They didn't tell her where they were. Didn't have to.
She felt it.
The air shifted as they rolled in colder, heavier, electric like a thunderstorm building behind her eyes. The capital wasn't loud. It was quiet. That kind of dead-silent hush that only came when everyone in the area knew something watched from above.
The carriage rattled to a stop on cobblestone, and she caught the first scent of it stone soaked in ancient blood, pine smoke, metal and moonlight. Her body tensed before her mind could name it.
Whatever this place was... it didn't welcome people like her.
The guards didn't speak. Just unlocked the door, shoved the cage open, and yanked her forward by the chain at her throat. Her feet hit the ground hard. Her knees buckled. She didn't fall.
She wasn't giving them that.
The castle loomed above them—tall, jagged towers built into the side of a mountain, stone dark as ash, windows like eyes. This wasn't a royal palace. It was a fucking predator.
Blackened steel gates creaked open ahead. Wolves in armor stood at attention on either side, helmets low over their faces. None of them looked at her. None of them needed to.
The ones escorting her in were shaking. She could smell it. They were sweating through their armor. Their steps were clipped, rushed.
Like they were scared to be seen with her.
Like they knew what she was walking into... and they didn't want it on them.
The halls inside were worse. Cold and cavernous, lit by fire that flickered low in wall sconces. No windows. No warmth. Just silence.
A different kind of power lived here.
Not the kind that needed to show off. The kind that didn't have to.
Every step echoed like a threat.
She didn't ask where she was going. Didn't look around. Just kept her eyes forward and her spine locked.
She already knew.
This was his territory.
And she was being brought to him.
At the end of the corridor, giant black doors waited with two guards on either side, staring dead ahead like statues. One of the men dragging her paused and cleared his throat.
"Prisoner... from Karrnack," he said, voice stiff. "Beta Rake's line. There was... an incident."
The doors didn't open right away.
And for a moment, no one breathed.
Then a sound from the other side. A voice. Low. Deep.
"Bring her in."
The guards moved fast. Too fast. Like they wanted to get it over with. They threw open the doors and shoved her forward with just enough force to make her stumble.
She caught herself.
She didn't look up as she stumbled into the room. She just picked herself up off the floor...
Didn't need to though, because she felt him.
Before her eyes landed on anything and before the guards could even shove her forward, his presence slammed into her chest like a wall.
The air changed. Charged. Every instinct in her body screamed to turn and run. Her knees nearly buckled.
Not from fear.
From something worse.
Possession.
He stood at the top of the room like a storm wrapped in skin but massive, still, dangerous in the way lightning is just before it hits. Light grey eyes tracked her every movement, cold and unreadable, but sparking with something ancient.
They weren't silver. They weren't steel.
They were the color of the storm she'd felt the moment she crossed into this cursed territory.
And she knew, without question...
He was the storm.
Jet black hair, cut sharp and pushed back, made his face even more brutal. Jaw carved from stone, scruff lining his mouth like it was meant to frame the destruction he could deliver with just one word. His body was carved muscle, tall and wide like he was built to split battlefields in half. Tattoos curled up the sides of his neck, disappearing under the black shirt stretched across his chest like it barely contained him.
He didn't sit on the throne.
He stood in front of it.
Watching her.
Staring through her.
And for the first time in her life, she didn't know whether to snarl... or drop to her knees.
She forced her chin up.
If she was going to die, it'd be on her feet.
But the second her eyes met his, everything snapped.
Heat.
Pain.
Something uncoiled in her chest and roared.
His lips parted, jaw clenching hard, breath held like he was trying not to rip apart the world.
And then he moved.
Fast.
Too fast.
One heartbeat he was thirty feet away.
The next, he was in front of her.
Everyone in the room shifted back. Gasps, movement, panic...
He didn't care.
He gripped her chin, forced her eyes back to his.
Mate.
The word wasn't said. It was felt. Burned into her blood.
His hand moved to her neck. Not choking. Holding. Trembling.
And then?
He sank his teeth into her.
Right below her jaw.
No warning. No softness.
Just pure, territorial claiming.
She gasped.
And that's when everything poured into him.
Her memories. Her pain.
The cage. The beatings. The Beta's hands. The bite. The fear. The humiliation. Every second of it, flashing through his mind like a brand to the soul.
And he broke.
His head snapped up, eyes glowing silver-white now, teeth dripping blood.
He turned.
The guards who brought her in hadn't even moved yet. Too stunned. Too slow.
They never got the chance.
He launched across the room like a demon loose from hell attacking the guards that brought her in this condition to him.
The first guard screamed but it was cut short, after that all that could be heard was the crunch of bones and the splat of blood.
Then silence.
The second guard was worse. The king didn't rip him apart.
He peeled him open.
Hands. Claws. Teeth.
By the time it ended, there were more pieces than body.
Blood soaked the marble. The scent of death rolled across the room like smoke.
He stood there, breathing hard, covered in red, chest heaving as he turned back toward her.
Not ashamed.
Not regretful.
Still hungry.
He growled over his shoulder to his Beta without taking his eyes off her.
"Bag the parts. Send them back to Karrnack."
"And the message, my King?"
He didn't blink.
"Tell them next time they touch what's mine... I'll burn their fucking pack to the ground."
Vireya didn't speak.
Couldn't.
Not when the bond was still wrapping around her ribs like iron vines.
Not when the Alpha King's bloody mouth curled into something between a snarl and a smirk...
Like he knew exactly what he'd just done.
And didn't regret a second of it.