Chapter 2: The Beast Who Claimed Me

A heavy silence fell over the clearing, broken only by the rustling of the wind through the towering pines.

The warriors of both packs stood frozen, their breaths held in collective shock.

Celia barely registered the pain in her wrists from the silver cuffs.

All she could focus on was Damon Blackwood.

The ruthless Alpha King.

Her mate.

It couldn't be.

Her mind screamed for her to reject the very idea, but her body betrayed her.

The bond pulsed between them, raw and undeniable.

She felt it in the way her skin tingled under his golden gaze, in the way her wolf—silent for years—stirred restlessly within her.

Across from them, Alpha Edgar stiffened.

"You can't be serious, Blackwood."

Damon didn't look away from Celia.

"I never joke."

His voice was a quiet promise laced with menace.

The warriors around them exchanged uneasy glances.

A claim like this shattered centuries-old werewolf law—an Alpha could not claim an enemy's she-wolf without facing severe consequences.

Edgar clenched his fists, his face twisting with disbelief.

"This was supposed to be a trade. She is an offering, not a mate."

Damon's golden eyes darkened.

"Offering?" The single word dripped with venom.

Celia flinched as Edgar sneered.

"She's useless, Damon. She's never shifted. She's a disgrace to our kind."

Damon moved.

One second he stood before her, the next he was gripping Edgar by the throat, lifting him off the ground with terrifying ease.

The Alpha of the Silverclaw Pack gasped, his hands clawing at Damon's iron grip.

The Blackwood warriors didn't flinch.

They only watched in eerie silence.

"I should tear out your throat for those words alone," Damon growled, his voice barely human.

"You dare stand before me and call my mate useless?"

Mate.

Celia's breath caught in her throat.

This was real.

Edgar choked out a laugh despite the pressure against his windpipe.

"You'd break the sacred laws over… over an unshifted mutt?"

Damon's claws lengthened, the tips pressing against Edgar's skin.

"Say another word, and I'll make sure you never say anything again."

A warrior from Edgar's side stepped forward hesitantly. "Alpha, please. The treaty—"

Damon turned his head slightly, his golden gaze flashing.

"The treaty stands because I allow it to. Do you understand that?"

Silence.

Then, slowly, Damon released Edgar.

The Silverclaw Alpha fell to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

Damon exhaled, his body still tense with barely contained fury.

He turned back to Celia.

"Undo the chains," he commanded.

No one moved.

Damon's patience snapped.

"Now."

A warrior rushed forward, fumbling with the key.

The moment the silver cuffs fell away, Celia inhaled sharply, her skin burning where the metal had seared her.

She should have run.

The rational part of her brain screamed at her to escape, to put as much distance as possible between herself and the most feared Alpha in the lands.

But her body refused to move.

Damon stepped closer, and Celia's heart pounded.

His voice softened, just a little bit .

"Celia."

Hearing him say her name sent a strange warmth through her chest.

No.

She forced herself to take a step back.

"I… I don't belong to you," she managed to whisper.

Damon tilted his head slightly, as if considering her words.

"You feel it," he said simply.

"The bond."

Celia clenched her fists.

"I don't want this."

A flicker of something crossed his face. Amusement? Frustration? It was gone too quickly to tell.

Damon let out a slow exhale before taking another step forward.

"Run."

Celia froze.

"What?"

His golden eyes burned into hers.

"If you truly don't want this, then run."

She hesitated.

Damon's lips curled into something almost resembling a smirk.

"Run, and I'll hunt you down myself."

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Not just because they were a warning—but because deep down, some part of her knew she wanted him to chase her.

She wanted to test him.

And that terrified her more than anything else.

The Blackwood warriors remained silent, watching their Alpha with unwavering loyalty.

The Silverclaw pack held their breath, waiting for Edgar to retaliate.

Celia glanced at the trees, her mind spinning.

She should run.

She should flee into the darkness and never look back.

But Damon… he was watching her like a predator watching prey.

A silent challenge.

A promise.

If she ran, he would come for her.

And she wasn't sure what scared her more—that he would catch her, or that she wanted to be caught.

Her throat tightened.

"I won't let you control me."

Damon's gaze flickered with something unreadable.

"That's where you're wrong."

His words were a dark whisper, threading through her bones like a curse.

Celia took a step back.

Then another.

Damon's smirk grew.

He wanted her to run.

His muscles tensed, coiled like a wolf ready to pounce.

Heart pounding, Celia did the only thing she could.

She turned and ran.

The cold night air bit at her skin as she sprinted into the trees, her pulse roaring in her ears.

She didn't look back.

Didn't need to.

Because behind her, Damon let out a low, predatory growl—before vanishing into the darkness after her.

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Celia's lungs burned as she darted between the trees, her bare feet barely making a sound on the forest floor.

She didn't know where she was going—only that she had to move.

Had to escape.

The scent of pine and damp earth filled her nose, but beneath it, she could still feel him.

Damon.

Hunting her.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.

The forest was too quiet.

Too still.

Then—a twig snapped.

Too close.

Celia's heart nearly stopped.

She turned around, eyes scanning the dense shadows.

Nothing.

The wind howled through the trees, whipping her long hair around her face.

Her breathing came in ragged gasps.

She wasn't safe.

Not even close.

A deep chuckle echoed through the night.

"You're fast."

Celia turned toward the voice—only to find nothing but empty space.

Damon was playing with her.

Her fingers curled into fists.

"Stay away from me."

Another laugh. Closer this time.

"I gave you a head start, little wolf," his voice drifted from the shadows.

"But I'm done playing now."

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

Then—movement.

Before she could react, an arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her back against a solid chest.

A warm breath ghosted against her ear.

"Caught you."

Celia gasped.

A mix of fear and something else—something dangerous—curled in her stomach.

Damon's grip was firm , his body heat burning into her skin.

His voice was a dark promise.

"You ran. Now you'll face the consequences."

Celia's breath hitched.

She should have been terrified.

Instead, she trembled for an entirely different reason.

Because this time… she wasn't sure if she wanted to escape.