Claimed by the alpha

Alexander's POV

The night my family was destroyed, the moon turned red as blood.

It's a sight seared into my memory, vivid and unrelenting-the haunting crimson glow that bathed the snow-covered woods, casting long shadows through the skeletal branches. I was only a boy then, barely old enough to shift, but old enough to feel the power in the air. Old enough to know something terrible was about to happen. My father had warned me: "Stay in the woods, Alexander. Do not come back to the manor no matter what you hear."

I remember hiding in the hollow of an ancient oak, trembling as howls and screams echoed through the trees. The sounds of battle-of wolves clashing, jaws snapping, bodies hitting the ground. I dug my claws into the rough bark, holding on to the scent of blood and fur that wafted through the night, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

And then silence.

I should have stayed hidden. I should have listened to my father's command, but some twisted instinct drove me out of that hollow and into the clearing beyond the woods. What I saw when I emerged from the darkness would haunt me for the rest of my life.

The once-grand Knight family manor was a blazing inferno, flames licking hungrily at the stone walls as if trying to devour every last remnant of my family's legacy. Bodies littered the ground-wolves and humans alike, twisted and broken, their blood painting the snow crimson. And in the center of it all, beneath the scarlet moon, stood a figure draped in a robe as dark as midnight.

The Curse Keeper.

She was unlike anything I'd ever seen, a phantom from the deepest pits of a nightmare. Her face was hidden beneath the shadows of her hood, but her eyes glowed-redder than the moon above, sharper than a blade. I knew without a doubt that she was the one responsible for the slaughter. The air around her pulsed with dark magic, a palpable force that made my wolf snarl and struggle beneath my skin, demanding release.

"You shouldn't be here, little wolf," she said, her voice a low, silky murmur that sent chills racing down my spine. "But it's too late now, isn't it?"

I didn't respond. My gaze was fixed on the figure crumpled at her feet-my father. Alpha Marcus Knight, the strongest Alpha in the entire Northern Territories, the man I had always thought invincible, lay broken and bleeding, his chest heaving with labored breaths. His silver fur was matted with blood, his once-mighty frame shrunken and weak.

"Father-" I choked, taking a step forward, but the Curse Keeper lifted a slender hand, and invisible chains wrapped around my limbs, yanking me back. Pain flared through my body, hot and blinding, and my wolf, Fenrir, roared inside me.

Let me out! he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that reverberated through my bones. We'll tear her apart!

But I couldn't. I couldn't even move.

"Such fire," she mused, tilting her head as if studying me. "The blood of Alphas runs strong in your veins, little one. But that won't save you."

With a flick of her wrist, the chains tightened, forcing me to my knees. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out even as agony raked through every nerve. The Curse Keeper turned her gaze back to my father, who was struggling to lift his head.

"Do you know why I'm here, Marcus?" she asked softly. "Do you know why your bloodline must be purged?"

My father's growl was weak, but defiant. "Because you're a coward."

Her laughter was soft, almost musical-a sound so incongruous with the carnage around us that it made my stomach twist.

No," she murmured. "I am here because of a promise. A promise made centuries ago, when your ancestors betrayed mine. You see, the Knights are cursed, Alpha Marcus. Cursed to lose everything they love. And tonight, that curse reaches its zenith."

She reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a small, twisted dagger. The blade was black as pitch, etched with runes that pulsed with a sickly green light. My father stiffened, his eyes widening with recognition-and fear.

"This blade was forged in the heart of a dying star," the Curse Keeper whispered, running a finger along its edge. "It will seal your fate, Marcus. The fate of your entire line."

"No!" I shouted, struggling against the chains, but they only tightened, digging into my flesh until I could taste blood. Fenrir howled in rage, clawing at the barriers that held him trapped inside me.

The Curse Keeper glanced at me, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in her gaze-something almost like pity.

"This is for your own good, little wolf," she murmured. "For if the curse is not sealed, your true mate will be your undoing."

With that, she drove the blade into my father's heart.

A howl tore from my throat, raw and savage, as my father convulsed, his body arching off the ground. The runes on the dagger flared bright, and a web of dark energy erupted from the wound, spreading outwards like a spider's web. It lashed through the air, winding around my father's body, then shooting towards me.

I screamed as the curse wrapped around my chest, searing into my flesh. The world dissolved into a haze of pain and darkness, my vision narrowing until the only thing I could see was the Curse Keeper's face, those glowing red eyes boring into mine.

"Remember this, Alexander Knight," she whispered, her voice echoing in my skull. "You are bound to this curse until the day your true mate walks into your life. But know this-she will be the key to your destruction. Her bloodline will bring ruin to everything you have built. You will lose control, lose everything, the moment you dare to love her."

And then she was gone, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost, leaving me alone with the smoldering ruins of my home and the broken body of my father.

The curse never left me.

It stayed with me through the years, a dark shadow lurking beneath my skin, whispering its poison in my ear. Every time I tried to feel-tried to care, to let anyone close-the curse tightened its grip, reminding me that I was marked. Damned. That I would bring ruin to anyone I dared to love.

I learned to lock it away, to bury every emotion, every weakness, beneath layers of steel and ice. I built walls around my heart, forged an empire out of blood and power, and made myself a fortress no one could breach.

And yet, even now, centuries later, I can still hear her words. She will be your undoing.

My wolf, Fenrir, growls softly in the back of my mind, his presence a dark, comforting weight. We will not break, he rumbles. We will never let anyone close enough to hurt us.

"No," I agree quietly, staring out at the city skyline from the penthouse office of Knight Enterprises. The moon is full tonight, its silver light gleaming off the glass and steel towers that rise around me like sentinels. But I feel no peace, no satisfaction. Only the familiar, hollow ache of loneliness.

"We will never love."

But even as I say the words, I can feel the curse stirring, shifting, as if in anticipation. As if it knows something I don't.

Fenrir's growl deepens, a warning rumble that reverberates through my chest.

She's coming, he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. Our mate. The one we're destined to destroy.

I clench my fists, a shiver of something cold and sharp slicing through me. Fear. Rage. Desire.

"No," I whisper, my eyes narrowing as I stare out into the night. "We'll kill her before she can destroy us."

Because I am Alexander Knight. Alpha. CEO. And I will not let anyone-not even my mate-tear down what I've built.

Not again.

Never again.

Alexander's POV

The city was cloaked in darkness, its heartbeat a steady, rhythmic pulse that echoed through the streets. Neon lights flickered outside his car window, painting flashes of crimson and gold across the sleek black vehicle as it glided silently down the road. Even after centuries of existence, the nightlife's allure held a certain charm-just not enough to drown out the ceaseless roar inside his head.

"You're restless."

Fenrir's voice slid through his mind, a gravelly growl that vibrated along his nerves. He could feel the wolf's energy, coiled tight and dangerous beneath the surface, straining against the edges of his control. It was a sensation he was intimately familiar with-the beast's impatience, its unrelenting hunger.

"I'm fine," Alexander muttered, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel as he turned onto a quieter street, heading toward his penthouse.

"You're lying." Fenrir's voice rumbled, dripping with dark amusement. "I can feel it. You're thinking about her, aren't you?"

Alexander's jaw tightened, and he forced his thoughts away from the cursed memories he'd tried so hard to bury. "It's irrelevant," he snapped. "The past doesn't matter."

"But it does," Fenrir whispered, his tone softer now, like a breath of wind through a winter forest. "She's the reason we're alone. She's the reason we're... broken."

Alexander's grip tightened on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under the pressure. He knew what Fenrir meant. That night centuries ago-the night the Curse Keeper had sealed his fate-had shattered something fundamental within him. But he couldn't afford to dwell on it. Not now.

He pulled into the underground parking of his building, the car's engine purring softly before he killed the ignition. Taking a deep breath, he leaned back, eyes closing for a brief, stolen moment of peace.

Control. Always, control.

He stepped out of the car, the silence of the garage wrapping around him like a shroud. His steps echoed softly as he made his way to the private elevator, the doors sliding open with a muted hiss. By the time he reached his penthouse, the city was alive with the sounds of nightlife-laughter, music, the hum of distant traffic. Yet within the towering fortress of glass and steel, there was only silence.

And solitude.

Alexander moved through the spacious living area, his gaze skimming past the minimalistic décor, the walls lined with art that spoke of eras long past. This place was a sanctuary, a retreat from the world's chaos. But it was also a cage.

A soft chime interrupted his thoughts. Frowning, he turned toward the source-the glowing screen of his personal computer.

He'd forgotten about the interviews.

With a low curse, he crossed the room, his long fingers tapping commands into the sleek device. The digital interface flickered to life, displaying a series of profiles-the potential assistants his HR team had lined up for him. Each one was neatly categorized, their faces and résumés detailed in cold, clinical precision.

Fenrir stirred. "Boring."

Alexander's lips twitched in reluctant agreement as he scrolled through the profiles. A few promising candidates stood out-highly qualified, with backgrounds in management, finance, and logistics. But there was something... hollow about them. Predictable. Safe.

He didn't want safe.

Not tonight.

"I'll deal with it later," he muttered, already losing interest. He was about to shut the screen off when a name caught his eye.

"Elena Belrose."

The profile was plain compared to the others, the woman's credentials modest at best. A fresh graduate, with experience limited to internships and a few freelance projects. Nothing remarkable. Nothing that should have stood out.

But it did.

He clicked on her photo, enlarging it until the face filled the screen. Dark hair framed a heart-shaped face, her features delicate but expressive. Wide, amber eyes stared back at him, filled with a mix of determination and uncertainty. There was something almost... defiant in her gaze, a challenge that stirred the embers of his curiosity.

And something else-something he couldn't quite name.

Fenrir's reaction was immediate.

"Her."

The wolf's voice was a low growl, vibrating with a strange intensity. Alexander's pulse quickened, a faint, unfamiliar sensation thrumming through him as he studied the image.

"What do you mean?" he murmured, narrowing his eyes.

"Choose her."

"No." Alexander shook his head sharply, trying to dispel the strange sense of déjà vu that washed over him. She was an unknown, a risk. And he didn't take risks. Not with something as personal as this.

But Fenrir was relentless, a primal force that refused to be silenced.

"I know her scent. Her bloodline. She's the one."

The words struck him like a physical blow, sending a jolt of shock through his system. He leaned closer to the screen, staring at the woman's image as if it might reveal her secrets. Her bloodline? That was impossible. He'd made sure-

No. He couldn't think like that. Not now.

Slowly, deliberately, Alexander forced himself to relax. He took a deep breath, willing the tension to drain from his muscles. This was a mistake. A coincidence. She was just another applicant. There was no reason to believe-

"You feel it, don't you?" Fenrir's voice was a taunting whisper, laced with triumph. "The pull. The... familiarity."

Alexander clenched his jaw, but he couldn't deny the truth. There was something about her. Something that made his blood hum, his instincts flare to life. It was dangerous. Reckless.

But he was a creature who had lived through centuries of danger. And recklessness was a vice he'd learned to control.

With a slow, measured movement, he reached for the mouse and selected her profile.

"Fine," he murmured, his voice low. "Let's see what she's made of."

He tapped the confirmation button, sending a request for an in-person interview. It was a gamble. One he knew he shouldn't take.

But as he stared at her image one last time, a faint smile tugged at his lips.

"Welcome to my world, Elena Belrose."

For the first time in a long while, anticipation stirred within him-sharp, electric. Whatever happened next, one thing was certain:

This woman-this unremarkable, ordinary applicant-was about to change everything.

Alexander's POV

The office was shrouded in shadows, a testament to his own darkness. Dim, ambient lighting flickered against the obsidian walls, casting long, sinister lines that mirrored his mood. The only bright spot in the room was the massive digital screen that dominated the space, illuminating his hard features as he stared at her.

Elena Cross.

The grainy application photo glared back at him, and despite himself, Alexander felt his jaw clench. He loathed this-this inexplicable, primitive need to keep looking at her image, as if the answer to his discontent was hidden somewhere in the curve of her lips or the defiant glint in her eyes. He leaned forward, the leather of his chair creaking softly under the tension coiling in his muscles. Slowly, almost absently, he reached out and let his fingers hover over her face on the screen.

Nothing special, he told himself, but the words tasted like a lie. There was no denying the pull, the faint hum of recognition beneath his skin. Even from a photograph, her presence seemed to command his attention, as if she were somehow challenging him. He scoffed, an irritated growl escaping his throat.

"You're nothing but a thorn in my side," he muttered. Yet, he couldn't pull his gaze away.

Her file lay open beside him, filled with mundane details that should have been easy to dismiss. Age: 24. Background: orphan, raised in the foster system. Education: top of her class. Employment: unremarkable administrative positions. None of it explained why she had his senses on high alert.

Alexander narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing the lines of her face, the shape of her jaw, the stubborn set of her mouth. Her hair was a dark, wild cascade around her shoulders, and those eyes-green, like the forest after a storm-stared back at him with a fire that seemed almost alive. Even captured on film, she looked as if she were daring him to challenge her, to try and break her spirit.

I've broken stronger souls than you, he thought savagely, fighting the strange urge to trace her features. His fingers hovered, the air between him and the screen charged with the friction of desire and hatred. His wolf stirred restlessly within him, that primal part of him that he kept locked away, locked down. The beast recognized something in her-something dangerous, something that could unravel everything.

It was absurd. He had never met her in person, yet there it was: the faint, elusive scent that lingered in the back of his mind. He could almost smell it-her. He snarled, shaking his head to clear it. She was nothing but a human, an insignificant piece in the larger game. And yet...

He remembered the first time he'd glimpsed her through the surveillance feed-a brief, stolen moment that should have meant nothing. She'd been alone, filling out the application form with quick, decisive strokes, her expression sharp and focused. He hadn't even seen her face fully then, just the curve of her profile, the determined set of her shoulders. But something had snapped inside him, a cold, lethal certainty that this woman was more than she appeared.

His beast had recognized her.

Mate.

The word sent a chill down his spine. No. He didn't believe in fate, in the soul-deep ties that his kind whispered about in hushed voices. He had rejected that notion centuries ago, had destroyed the very bond that would have chained him to a mate. The curse had bound him once-to a woman who had nearly destroyed him. He had vowed never to let it happen again.

"Mine."

The low, guttural growl reverberated through the room, startling even him. His fingers clenched into a fist, nails biting into his palm hard enough to draw blood. He slammed his fist against the desk, the force rattling the glass decanter beside him.

This is insanity.

With a snarl, he stood abruptly, turning away from her image as if it physically burned him. He was Alexander Bloodstone-the Alpha, the ruler of a city that bent to his will, a man feared and revered in equal measure. He did not succumb to base desires. He did not obsess over humans.

But the truth was there, lurking in the dark corners of his mind: he was already ensnared. And it infuriated him.

The door to his office creaked open. His head snapped up, muscles coiling with the need for violence. He saw Lucian-a shadow among shadows-enter, his expression unreadable.

"I've done as you asked," Lucian murmured. "Elena Cross is a ghost. No family, no close friends, no one to protect her."

Good. That made it easier. Easier to destroy her, if it came to that. He nodded curtly, but Lucian didn't leave. He lingered, dark eyes studying Alexander with a wariness that sent a ripple of irritation through him.

"What is it?" he snapped.

"She doesn't seem like a spy, Alpha." Lucian's voice was cautious, each word chosen with care. "But there's something... odd."

"Odd?" Alexander echoed, his brows drawing together.

"Yes. I've looked into her history-tracked down everyone she's been in contact with, her movements, even her financials. Nothing stands out." Lucian hesitated, glancing at the screen where Elena's face still glared back at them. "But if I didn't know better, I'd say she's hiding something. The way she's kept herself so isolated... it's almost deliberate."

A spark of interest flickered through Alexander's chest. Hiding something. So, she wasn't just a distraction. She was a puzzle-a puzzle he intended to unravel.

"Keep watching her," he ordered, his voice low and dangerous. "Report every move. I want to know everything."

Lucian inclined his head and slipped out of the room as silently as he'd come. Alone once more, Alexander let out a slow breath, forcing his racing thoughts to still. It didn't matter what she was hiding. He would find out soon enough. And if she was his mate...

His chest tightened painfully. No. He would not allow it. He would not be bound by fate, not again. If she was a threat-if there was even the slightest chance that she was linked to his bloodline's curse-he would eliminate her before she had the chance to destroy him.

A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. This time, the door swung open without his permission, and Rhett strolled in as if he owned the place. His brother's easy, confident swagger set Alexander's teeth on edge.

"You know," Rhett drawled, "for a man who's supposed to be running a city, you look awfully preoccupied." He glanced at the screen, his eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "Who's the girl?"

Alexander's growl was low and dangerous. "Get out."

Rhett ignored him, leaning against the edge of the desk with infuriating nonchalance. He tilted his head, studying Elena's picture with a curiosity that made Alexander want to rip his throat out. "Interesting. She's human, isn't she?" He shot a sideways glance at Alexander. "But there's something about her... What is it, brother? Is she a threat?"

"No," Alexander bit out, but the denial tasted sour. He forced himself to calm, to adopt the icy composure that usually came so naturally to him. "She's no one."

Rhett laughed softly, dark amusement in his gaze. "You're a terrible liar." He pushed off the desk, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with something sharp and calculating. "If she's no one, why are you watching her so closely? Why does she have you twisted up like this?"

"She doesn't," Alexander ground out. But even as he said it, his gaze flicked-unbidden-back to Elena's image. A flash of movement, a hint of defiance that made his blood heat. His brother followed his gaze, his smirk widening.

"Ah, I see," Rhett murmured. "You think she might be... something more."

Something more. The words reverberated in Alexander's skull, setting his nerves on fire. He couldn't afford to think that way. He wouldn't.

"I don't believe in that bullshit prophecy," he said, voice tight.

"Maybe you don't," Rhett mused. "But I can smell it on you. You feel it, don't you? That instinct, that... pull." He stepped back, giving Alexander a slow, mocking bow. "If she's a threat, kill her. But if she's not..." He let the sentence trail off, a cruel smile curling his lips. "What then, brother?"

And then he was gone, his laughter echoing down the hall, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts-and the gnawing, suffocating truth that he refused to acknowledge.

Alexander turned back to the screen, fists clenched. She was dangerous, he was sure of it. He had to be sure. Because the alternative...

He leaned in, his breath misting the screen as he stared into her eyes. "I'll find out what you really are, Elena Cross," he murmured softly, every word dripping with menace. "And if you're here to destroy me-"

He trailed off, a savage smile twisting his lips.

"-then I'll make sure I destroy you first."

The silence in the room was thick, oppressive. But somewhere, deep in his chest, his beast purred.

And Alexander knew, with a terrible certainty, that he would never be free of her.