Chapter 3 — The Alpha's Claim

Lucian Vale

The tension of the Slave Market still hung in the air as Lucian watched Darius drag Evelyn from the platform. Her defiance lingered with him, sharp and biting, like the aftertaste of a bitter drink. Few dared to meet his gaze as she had, fewer still with the audacity to mock him in the process. Her words, her fire—it was as if she didn’t know the precariousness of her position. Or worse, she did, and she didn’t care.

Lucian exhaled slowly, his silver eyes following her retreating form. The clamor of the market resumed around him: werewolves negotiating over human captives, their voices rising over the cries and protests of the enslaved. It was the same chaos, the same brutality, day after day. But for the first time in a long while, something had shifted. This wasn’t the usual monotony of power and conquest. Evelyn was different.

“You’re keeping her?” Marcus’s voice interrupted his thoughts. His second-in-command had approached silently, his expression carefully neutral, though disapproval lingered beneath the surface.

Lucian turned, his piercing gaze meeting Marcus’s with the weight of authority. “She’s mine,” he stated flatly, leaving no room for argument.

Marcus hesitated, his eyes flicking toward where Darius had disappeared with Evelyn. “She’s dangerous, Lucian. You saw how she handled herself against the scouts. She’s not just another captive.”

“That’s precisely why she’s mine,” Lucian said, his tone calm but laced with finality.

Marcus’s frown deepened, worry etched into the lines of his face. “Ronan won’t let this go,” he added. “He’s already watching for weaknesses. This... could give him one.”

“That’s my concern, not yours,” Lucian replied, his voice low but cutting. “Have Darius bring her to my quarters when they arrive at the compound. I’ll deal with her personally.”

“Yes, Alpha.” Marcus’s tone was clipped as he inclined his head and turned to leave, though Lucian could sense the skepticism simmering beneath his obedience.

Lucian lingered on the platform, his gaze sweeping over the restless market as he considered the implications of the day’s events. Evelyn Carter. He hadn’t needed Darius to tell him her name; her reputation had preceded her. The resistance whispered of her like a ghost—impossible to catch, slipping through their grasp time and time again. And yet, here she was. Captured. Branded. Dragged before him like a caged animal.

But she didn’t act like prey. She acted like a threat, and that was what intrigued him most.

He descended the platform, his movements fluid and deliberate. The crowd instinctively parted as he passed, their gazes lowering in submission. The thought of Ronan’s smug expression earlier soured his mood further. The ash-blond alpha had always been a thorn in his side, circling like a vulture, waiting for a moment of weakness. The way Ronan had eyed Evelyn, the casual threat in his tone—it grated against Lucian’s nerves.

She’s mine.

The declaration had been more than a claim. It had been a warning. Ronan would test him, of that Lucian had no doubt. But for now, the other alpha had backed down.

Lucian’s jaw tightened as he strode toward the gates leading to the compound. He needed to understand what Evelyn represented—why she burned so brightly in a world that had long since been snuffed out.

---

The compound loomed in the distance, its jagged stone walls cutting against the dusky horizon. The scent of pine and wet earth filled the air as Lucian passed through the open gates. The guards stationed there straightened at his approach, their expressions a mixture of respect and wariness. He returned their nods with only a glance, his mind already on what awaited him inside.

The transition from the chaos of the market to the cold order of the compound was palpable. The central hall’s stone walls, lit by flickering torches, seemed to absorb sound, muting the outside world. The air here was heavy, carrying the faint scent of wet stone and iron, the kind of stillness that demanded discipline.

Before long, the heavy oak doors to his private quarters creaked open. Darius and another pack member escorted Evelyn into the room. Her wrists were bound, the rope digging into her skin, but her movements were deliberate, unbowed. Her hazel eyes swept over the room, assessing with a sharpness that didn’t escape Lucian’s notice.

Lucian motioned for the guards to leave. Darius hesitated, the disdain in his curled lip clear, but a single sharp glance from Lucian sent him retreating without a word.

Now alone, Lucian approached Evelyn slowly, his footsteps echoing against the stone floor. She turned her gaze on him, her expression guarded but fierce, meeting his eyes without flinching.

“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to the sturdy wooden chair positioned near the center of the room.

Evelyn didn’t move. “You dragged me here. You can make me sit.”

Lucian’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening his usually impassive demeanor. “Defiant to the end,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Still, he stepped closer, his towering frame casting a long shadow over her. “You’ll find that I am not as patient as some of my subordinates,” he said, his voice low but charged with authority. “Now, sit.”

For a moment, he thought she might refuse again, but then she relented, lowering herself into the chair with deliberate slowness, as if to remind him that this was her choice, not his.

Lucian leaned against the edge of the table nearby, crossing his arms as he studied her. Her disheveled appearance—dirt smudged across her face, exhaustion in her limbs—did nothing to diminish the quiet intensity she radiated. Even now, bound and captured, she demanded attention.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said finally, breaking the silence.

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. “Disappointed?”

“Not yet.”

Her jaw tightened, but she said nothing. Instead, her gaze flicked to the room around her, lingering on the walls and door. She wasn’t just looking; she was cataloging. Weaknesses. Escape routes. It was what Lucian would have done in her position.

“You won’t find any,” he said.

Her eyes snapped back to his. “What?”

“Flaws. Vulnerabilities. I built this compound to withstand far greater threats than you. But if you’re determined to try, by all means.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her frustration flickering through her defiant mask.

“Why am I here?” she asked finally. “If you brought me to gloat, you’ll be disappointed.”

Lucian straightened, his expression hardening. “You’re here because you’re different. And I don’t mean your resistance ties or your ability to land a lucky punch.” His gaze dropped briefly to the faint scar on her forearm where the brand had been seared into her skin. “You survived something that should have broken you. I want to know why.”

Evelyn leaned back in the chair, her defiance returning in full force. “Maybe I just hate you all enough to keep going.”

Lucian allowed the silence to stretch between them, letting the weight of his presence press against her defenses. But Evelyn didn’t flinch. She was like tempered steel—hardened in fire, unyielding.

“You can hate me all you want,” Lucian said finally. “It changes nothing. You’re here, and I will understand you—with or without your cooperation.”

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. “Understand me? Is that what you call keeping me in chains?”

“It’s what I call ensuring my pack’s survival.”

She scoffed, the sound sharp and bitter. “Your kind already won. What more do you want?”

Lucian didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his silver eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made even her defiance falter for a fraction of a second.

“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “The war isn’t over. Not while people like you exist.”

Evelyn’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with a glare, her silence more telling than any retort could be.

Lucian straightened, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’re not a prisoner, Evelyn. You’re an opportunity. One I suggest you take advantage of.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and strode toward the door. He paused briefly before exiting, his voice cold and final.

“Rest while you can. We’ll speak again soon.”

The heavy door closed behind him with a resounding thud, leaving Evelyn alone in the dimly lit room. And though Lucian couldn’t see her, he knew she was already planning her next move.

So was he.