Chapter 3: His Cub

Chapter 3: The Alpha's Possession**

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Damon's dark eyes fell on her, and he could feel her trembling beneath his gaze. His eyes never left her until she exited the courtyard.

Damon’s smirk was replaced with a grim expression as he turned to his right-hand man, Alfred.

"Take her body to my pets in the dungeon," Damon ordered, and Alfred quickly obliged.

Alfred, who had served the Alpha as his Beta and right-hand man, wasted no time passing the instructions to the guards. Something told him his Alpha was in a bad mood, and irritating him further was not the wisest choice—unless he had plans of ending up six feet under.

Damon turned to leave when a young, beautiful lady quickly wound her arms around him.

Amber Leofric, the daughter of the Alpha of the Nightshade Tribe, was the epitome of beauty. She wore a blue gown made of bright, expensive silk, and her blonde hair was neatly arranged in a bun. Like every other lady of high society, she was here to seek a future with the most handsome and powerful Alpha. Amber felt more than flattered that Damon had singlehandedly executed the wretched maid who had stolen her expensive jewelry. Her hopes of becoming his Luna soared.

"I'm very flattered that you went through the trouble to bring the culprit to justice, Alpha Damon," Amber said, her voice demure.

"Aren't you a sweet birdbrain?" Damon scoffed. Amber stylishly removed her hands from his. He had outrightly insulted her in front of his workers. Her cheeks burned red with embarrassment.

"Prepare a carriage for Ms. Leofric; she'll be heading home immediately after breakfast," Damon said as he began walking away.

"Yes, milord," Alfred bowed and quickly left to ensure the carriage was ready.

Amber stood there alone, devastated. She felt like a failure. She had thought their relationship was blossoming, and when he had taken her the previous night, she was happy to give her virginity to him. She never once complained, no matter how many times he took her or how painful it was. In the end, everything had gone down the drain. She would become a laughingstock in the pack.

During breakfast, Amber did her best to sway Damon’s decision, but he ignored her as if she didn’t exist. Amber was nearly in tears as she was escorted to the carriage, while Damon watched expressionlessly from the tower in his room.

"You deserve an award for crushing people's hopes and dreams, milord," Alfred said beside him.

Damon smirked. "But here you are, alive and breathing. Isn’t that your dream? To live—how long?" Damon questioned, a dark smirk on his lips.

"To live to continue serving you, my lord, that's all I could ask for," Alfred replied.

"How boring," Damon said, his elegant fingers slowly trailing the glass window. "It must be sickening, living as a mortal Lycan."

"Not everyone is fortunate enough to be immortal like you, my lord," Alfred said, his words followed by a brief moment of silence.

He watched Damon stare through the window, as though in deep concentration. His dark gray eyes remained cold and expressionless, as always, and his red silky hair was pushed backward, with two rebellious strands falling across his face.

Alfred had been with him since Damon turned sixteen. He had admired his intelligence even at such a young age. Claiming the position of Alpha had been no easy feat, and Alfred didn’t want to delve into those bloody memories anytime soon.

"Tell me, Alfred," Damon began, "if you acquired a commodity, a human, what would you do with it?"

Alfred held back a scoff. He could tell Damon had chosen to use the word "it" because he viewed humans as beneath him—worthless beings. But why would he purchase a human?

"The person could be a slave," Alfred said.

"I already have enough slaves," Damon replied lazily.

"You could make her your personal maid, then," Alfred proposed.

"I remember saying it was a human. Keeping them too close means death," Damon said.

"You could make her your sex tool," Alfred suggested.

Damon’s eyes narrowed as he stared out the window at a particular slave with gray eyes. While the other maids worked in pairs, she was alone, picking up dried twigs from the floor.

Alfred, thinking Damon was considering his suggestions, was stunned by Damon’s next reply.

"Too fragile. She’ll definitely break after the first thrust," Damon said, walking away, leaving Alfred in shock.

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Dressed in a simple, dull silk gown, Zephyr sat in front of the old mirror, loosening her hair. Her long, wavy black hair cascaded down to her waist, and her ethereal gray eyes stared back at her. Despite wearing rags all her life, Zephyr was undeniably beautiful, which often drew harsh treatment and cruelty from the other maids.

Her stomach rumbled in hunger. She hadn’t eaten all day. Quietly, she left her room and made her way to the kitchen through the back door. She often snuck in late at night, after everyone had gone to bed, to avoid further mistreatment from the maids.

She took some bread and butter, placed it on a plate, and ate quickly. Minutes later, she finished the food and drank some water.

Zephyr was heading back to her room when she suddenly heard soft cries and whimpers. Her feet froze in place. Torn between curiosity and avoiding trouble, she hesitated. But as the cries grew louder, Zephyr stepped back, determined to check what it was. If it was something she couldn't intervene in, she would simply return to her room.

Zephyr climbed the long flights of stairs, finally locating the source of the noise in a dark corner. It was a small animal with white fur. What intrigued her was that its eyes were gray like hers.

"What are you?" Zephyr whispered softly. Her gaze fell on the wound on its left leg. She gasped and quickly tore a strip from her already worn-out cloth, carefully tying it around the creature’s leg.

Zephyr cradled the cub in her arms. Surely no one would find out she had kept it—it had been abandoned. She was about to take the cub to her room when she heard footsteps approaching. Zephyr gasped. The suite she was in now belonged to the Alpha and his important guests. If someone found her here, she would be killed.

Panicked, Zephyr ran into an empty room, quickly hiding behind the curtains, holding the cub tightly to her chest. The room was a large study, and she could only pray no one would enter. Her heartbeat raced in her ears—what was she doing? She was digging her own grave, and she could only pray she wouldn't get caught.

She held her breath as fear consumed her when the footsteps grew louder. She prayed the person would turn away, leave, but her prayers were unanswered. The door unlocked, and someone entered.

The sharp, measured footsteps and the cold aura that followed made it clear to Zephyr who had entered. The Alpha. Damon.

A strong wind blew past the window, and that was enough to blow away the curtain that hid her. Zephyr gasped and stumbled backward when she saw him standing in front of her; she hadn’t heard him walk toward her.

His aura was as intimidating and soul-threatening as before. His tousled red hair now fell freely, covering part of his face. The first two buttons of his shirt were left undone, and Zephyr caught a glimpse of his chiseled chest—he looked like a devil. Zephyr took a step back and let out a soft gasp when her back came in contact with the wall. Damon covered the space between them and slammed his hand against the wall beside her head. Zephyr froze completely.

"Tell me, Zephyr," he whispered softly, his cold breath fanning the shell of her ear. "Why are you here in my suite and with my cub?" he asked coldly, and Zephyr knew her death day had arrived.