Before she could take a step, Vladimir moved.

Faster than a breath.

In one swift motion, he caught her wrist and pulled her forward—too close, too fast. Her chest almost touched his, and the heat of his body seared through her torn, bloodied dress.

His fingers curled around her skin, not hard enough to bruise but hard enough to remind her exactly who held the power. And yet, it wasn't cruelty alone in his grip—it was control, possession.

"You should be afraid of me, Emereah," he whispered, voice dark, tinged with something primal.

She tilted her head, lips parting in mock amusement. "Should I?"

His grip hardened. A flash of something anger? Desire? danced in his golden eyes.

"I can make you beg," he whispered. "I can make you crawl."

Her nails ripped at Emereah's cheek, leaving a bruise behind.

The pain burned, but Emereah did not flinch. Instead, she simply turned her head and smiled, the silver blazing in her eyes like a wolf that could not be held back.

Vladimir stood there, observing them both, thinking.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"Alexandria."

His voice was unemotional, cold.

She stiffened.

"I will never let you touch what belongs to me without my consent, Alexandria."

The silence in the room hung so thickly it felt palpable.

Alexandria's face went white. "What?"

Vladimir turned, finally looking at her. His face was unemotional, but what he said next was absolute.

"I said… do not touch what is mine."

Emereah's breath caught.

Mine.

Alexandria shook with barely suppressed rage. "She's nothing, Vladimir! Nothing! And yet you—"

Vladimir's eyes blazed. "Get out."

Alexandria's mouth opened, a strangled sound momentarily escaping her throat.

"You… You're choosing her over me?"

Vladimir's voice was a knife.

"I am choosing to remind you of your place."

Alexandria felt a whirlwind of emotions as she stepped back, her hands tightly clenched. Fear, anger, and sadness mixed in her heart. When she turned and left, the door slammed shut, echoing her turmoil.

The silence that remained was heavy.

Emereah observed Vladimir. He hadn't stood up for her. He hadn't leaped in to protect her when Alexandria slapped her.

But.

He had claimed her.