Chapter 3 — Meet The Alpha Brothers

AURORA

“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, fear tightening my throat.

The guards didn’t answer. They only dragged me by the arm, shoved me into a cavernous chamber, and slammed the heavy doors behind me.

I stumbled forward, hugging myself to stop from shaking.

The room was vast, its stone walls alive with glowing runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. The domed ceiling arched so high it seemed to swallow the shadows.

Along the perimeter, wolf totems carved from bone stared down at me with hollow eyes, their jaws agape as if mid-snarl.

At the far end of the chamber stood a dais, and on it a throne. It was hacked from black stone shot through with veins of glowing moon-crystal, the surface shifting faintly as if it were breathing.

The seat itself shimmered faintly with silver light, as though it had been kissed by the moon itself.

On either side of the dais curved six lower chairs, each etched with claw marks.

One chair was larger than the rest, probably built for someone of authority, but it was still beneath the power of the throne at the center.

My voice was barely a whisper. “What is this place?”

Before I could take another breath, the heavy double doors creaked open.

A wave of power hit me so violently my knees buckled. My body dropped to the floor before I even realized I was bowing. The air itself seemed to command it.

“Good,” a deep, husky voice rumbled. “You know your place.”

Slow and deliberate footsteps echoed against the stone, each step vibrating in my chest. I forced myself to lift my head.

And my gaze locked with piercing silver eyes.

He was impossibly tall, about six feet five, maybe more with dark brown hair brushing his shoulders. His skin was pale with golden undertones, but what caught my eye were the markings. Intricate runes inked his arms, writhing and alive, glowing faintly with every flex of his muscles.

He looked human, except he wasn't. He had a dangerous aura and the kind of beauty he possessed I wasn't sure any mortal possessed such.

“What is your name?” he asked, his cold silver eyes burning through me.

The chamber was empty but for us and suddenly my mouth went dry.

“A–Aurora,” I stuttered, nearly forgetting my own name.

“Aurora,” he repeated slowly, savoring it. My name on his tongue made my stomach clench.

“Did… did I do something wrong? I’ve just arrived and—”

“Silence!” His voice cracked like a whip.

I flinched, biting my lip to hold back a sob as hatred for my father burned in me. He'd done this to me, thrown me to wolves, literally!

The silver-eyed man’s voice dropped, cold and sharp. “What do you know of the kidnapping?”

My fear scrambled my thoughts. “I—I’m the one who was kidnapped by your people!”

I didn’t have time to regret it because pain ripped through me as the collar at my throat blazed with an intense fire. I screamed, collapsing to the floor, writhing helplessly.

“Please… stop!” I cried out.

“Brother, enough!” a sharper voice rang out.

The pain cut off instantly, leaving me trembling and curled into myself. My body spasmed with aftershocks as tears burned my cheeks.

“Why do you always reach for force, Darius?” the voice snapped. “That isn’t leadership, it’s cruelty.”

“That’s why I’m the Alpha, Draven,” Darius snarled back. “Force is all they understand.”

Another figure stepped forward. Boots appeared in my blurred vision, then a hand reached down. I recoiled, too afraid to touch him.

Darius scoffed. “See? She doesn’t want your help.”

“Only because you’ve broken her with your brutality,” the second voice replied evenly.

I risked a glance upward and I was shocked at the uncanny resemblance to Darius.

They had the same sharp cheekbones, the same body physique but his hair was dark blonde, his eyes shimmering gold. While Darius’s gaze was cold and cruel, Draven’s gaze was filled with warmth.

“You!” Draven exclaimed suddenly, his eyes widening. His gaze locked with mine and his irises glowed faintly, a soft luminescence that sent shivers racing down my spine.

“Stand,” he commanded.

His tone left no room for refusal. Somehow, on trembling legs, I forced myself upright.

“What is it, brother?” Darius asked, suspicion dripping from his words.

Draven frowned. “She’s not the kidnapper, Darius.”

“Kidnapper?” I echoed weakly, my voice cracking.

“Silence,” Darius barked, and my collar sparked painfully against my skin. I whimpered, my knees nearly giving way.

Draven snapped his head toward him. “Enough! She doesn’t know what she’s caught in.”

The brothers were engaged in a staring contest but I couldn't tell if they were playing good cop and bad cop with me or if they truly hated each other’s methods.

Finally Darius snarled, “Fine. Then deal with her yourself.”

Draven turned to me, his expression softer as he held out his hand again. I shrank back until my spine pressed against the wall.

His lips curved, amused at my retreat. He lowered himself to my level, eyes glowing faintly. “Come here, Rory.”

My head jerked up sharply, anger breaking through my fear. “That name is for family,” I spat, bitterness twisting my chest. “And I don’t have any left.”

His smirk widened.

“You don’t speak to my brother like that!” Darius roared, and my collar flared with pain.

I screamed, my body bowing against the agony until it cut off as quickly as it began.

“Stop torturing her like a dog, Darius!” Draven hissed.

I sagged, sobbing, my voice raw. “Please… have mercy.”

Draven’s jaw clenched. “I’m sorry. My brother lacks restraint. What he meant to say is that our scouts saw you near the site where one of our kind was taken. Do you know anything about it?”

My muddled mind spun back to the memory of the man I’d stumbled into before I was dragged here. The Red Hand.

“I… I bumped into a group. They called themselves The Red Hand.”

Draven’s gaze sharpened. Then he turned to his brother with a pointed smirk. “See? This is how you get answers. Without torture.”

Darius’s eyes narrowed. “Or she’s lying.”

“She isn’t,” Draven replied with conviction that startled me.

He didn’t know me, yet he said it like it was absolute truth.

Then he turned back to me. His stare lingered too long before he said, “You’ll come with me. You won’t be joining the other slaves. You’ll serve in my quarters, as my maid.”

“Why?” I demanded, frowning. Every instinct screamed to keep my distance.

Draven stalked forward, each step slow and predatory. I retreated until my back hit the cold stone.

He leaned down, close enough for me to feel his breath. His glowing eyes seared into mine.

“Because, Rory…” His smirk curved like a blade. “You’re the woman of my dreams. And you belong to me.”