Chapter 3 THE ALPHA KING.

Seren’s POV

The silence was the worst part.

In the Outer Wards, there was always noise. The distant bark of a dog, the wind rattling the thin tin roofs, the sound of my father’s labored breathing in the next room. Silence meant death. Or worse—it meant being forgotten.

I sat on the freezing stone floor of the cell, my arms wrapped around my knees, staring at the iron door.

My mind was a jagged mess of images. My father’s shaking hands. The smell of the market. The way Prince Aiden had looked at me…

“The debt is paid,” the Mage had said.

Four words. That’s all it took to dismantle my entire life. I had spent twenty years being a daughter, a provider, a shield. And in five seconds, I had been turned into a transaction. A piece of property sold to pay for a house I would never step foot in again.

The betrayal was a physical weight in my chest, heavier than the stone walls surrounding me.

I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry and burning. Rage was a much more effective fuel than grief.

“I’m going to kill him,” I whispered into the dark. I wasn't sure if I meant the Mage, the Prince, or the man who had raised me. Maybe all of them.

The bolt on the door slid back with a screech that set my body on the edge.

I scrambled to my feet, pressing my back against the damp wall. My wolf was a dead feeling on my soul, suppressed by whatever poison they had pumped into the air. Without her, I felt small. Vulnerable…human.

Two guards entered first. They didn't speak. They didn't have to. They just stepped aside to let a man in grey robes walk in.

He was older, his face etched with the kind of lines that only come from a lifetime of doing terrible things for "the greater good." He held a leather-bound folder.

“Subject 412,” he said, sparing me a glance. “Vitals look stable. The Wolfbane dosage was correct.”

“My name is Seren,” I snapped, my voice rasping. “And if you don’t let me out of here, I’ll make sure the Council hears about this kidnapping.”

The Mage looked up from his folder, a ghost of a smile touching his  lips. “The Council is the one who signed your intake forms, Seren. Your father was very thorough with the paperwork. He even checked the box for ‘high-risk experimental waiver’ for an extra thousand credits.”

The air left my lungs in a rush. A waiver. He didn’t just sell me; he had given them permission to break me.

“Why?” I forced the word out. “Why me? I’m a Beta. I’m nobody.”

“You’re a Beta with a rare blood-type compatibility and a remarkably high pain threshold,” the Mage said, stepping closer.

“The Alpha King is dying, Seren. Not his body, but his mind. Since the Queen died twenty-five years ago, his wolf has had no anchor. That makes him a ticking time bomb that will destroy this pack if we don’t ground him.”

“And I’m supposed to be the anchor?” I guessed, my stomach churning.

“Exactly.” He gestured to the guards. “Take her to the Chamber of Resonance. We’re behind schedule.”

The guards didn’t hesitate. They grabbed my arms. I fought—I kicked, I bit, I screamed until my throat felt  raw, painful but it didn't matter—they didn’t stop.

They dragged me through a maze of sterile, white-lit corridors that felt more like a laboratory than a palace.

The Chamber of Resonance looked like a nightmare.

It was a circular room with a single slab of black big stone in the center. Strange, violet runes were carved into the floor, glowing with a faint, pulsing light. The air here felt thick, like I was walking through water.

“Strip her,” the Mage commanded.

“No!” I lunged for the door, but a guard caught me by the hair, wrenching my head back.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, 412,” the guard muffled through his mask. “The sooner you submit, the sooner the pain stops.”

“I’ll never submit to you,” I hissed, even as they tore the thin material from my body.

They hoisted me onto the black stone. It was ice-cold against my bare skin.

They strapped my wrists and ankles down with heavy leather bands lined with silver—the metal that burned. I hissed as the silver bit into my flesh, smelling the faint scent of my own burning skin.

“This is the first infusion,” the Mage said, standing over me with a long, thin needle filled with a dark red liquid. “We are going to rewire your nervous system to respond to the Alpha King’s wolf command. It will feel like your blood is boiling. Try to stay conscious. The experiment is better that way.”

“Go to hell,” I spat.

He didn’t respond. He just plunged the needle into my neck.

The world behind my eyes exploded.

It wasn't just pain.  It felt like someone had poured molten lead into my veins.

My eyes flew open, but all I could see was white.

I arched my back, my muscles seizing as the liquid

went through me, hunting for my wolf, trying to force her to her knees.

Fight it, Seren.

My internal voice was screaming.

Don’t let them in. Lock the doors. Hide.

But the pain was everywhere. It was stripping away my layers, searching for the core of who I was.

I felt my memories flickering—my mother’s smile, the taste of a stolen apple, the feeling of the sun on my face. The ritual was eating them, replacing them with a single, crushing directive: Obey.

“Response is optimal,” I heard the Mage’s voice from a million miles away. “Heart rate is 180. The wolf is reacting.”

Suddenly, the white light in my vision turned to a deep, bloody red.

The ground beneath the stone began to shake. It wasn't a tremor; it was a heartbeat. A massive, slow, thumping rhythm that vibrated through the room and into my spine.

And then, I felt him.

A presence so strange and dark it felt like a mountain was falling on me. It was raw power,  broken and screaming in the dark.

It was the King’s.

His wolf hit my consciousness like a tidal wave. He was angry. He was grieving. He was hungry.

And my own wolf, who had been hiding in the deepest corner of my mind, suddenly stood up. She didn't growl. She didn't fight. She let out a sound I had never heard before—a soft, submissive whine that vibrated in the back of my throat.

No, I pleaded. Don’t give in.

But the King’s presence was pulling at me, dragging me toward him through the dark. I could smell him—forest fire, cedarwood, and rain. It was the most intoxicating thing I had ever experienced.

My body, despite the pain, began to ache for the source of that scent.

“Look at the runes,” the Mage whispered, his voice full of awe. “They’re turning gold. That’s impossible. Gold is for a fated mate bond, not a forced anchor.”

“Something is wrong!” a guard shouted. “The Alpha... he’s moving! He has broken through the level four containment!”

A howl shattered the chaos of the room. It was loud. Skull shattering. It was the sound of a monster losing his mind.

The walls of the chamber cracked, dust and stone raining down on us.

The Mage scrambled back, dropping his folder. “Seal the doors! Double the Wolfbane in the vents! Now!”

The pressure in my head reached a breaking point. I felt a snap—like a literal string breaking in my chest.

The pain vanished.

In its place was a tether. A shimmering, unbreakable cord of light that stretched from my heart, through the stone walls, and out of it.

I looked at the door of the chamber. My vision was clear now. Sharper than it had ever been.

I could see the molecules of dust dancing in the air. I could hear the panicked heartbeats of the guards.

And I could hear him coming.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

“He’s here,” I whispered, a strange, terrifying calm settling over me.

The guards leveled their spears at the door. The Mage was shaking so hard he could barely stand.

The door didn't just open. He broke it.

A blast of energy blew the guards back like ragdolls, slamming them into the stone walls. The Mage was thrown into the corner, unconscious before he hit the ground.

Smoke and dust filled the air.

Through the haze, a figure emerged. He was tall—impossibly tall with shoulders that seemed to fill the entire  doorway.

He wasn't wearing a crown. He was wearing a shredded shirt and trousers, his skin covered in the same ritual markings that were burned into mine.

His hair was a dark mess, and his eyes... God, his eyes. They weren't blue or brown. They were glowing gold, swirling with a beautiful fire.

He stepped into the room, his gaze sweeping over the carnage until it landed on me.

I was naked, strapped to a stone slab, covered in sweat and blood. I should have been terrified. I should have screamed.

But as his eyes locked onto mine, my wolf didn't just kneel. She whined.

The King walked toward me, his movements slow and predatory. Every step he took made me shudder.

He stopped at the edge of the slab, his shadow falling over me like a shroud.

He leaned down, his face inches from mine. His breath was hot against my skin and reached out, his large, scarred hand hovering over my throat. I held my breath, waiting for the killing blow.

Instead, his fingers brushed against the silver-lined leather strap on my wrist. With a flick of his hand, the leather snapped like it was made of flimsy material.

He did the same to the others, freeing me in seconds.

I sat up, clutching my arms around my chest, trembling.

The King didn't speak. He didn't offer me a cloak. He just stared at me with those burning gold eyes, his chest heaving as if he’d just run a hundred miles.

Then, he leaned in, his nose brushing against the pulse point in my neck. He took a deep, shaky breath, and a low rumble vibrated in his chest.

“Mine,” he growled.

The word sent a jolt of electricity through me, more powerful than any ritual needle.

But then, his eyes shifted. The gold flickered and died, replaced by a cold, piercing grey that was full of anger.

He looked at me, then at the room, then at the unconscious Mage.

His hand dropped from my neck, and his expression  shifting.

“Who the hell are you?” he demanded.

Before I could answer, a second set of footsteps echoed in the hallway.

“Father!”

I froze. I knew that voice.

Prince Aiden hurried into the room, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. He looked at the King, then at the injured guards, and finally, his gaze landed on me.

His face went pale. Then red. Then a dark, dangerous shade of purple.

“You,” Aiden whispered, his eyes fixed on me. “What are you doing in my father’s chambers?”

The King turned to look at his son, his eyes narrowing. “You know this girl, Aiden?”

Aiden stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. “She’s the one I chose, Father. She’s my bride.”

The King’s growl returned, louder and more violent than before. He stepped in front of the slab, shielding me with his body.

“No,” the King said,  “She’s not.”

He turned back to me, his grip on my shoulder tightening until it bruised.

“She’s my mate. And she is off limits”

Aiden’s face twisted, “We’ll see about that.”

Outside, the palace bells began to toll—a frantic, clanging alarm that signaled only one thing.

War.