Claimed by the Alpha King

Aria’s fingers clawed desperately at the rough, cold stone as she was hauled upwards, her nails breaking against the unyielding surface. She was a feather in their grip, her struggles meaningless against the two warriors dragging her from the darkness. The stale, damp air of the dungeon was replaced by a chilling breeze that carried the scent of smoke and iron.

She had lost all sense of time in that lightless pit where Luna Giselle had discarded her. Chaos had erupted overhead after the message arrived—her father’s final, desperate command for the entire Nightshade Pack to scatter. His rebellion against the Alpha King had crumbled. Now, the retribution of the Dominion of the Sun was upon them, and she had been left behind to meet it.

“Please…” The word was a ragged breath, torn from her throat as they emerged into a world painted in fire and shadow.

The scene above was a nightmare given form. Flames licked hungrily at the wooden structures of the village, their orange glow painting macabre shadows on the ground, which was slick with dark, wet patches. The night was a symphony of anguish—screams, pleas, and the final, wet gasps of the dying.

Aria’s heart seized in her chest, a cold, hard knot of dread. Her breath vanished. The evidence was everywhere, in the broken forms littering the earth and the triumphant snarls of the invading warriors. Her father’s pack was being systematically erased.

She asked no questions. The brutal truth was displayed before her in high definition. The Shadowthorn Pack had fallen. Her father, Silas, was not a new king; he was a fugitive traitor.

And she… she was traitor-blood, being marched to her execution.

Aria’s shoulders slumped as she squeezed her eyes shut. Abandoned. Luna Giselle and the others had fled, saving themselves and leaving her, the inconvenient human daughter, as a sacrifice to the Alpha King’s wrath.

They had thrown her to the wolves. Literally.

Now, she would walk into a death she had not earned.

But when the heavy doors of the great hall groaned open and she was shoved inside, a new layer of icy horror seeped into her bones.

They were all there. Every last one of them. Luna Giselle, her perfect posture broken, her other father’s consorts, her half-siblings, even the servants who had turned a blind eye when she was dragged away—all knelt in a trembling row, foreheads pressed to the polished floor.

Waiting.

A sharp cry was cut short by a sickening thud.

The body of her half-brother, Jude, landed beside her with a finality that echoed in the silent hall. Blood, warm and shockingly red, began to pool around him, creeping toward the toes of Aria’s worn boots. She bit down on her tongue, the coppery taste of her own blood mixing with the metallic scent in the air.

A man she recognized stepped forward, his expression as impassive as carved stone. He cleaned his blade on Jude’s tunic with a detached efficiency that was more terrifying than any rage.

“Does anyone else wish to test my patience?” Gamma Donovan’s voice was calm, conversational. The silver trim on his armor gleamed in the torchlight, marking his high rank among the Alpha King’s personal guard.

No one moved. The silence was absolute.

Then his assessing gaze landed on her. “This one’s human,” he stated, his eyes flicking over her slight frame. “Silver is unnecessary.” A guard beside him moved to clamp iron shackles on her wrists regardless.

“Move, traitor-scum,” the guard grunted, giving her a harsh push.

Aria stumbled, her gaze lifting involuntarily and locking with the guard’s. His vile, unguarded thoughts crashed into her mind like a physical blow. ‘Pretty little thing for a traitor’s whelp. A waste to kill her outright. I could have some fun first… see if she screams as prettily as she looks…’

She wrenched her eyes away, nausea churning in her gut. This curse—this unwanted gift of hearing thoughts through a mere glance—had been both a shield and a scourge. It had warned her of dangers, but it also forced her to witness the rot in people’s souls.

“You know the law,” Gamma Donovan announced, his voice ringing coldly in the vast space. “Alpha Silas committed treason. His bloodline pays the price.”

“The rest of the pack may yet earn clemency by swearing fealty,” he continued, letting the implication hang heavily in the air. “But the traitor’s direct family… their fate is for the Alpha King alone to decide.”

The meaning was clear. Kaelen Thorne, the Alpha King of Solaris, was legendarily merciless. For the children of Silas, only one fate awaited.

Then, a voice from the entrance, low and resonant, shattered the tense quiet.

“The Alpha King approaches.”

Aria’s head snapped up.

He entered not with fanfare, but with the quiet, devastating force of a landslide. Gavriel—no, Kaelen Thorne. He was taller, broader, more imposing than any memory or story could capture. Dressed in dark, battle-worn leathers and a fur-trimmed cloak, he moved with a predator’s lethal grace. His eyes, a stormy, piercing gray, swept across the room, and under that gaze, Aria felt utterly laid bare.

He hadn’t uttered a word, yet the very atmosphere in the hall grew denser, charged with a raw, alpha power that demanded submission. It pressed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

For a fleeting, reckless second, her eyes met his.

Nothing.

No whisper of thought, no flash of intent. Just an impenetrable, gray wall. Her gift, which had never once failed her, slid off his consciousness like water off stone.

Why can’t I read him? The thought screamed in her mind, her heart hammering against her ribs. She quickly dropped her gaze, fear icing her veins.

“They are all present, my King,” Gamma Donovan reported. “Except for Alpha Silas, his Beta Cassius, and his son, Jude.” He gestured slightly to the body on the floor.

Kaelen remained silent. His boots echoed on the marble as he paced slowly before the line of captives, his cold gaze cataloging each face—the defiant, the terrified, the broken. He stopped before Luna Giselle.