The iron collar was colder than the winter air of the northern territories. It bit into the skin of my neck, a constant, heavy reminder that I was no longer a person—I was property.
I stood in the shadows behind a heavy velvet curtain, my hands trembling. Outside, the muffled roar of a crowd sounded more like a pack of hungry scavengers than a gathering of high-society wolves. This was the Black Market of the Silver Moon—a place where the law didn't reach and where "broken things" were sold to the highest bidder.
"Move it, Wolfless," a guard spat, shoving me toward the stage.
I stumbled, my bare feet catching on the splintered floorboards. I wanted to snap back, to show a spark of the pride my brother, Leo, had tried so hard to instill in me. But Leo was gone.
I closed my eyes, and for a second, I wasn't in a dark auction house. I was back at our pack house, smelling the smoke and hearing the screams. I saw Leo standing between me and the enemy Alpha's blade. "Run, Elara! Don't look back!" he had roared. He had died so I could live.
And then, I saw my father's face. Alpha Silas. The man who had looked at me—his own blood—with nothing but disgust as the enemy commander offered a trade. "One daughter for the safety of my borders," the commander had said.
My half-sister, Selene, had whimpered behind him. She was the golden child, the one with the powerful wolf, the one who was meant to be a Luna. My father hadn't even hesitated. He didn't point at his precious Selene. He pointed his finger directly at me.
"Take the illegitimate one," he'd said, his voice as cold as a tombstone. "She has no wolf. She is of no use to me."
"Get out there!"
The curtain was yanked back. The light blinded me, white and searing. I stepped onto the elevated platform, and a hundred pairs of eyes locked onto me. I felt the collective sneer of the crowd. Even in a room full of criminals, a "wolfless" shifter was considered the lowest form of life—a mistake of nature.
"Lot 402," the auctioneer shouted, his voice amplified by a megaphone. "A rare find! The daughter of Alpha Silas of the Blood-Crag Pack. Pure lineage, though dormant. Perfect for breeding or... more vigorous uses."
Laughter erupted. I stared at the floor, my face burning with a shame that wasn't mine to carry.
And then, it hit me.
It started as a tingle at the base of my spine. Then, a scent cut through the stench of sweat, cheap ale, and fear. It was the smell of a brewing storm—crisp ozone, wet cedar, and the sharp, dangerous tang of cold steel.
My breath hitched. My heart, which I thought had died with Leo, began to thud violently against my ribs. My inner soul, the part of me that had been silent for nineteen years, let out a ghostly, mournful howl.
Mate.
I looked up, my eyes searching the crowd with a desperate, frantic hope. Was it possible? Even for a wolfless pariah, the Moon Goddess had granted a mate?
I found him in the front row.
He wasn't cheering. He wasn't laughing. He sat perfectly still, his large frame clad in a tailored charcoal suit that couldn't hide the raw, lethal power of his muscles. His hair was as black as a raven's wing, and his eyes... they were a piercing, icy blue.
Alpha Kaelen of the Obsidian Pack. The man they called the "God of War."
Our eyes locked. For a split second, the world went silent. I saw the flash of recognition in his pupils. I saw the way his nostrils flared as he took in my scent.
He knows, I thought, a sob of relief rising in my throat. He's coming to save me.
Kaelen stood up. He didn't wait for the bidding to continue.
"One million gold credits," he stated. His voice was a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in my very bones.
The room went dead silent. The auctioneer gasped. "A-Alpha Kaelen! A generous bid, but—"
"I am not bidding," Kaelen interrupted, his gaze never leaving mine. "I am buying. Now. Bring her to me."
The guards didn't hesitate. They unchained me from the stage floor and dragged me toward the edge. I was shaking, tears finally spilling over. I reached out a hand as I was lowered toward him, my heart screaming for his touch.
Kaelen stepped forward. He reached up and grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I winced. He hauled me off the stage and slammed me against his chest.
"Mate," I whispered, the word a broken prayer against his lapel.
But he didn't wrap his arms around me. He didn't whisper that I was safe. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing against my ear. His breath was hot, but his words were shards of ice.
"I have waited months for this moment, Elara," he hissed, his voice dripping with a hatred so pure it made my blood run cold.
I pulled back, looking at him in confusion. "Kaelen?"
His blue eyes weren't filled with the warmth of a mate bond. They were burning with a vengeful fire.
"You killed her," he growled, his hand moving from my arm to my throat, squeezing just enough to stifle my breath. "You left your sister, Selene—my true intended—to die in those flames while you crawled away like the rat you are."
"No," I choked out, clawing at his hand. "That's not... she isn't..."
"Silence!" he roared, the power of his Alpha command slamming into me like a physical blow. I collapsed to my knees at his feet, held up only by his iron grip on my neck.
He looked down at me, his face a mask of cruelty.
"The Moon Goddess gave me a murderer for a mate," Kaelen told the silent room, his voice echoing with malice. "She thinks she has found a savior. She is wrong. I didn't buy her for her bed. I bought her for my dungeon."
He leaned closer, his eyes narrowing. "You're going to wish you had died with your brother, Elara. Because I am going to make sure your life is a living hell for every breath Selene can no longer take."
He jerked the chain on my collar, forcing me to stumble after him like a dog.
As I was dragged out of the auction house and into the freezing night, I realized the truth. My mate hadn't saved me.
He had just become my executioner.