**Alpha's POV***
She was awake.
I could feel it—like a pull in the air—as the car rolled down the road towards the pack house. Her scent, soft and strange, roses and cinnamon, drifted faintly even from here. I didn't know how I recognized it as hers… but I did.
When my men brought her in, my wolf, Thorne, had reacted instantly—jerking forward with a kind of excitement I hadn't felt in years. As if she belonged to us. As if he already knew her.
She was beautiful, yes, with her platinum-blonde hair and delicate features, but that wasn't the reason. Something about her felt *meant*. Familiar. Wrongly familiar.
Claiming her should have been simple—just like all the other human girls who never survived the ritual. But she hadn't died. She hadn't even fought it the way humans usually did. She had felt something else entirely… and that terrified me more than anything. Humans weren't supposed to respond like that.
Unless she wasn't fully human.
I stepped out of the car, ignoring the chill that slid down my spine. Pack members bowed their heads as I passed.
"Alpha," my beta, Samuel, said, hurrying over. "She's awake."
"I know," I replied, my voice uneven even to my own ears.
Samuel frowned. "Did Selora tell you?"
"My mother didn't say anything," I said, stopping at the foot of the stairs. "I just… know."
He nodded slowly and left me to the hallway, where her door waited like a challenge.
Thorne paced inside me, restless and eager. It irritated me more than I wanted to admit. Why would he act like this over a random girl? A girl we barely knew. A girl who might be dangerous to the pack—and to the entire kingdom—if we couldn't claim her properly.
I needed answers. I needed control. I needed—
I pushed the door open.
"AAAH! Who are you—and why didn't you knock?!" her voice shrieked.
She was standing there, clutching a towel to her chest, clearly startled. Water still dripped from her hair. She must've just stepped out of the shower.
And I—had definitely forgotten to knock.
Heat crept up her face as she glared at me like she wanted to rip my head off.
After a second of awkward silence, she snapped again, "How dare you walk in while I'm dressing?! Who even *are you*?"
Her fury was almost… impressive. Her eyes—bright green and sharp—fixed on me with so much fire that I almost forgot what I came here for.
"This is my house," I said coolly. "I can go anywhere I want. And besides, I didn't see anything."
A lie. And a bad one, judging by how her cheeks went even redder.
"So you're the one who kidnapped me?" she hissed. "You think you can drag me here and get away with it? I'll report you to the police the moment I get out of here."
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. If only she knew how far we were from the human world. How impossible it would be for her to contact anyone.
"How is that funny?!" she snapped. "You think I'm some kind of joke? Because if I were you, I'd be begging for forgiveness right now. A dickhead like you should have no business kidnapping an eighteen-year-old girl!"
Her words slapped into me harder than she realized. And when she called me a dickhead, something low and dangerous slipped out of me—a warning growl.
She didn't even flinch.
***
**Halia's POV **
I finally saw him—the man who had kidnapped me.
He was absolutely infuriating… and annoyingly gorgeous for someone who dragged me out of my normal life. His strange orange-gold eyes sent a cold shiver down my spine as he walked toward me with an unreadable expression.
I swallowed hard and stepped back. He kept coming.
Oh my God.
Maybe calling him a *dickhead* hadn't been my smartest idea.
My back hit the wall, firm and cold. He stopped only inches away. I tightened my grip on the towel wrapped around me, pulling it higher over my chest. His gaze flicked over me—first to my face, then briefly downward—before he forced his eyes back up again. His jaw clenched like he was annoyed at himself.
Something about him tugged at my memory.
His scent.
I had smelled it before. Warm. Sharp. Familiar in a way that made no sense.
Before I could place it, he spoke.
"Call me a dickhead again," he said, voice low but dangerously calm, "and you'll find out what one really acts like. And for the record, I'm not the one standing here wrapped in a towel… Halia."
I froze.
He knew my name.
My fingers tightened on the towel. *Who* was he? And how did he know anything about me?
He stepped away, heading for the doorway. For a moment, I thought he might leave me alone—but then he paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"And one more thing," he said quietly. "You're not going anywhere. So get thoughts of home out of your mind."
The door clicked shut.
Locked.
"No… no, no—NO!"
A sob tore out of me as I grabbed the handle and pulled, but it didn't budge. Tears streamed down my cheeks.
Mom.
Maggie.
My life.
Gone.
I slid down until I was sitting on the floor, clutching the towel like it was the only thing holding me together. The room was too big, too quiet, too strange. I wasn't getting out. I wasn't going home.
I cried harder.