Chapter 1 THE FIRST
Chapter One
The first thing Ria Traem noticed was the scent of smoke. It clung to the velvet curtains, seeped into the stone walls, and burned her throat as she struggled to breathe. The room was heavy with it, mingled with the musk of wolves. Hundreds of eyes burned into her from the shadows, and all of them were waiting for one thing.
Her.
She stood barefoot on a small stage, wrists bound in silver cuffs that dug into her skin, her gown nothing more than a pale scrap that offered no warmth. The chains were unnecessary—her wolf had been drugged into silence hours ago, her blood dulled with herbs that left her body weak. Yet still they chained her, because control was all these men knew.
The auctioneer’s voice rose over the murmurs of the crowd. “Lot number eight. Ria Traem. Nineteen years of age. Lyra bloodline.”
Whispers surged. Lyra. Even here, among the ruthless, that name carried weight.
Ria kept her chin high, though her stomach twisted. She would not cry. She would not show them fear.
“Untouched,” the auctioneer added with a wolfish grin. “Trained in etiquette. A rare find. We will begin the bidding at fifty.”
The first voice cut the silence. “Sixty.”
Then another. “Eighty.”
Her pulse raced. She tried not to look at them—the wolves in fine coats, the alphas with gold rings and predatory smiles. They weren’t buying her. They were buying power, blood, ownership.
“One hundred.”
The number came from the shadows at the back of the hall, low and rough, but it silenced the room like a blade.
Ria’s gaze snapped toward the voice, and her heart stalled.
The man who stepped forward looked carved from violence itself. His black shirt clung to a chest marked with tattoos that twisted up his throat, curling around the sharp line of his jaw. His dark hair was cropped close, his stubble shadowing lips set in a hard line. His eyes—silver edged with storm—pierced her as if they could strip her bare.
“Alpha Kael Draem,” someone whispered, their voice almost reverent.
Ria swallowed hard. She had heard the name before, always spoken in warning. Alpha of the Blackfang pack. Cold. Ruthless. A wolf who crushed anyone foolish enough to stand in his way.
The auctioneer stammered but quickly recovered. “One hundred from Alpha Kael. Do I hear one hundred and ten?”
Murmurs rose again, hesitant. No one wanted to challenge a Draem. Yet just as the silence seemed final, another voice rang out.
“One twenty.”
The crowd gasped.
Another man stepped forward, tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair falling loose around his face. His eyes gleamed amber, sharp and cunning, and when he smiled, it was all wolf. His tattoos were different from Kael’s—gold ink twining down his arm like fire—but the resemblance in the set of his jaw was undeniable.
“Alpha Darius,” someone hissed. “Kael’s stepbrother.”
Ria’s chest tightened.
Kael’s gaze flicked to Darius, sharp as steel. For the first time, his mask cracked, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“One fifty,” Kael said flatly.
“One seventy,” Darius countered, his smirk widening.
The air thickened with tension. Wolves whispered, scenting the storm that was about to break.
Ria’s pulse pounded in her ears. Two alphas. Both ruthless. Both dangerous. And both bidding for her like she was nothing more than a jewel to be tossed into their collections.
“Two hundred,” Kael growled, his voice cold enough to freeze the air.
“Two fifty,” Darius shot back without hesitation.
The auctioneer’s hands trembled. No one else dared speak. The hall had become a battlefield, and she was the weapon.
Kael took a step forward, his silver gaze burning. “Three hundred.”
The crowd erupted in gasps. No one, not even the wealthiest alphas, had ever bid that high. The auctioneer’s mouth opened, closed, then opened again. “Three hundred… going once—”
“Three fifty.”
Ria’s knees weakened. Darius’s voice was smooth, confident, but his eyes gleamed with cruel amusement. He wasn’t just trying to win. He wanted to take something from Kael.
Kael’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. For a heartbeat, silence hung heavy, broken only by Ria’s uneven breaths. Then Kael spoke, his voice low, lethal.
“Five hundred.”
The hall went still. The number was obscene, enough to buy entire estates. No one would go higher. Not even Darius.
The auctioneer’s hands shook as he slammed the gavel down. “Sold. To Alpha Kael Draem.”
The chains around Ria’s wrists were unclasped. Her skin burned as they lifted, but her wolf stirred faintly beneath the haze, restless, furious.
Kael moved forward, and the crowd parted for him like prey before a predator. He stopped in front of her, his scent overwhelming—smoke, pine, iron. Without a word, he reached out, his tattooed fingers curling firmly around her wrist.
“You belong to me now,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut.
Ria’s chest heaved, anger sparking in her veins despite her fear. “I belong to no one.”
For the first time, a flicker of surprise lit his eyes. Then his mouth curved into something that wasn’t a smile but close enough to unsettle her.
“You’ll learn,” he murmured.
Behind him, Darius’s laugh echoed through the hall, low and mocking. “Careful, brother. She looks like fire. Burn too close, and you’ll choke on the smoke.”
Kael didn’t look back. His grip tightened on Ria’s wrist as he led her from the stage, past wolves who lowered their gazes. She tried to pull free, but his hold was iron, unyielding.
“You think you’re strong,” she hissed under her breath.
“I know I am,” he replied.
“And cold.”
“Cold keeps me alive.” His eyes slid to hers, silver flames burning. “And if you’re smart, it will keep you alive too.”
Her throat tightened, but she forced her chin high. She would not bow. Not to him. Not to anyone.
As the doors shut behind them, the hall erupted with whispers. The crowd spoke of Kael’s madness, Darius’s defiance, the impossible price. But Ria heard none of it.
All she heard was the pounding of her own heart.
All she felt was the weight of Kael’s hand on her skin.
And all she knew was that her fate had just been sealed.
But deep down, beneath the fear and fury, her wolf stirred. Not in defeat. In warning.
Because Kael Draem was not the only danger in her future.
And the war for her body, her loyalty, and her heart had only just begun.
