Sold by My Father, Claimed by the Alpha

[Kaelan's POV]

In Wolfsbane, Omegas lived like shadows.

I'd known since childhood that to protect myself, I had to hide myself—stand along the corridors, keep my head down, never block anyone's path. When Father passed by, he never spared me a second glance. After Mother Elara disappeared, those days became even harder to bear. Everyone said she had abandoned us, abandoned the Pack, fled like a coward. But the wolf fang necklace she'd left behind still pressed against my collarbone, cold as ice when I was cold, burning like fire when I was hot. I didn't believe them. Someone who would hold me close on dark nights and sing softly wouldn't just vanish without a word.

Later, Father married Seraphine. She didn't need to lift a finger to make me understand there was no place for me in this house. She raised her daughter Mirena to be beautiful, sharp, and proud—always ready to climb over others to get ahead. When Mirena looked at me, it was like looking at a bug she hadn't bothered to crush yet.

Only Lina was different. She would secretly save me a piece of warm bread, press her hands against mine when I was stiff with cold. She was my half-sister from the same mother, and in this house, she was the only person I truly cared about.

So when I knelt outside Father's study, head bowed as I polished his boots, no one thought anything was wrong with that picture.

My first heat began right then.

One second I was clutching the damp cloth, knuckles white. The next, something deep in my pelvis clenched violently, like a hand had reached in and twisted hard. The spasm crawled up the inside of my thighs and shot straight into my lower abdomen. The cloth slipped from my hand, my breathing scattered, and my knees nearly buckled.

"Look up."

The guard's voice crashed down on me.

I slowly raised my eyes, first seeing his holster, then the other guard leaning against the doorframe. One on the left, one on the right. The right one had an old knee injury and favored that leg when he stood. I catalogued it all, keeping my face blank.

The back of my neck suddenly exploded with heat.

I bit my lip, making no sound. Sweat broke out first, but it was cold. The cold sweat sliding down my burning skin made me shiver. But inside, my body felt like it was on fire, especially that spot on my neck—so hot it was almost numb, like someone pressing a red-hot iron there.

Amaris.

My wolf bumped against me from inside my bones, weak but fierce.

The door opened.

"Bring her in," Father said.

I braced myself against the ground to stand, legs so weak I almost collapsed back down. My lower abdomen cramped in waves, feeling desperately empty yet about to burst. I clasped my hands behind my back, nails digging into my palms, forcing myself to walk straight.

Only one lamp was lit in the study. Father stood by the window, another man sat on the sofa—iron-gray coat, wolf-head ring on his finger.

Ironfang.

I could smell it. The scent was like rusted iron soaked in blood, foul enough to turn my stomach.

"This is her?" the man asked.

Father finally turned, his gaze falling on me like I was a piece of merchandise. "Purebred. Sixteen. First heat just starting."

That word cracked across my face like a whip.

The man smiled, his eyes scraping from my face down to between my legs. "Worth the price."

Father said, "I want Wytchwood Ridge."

My ears rang.

That ridge was the border's lifeline. Winter hunting routes, patrol lines, the last path you could take when running for your life—it all centered there.

And he was trading me for it.

"Deal." The Ironfang man stood. "We'll take her tonight."

I stared at Father.

Just look at me once.

He didn't.

He simply raised his chin toward the guards, his tone as flat as if he were disposing of a sack of pelts. "Don't let her cause trouble. Omegas in heat tend to make problems."

I smiled slightly. Very quietly.

A guard grabbed my arm hard. The movement was too rough, making that hot spot on my neck burn fiercer, and my inner thighs spasmed in response. I nearly doubled over right there. The Ironfang man saw it and smiled more disgustingly.

"Clean her up," he said. "Don't let her soil the transport cage."

I jerked away suddenly.

Crack.

The slap snapped my face to the side, immediately filling my mouth with the taste of blood. Amaris thrashed viciously inside my bones, like she wanted to burst out and tear someone's throat apart. But the heat was like red-hot hooks, dragging mercilessly on my nerves, pulling me under. My pelvis contracted in waves, my neck burned, the inside of my thighs grew slick and sticky, shame rising like a tide.

I still lifted my head and looked at Father.

"You'll regret this," I said.

My voice was hoarse but steady.

He finally looked at me once. Cold. Strange.

"Take her away."

They didn't clean me.

They threw me into the transport cage like livestock, iron shackles on my wrists, manacles around my ankles. The cage was suffocatingly dark, cold air from the pine forests leaking through gaps in the wooden boards. I curled in the corner, forehead pressed against the iron bars, desperately fighting each wave of heat that crashed over me harder than the last.

Every jolt felt deliberately aimed at my most vulnerable places.

My thighs cramped severely, deep in my abdomen tightening rhythmically. My neck burned so hot I saw black spots, even my breath scalding. But the sweat was still cold, seeping out in layers, plastering my shift to my back. My teeth chattered, I clenched my legs together desperately, but still couldn't suppress that uncontrollable wetness.

I pressed my forehead harder against the bars, forcing myself to stay alert.

Two guards on the left. One driving up front. At least three horses behind. Spare keys hung outside the cage door, hitting the metal with soft chiming sounds when they moved. Route heading west, downhill first, then into the forest. Past the rocky riverbed, the temperature dropped further. Nearly at the border now.

I memorized it all.

Someone outside laughed.

"You hear that? Wolfsbane's little Omega is in full heat."

"Alaric really was willing to part with her."

"Heard he's trading her for territory."

The laughter mixed with hoofbeats, stabbing at my eardrums.

The curtain was suddenly yanked open. Cold wind rushed in and I shuddered. The driver propped up the curtain to peer inside, then called back with a grin, "Still going at it?"

His other hand reached straight in.

I jerked backward, my spine hitting the cage's iron wall, chains clanking. That hand brushed my ankle, slowly moving up my calf, rough as sandpaper.

"Hot," he said. "Must be hotter inside."

My stomach clenched. The heat kept surging upward, but cold simultaneously seeped out from my bones. Shame and fear twisted together, choking my breath into trembles. His fingers had reached my knee, rubbing through my shift, carrying the stench of tobacco and sweat, so foul I wanted to vomit.

I bit my lip, making no sound.

Remember. I forced myself to remember. I'd settle this later.

Another hand suddenly grabbed my face, turning it toward the moonlight. "Really not bad looking. Just sending her straight to Ironfang? What's wrong with us having a turn first?"

My body shook with both fear and instinct. That spot on my neck felt like something had licked it, burning disgustingly. But I kept my eyes open, memorizing this face too.

"Enough. Don't cause trouble."

The curtain snapped back down. Darkness pressed down again.

I don't know how much time passed before the wind changed.

Colder, wilder, carrying the scent of wet black earth and ancient tree resin.

No Man's Land.

The cage suddenly lurched to a stop. Horses shrieked sharply ahead, the sound of guards drawing blades rang out.

"Who's there!"

I threw myself against the bars, chains rattling.

Then I saw him.

A black wolf stood in the forest shadows—large, silent, his coat so dark it seemed to swallow all the moonlight. Only those amber eyes were visible, staring straight at me through the cage bars.

In that instant, the heat in my body didn't stop—it exploded more fiercely. My neck jumped violently, like invisible fangs had bitten down. Amaris surged in my chest, crashing so hard my ribs ached.

Him.

My breath caught.

The black wolf stepped forward.

A guard cursed under his breath: "Blackthorn wolf?"

"No—that size—"

I couldn't hear anymore. I only watched those eyes. Too close, close enough to reach through the bars and strip away all my pretenses. My thighs still spasmed, sweat sliding down my back, making me shiver with cold. But something more primitive, more terrifying surged through my blood—like the moon had driven a thread into my bones and then yanked hard.

My hands gripping the bars trembled.

"Go..." I didn't know why I said it, my voice so hoarse it was barely sound.

Don't see me like this.

The black wolf didn't move.

Those amber eyes traveled from my flushed face down to where Wolfsbane's mark was branded on my neck. The next second, his entire body went rigid, like a blade suddenly drawn. A terrible pressure exploded in the air—cold, violent—forcing the guards outside to step back in unison.

"Shoot—"

Before the word finished, the black wolf had lunged forward half a step.

Then stopped dead.

As if another force had yanked him back violently.

A low growl rolled from his throat, terrifyingly suppressed. It wasn't aimed at the guards. That sound was directed at himself—like a beast biting its own chain, mouth full of blood, refusing to break free completely.

He recognized something.

I didn't know what it was. But Amaris let out a low, long whine in my chest, as if recognizing a name I didn't yet know.

The cage started moving again.

Tree shadows gradually swallowed those amber eyes. Until the very last moment, he was still watching me. As if he wanted to nail me into his bones forever.