Chapter two: THE ALPHA’S GRIP

A chill ran down her spine. They were not alone. 

The voice was low, smooth, and laced with a subdued menace that made Lycia’s blood run cold. Her hands were still hovering over the desk, her every instinct screaming at her to turn around, to run, to fight. But she stayed still, her breath shallow, her mind racing. 

This wasn’t part of the plan. But then again, plans in Crimson City rarely survived the night.

Before she could react, a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, pinning her against the wall. She barely had a chance to scream, before air was knocked out of her lungs, and she struggled, but the grip around her wrists was unyielding and too strong. 

His presence was overwhelming, the heat of his body pressing against her back. Her breath came in ragged gasps as his hand slid down her arm, pulling the small dagger she had in crossbody bag from her effortlessly. His fingers lingered on her skin, a dangerous mix of possessiveness and raw power.

Lycia struggled, trying to catch a glimpse of whoever held her. She twisted her head, catching a glimpse of her captor. He was tall, with dark hair falling over his piercing silvery eyes that shimmered with a mix of anger and amusement. 

“You don’t even know what you’re playing with, do you?” His voice was a whisper now, dark and threatening, but there was something else in it, something more primal.

Lycia twisted in his grip, trying to turn, but he only pressed her harder against the wall, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. 

“You’ve made a very big mistake,” he continued, his hot breath sending another wave of shivers down her spine.

 “Breaking into my home. Trying to steal from me.”

Her chest heaved as she tried to speak, but at this moment, words were not her closest ally. His scent, a mix of earth and musk, filled her senses, intoxicating and overwhelming her. 

“Let me go!!!”, she finally managed, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her, making her fear more conspicuous. 

Cove chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating through her body. The weight of his dominance suffocating, pulling her into a dangerous current, one she couldn’t escape from.  

“You think I’m going to just let you walk out of here? 

Before Lycia could respond, another sound cut through the tense silence, a faint creak of a floorboard behind them. Cove’s sharp gaze turned to the shadows, his grip on Lycia’s shoulder tightening instinctively, searching for what made that sound. 

You’re not alone,” he growled, his silvery eyes narrowing as he scanned the room.

 “Who else is here?”

Lycia’s heart sank. She knew exactly who it was, though she couldn’t see her. Raven was here, the plan was her idea, after all. But where was she now?

A sudden burst of movement shattered the existing stillness. From the corner of her eye, Lycia saw Raven darting out from the shadows. Her agile frame moved with practiced agility and speed, a flash of dark silhouette and determination as she sprinted toward the door.

“Raven!!!” Lycia finally shouted, her voice a mixture of desperation and betrayal.

But Raven didn’t stop. She didn’t even look back. Her feet’s pounding against the ground, carrying her farther and farther away from the chaos behind her, from Lycia and whoever held her. 

Cove cursed under his breath, releasing Lycia with a shove that sent her stumbling as he darted towards Raven. His reflexes were surprisingly swift, his hand reaching for Raven before she could escape.

Raven, however, was faster. She tossed something towards Cove. A small glass vail, onto the floor, between them. Probably to distract Cove or something. It shattered on impact, releasing a thick, pungent smoke that filled the room in seconds.

Lycia coughed, her eyes stinging as the world around her became a blur of shadow and smoke. She heard the door slam, followed by Cove’s furious roar.

By the time the air had cleared, Raven was gone. Nowhere to be found. 

Lycia stood frozen, her chest heaving as she stood there, trying to make sense of what just happened to her. The betrayal, it cut deep. Sharper than any blade. Raven had left her. She planned this entire heist, convinced Lycia to come along, and then abandoned Lycia the moment things went south. 

It was devastating for Lycia. She felt betrayed. 

Cove’s gaze snapped back to her, and Lycia felt the full force of his fury. 

“Was she your partner?” he demanded, his voice a deadly growl.

“No,” Lycia said quickly, shaking her head. “She…she betrayed me too!”

His eyes narrowed, assessing her words, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

 “Convenient then”, he said coldly, stepping closer.

 “But I don’t believe in coincidences. You’ll tell me everything, thief. Or you’ll regret it.”

Lycia swallowed hard, the weight of Raven’s betrayal and Cove’s wrath crashing down on her. She had no idea how she was going to get out of this alive, but one thing was clear, that she was on her own now.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Cove’s arms encircled her with a strength that left no room for resistance. His grip,very firm, unyielding, as he effortlessly logs her off the ground, her struggles useless against his beer power. 

Lycia gasped, her fists pounding against Cove’s chest in a desperate attempt to free herself. But it was like one hitting stone, unyielding and impervious. 

“Put me down!!!”Lycia demanded, though her voice wavering with the realization, sinking in with every passing second, that she was utterly at Cove’s mercy. 

Cove didn’t respond immediately. His silence was louder than any retort, with  a kind of calculated patience that made her blood run cold. 

Then, with a sudden swift motion, he spun her around, his hands now gripping her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes. They were silvery, swirling with something dangerous, something hungry.

He was too close, far too close.

Lycia tried to look away, but his grip tightened slightly, the pressure on her shoulders forcing her to stay. 

“I should kill you,” he said, his fingers tracing the side of her neck, brushing lightly against her racing pulse. The contact was maddening, deliberate, with each stroke a reminder of how easily he could end her if he chose. 

 “But I think I have a better use for you.”