Chapter 3 Chapter 3

RIAN

The Mate Bond was a goddamn biological malfunction, a glitch in the Alpha code.

I stood in the center of the Vale Tower Observation Deck, the panoramic view of Meridian City a cold comfort. But the sight of the glittering finance hub couldn't distract me from the memory of Amina's face, wide with terror and the absolute certainty that she had seen my death.

His life is held by the Hybrid’s hand. Her primal, non-verbal realization—the psychic echo of the Prophecy itself—had slammed into me the second the Blood Sight flared. The sheer power of it had almost brought me to my knees. The ancient curse wasn't lore; it was an active contract, and the signatory was locked in my high-tech gilded cage.

Shit. I had to move. The Council was assembling.

I grabbed the reinforced door to my private office. “Kira!”

She materialized instantly from the shadows, her face a mask of iron control, but her amber eyes held a deep, unmasked resentment directed not at me, but at the prisoner.

“Alpha,” she said, her voice clipped, tense.

“I’m going to Morgan Hall. Council meeting. Emergency session.” I threw my suit jacket over my shoulder. “You know the protocol. No one touches the asset. No one speaks to the asset. Keep the biometric firewall up, and don't breathe in the Hybrid's direction. Her scent is toxic, Kira.”

Kira’s control fractured just enough for her contempt to show. “Alpha, with all respect, when is the execution scheduled? We found the rogue, Dominic Vance, abandoned in the alley. He confirms the Hybrid used Kinetic Echo—a clear, immediate violation. If the Council knows she’s alive for another hour, your standing is forfeit. You are risking us all for a specimen.”

I met her stare, injecting the full weight of my Alpha Command into my voice, forcing her compliance despite her fury. “I am aware of the law, Kira. I am also aware that I am the only person who captured a Lycan-Seer Hybrid alive in five hundred years. The Council will want intelligence. They will want to know how she controls the Earth Pulse, where her bloodline hides, and if she's a harbinger of the Sundering War’s return.”

I was lying. I was running interference for my Mate, using politics as a shield. The political logic was sound enough to silence my Beta, but the Mate Bond was humming beneath my skin, a traitorous acknowledgement of my true motive.

“You have twelve hours,” she stated, her voice lowering to a tense whisper. “That is the maximum amount of time I can guarantee the Council will need to process your report before Alpha Alarie starts calling for a pack war on our doorstep. Please, Alpha. Don’t do this.”

Twelve hours. That's my ticking clock.

I gave her a sharp nod, a silent acknowledgement of the threat. “The asset remains secure. Twelve hours. Now, lock down the tower.”

I didn't wait for her to respond, stepping into the lift. I knew I hadn't reassured her. I'd simply given her a reason to watch me even closer and, God help Amina, to watch the cage even closer.

Morgan Hall was a tomb.

It smelled of mahogany, dust, and old, bitter history. It was the antithesis of the Vale Tower, a stark reminder that the werewolf world was built not on modern finance, but on ancient, murderous law.

I entered the Council Chamber. The four other Alphas sat around the massive marble table, the motto of the Lunar Pact carved into the floor beneath them. They looked at me with varying degrees of suspicion and barely contained rage.

Marcus Alarie (The Bull) was practically vibrating with fury. Seraphina Thorne (The Judge) was coolly filing her nails, the most dangerous movement in the room. Cassian Vesper (The Treasurer) was staring at a tablet, calculating the economic risk exposure. Zayna Haddad (The Scientist) watched me with unsettling clinical curiosity.

“Rian,” Seraphina purred, without looking up. “So glad you could drag yourself away from your… acquisitions.”

“My acquisition is secured, Seraphina,” I replied, taking my seat. “And unlike the rogue pack member who initiated the incident, I followed the protocol of containment. The Hybrid is contained, the threat is localized.”

Alarie slammed his fist on the table. “Containment?! We don't contain Hybrids, Vale! The Protocol is immediate execution! You are spitting on the graves of the last generation!”

“I agree with Alpha Alarie on principle,” Haddad interjected, her voice smooth. “But Rian's capture of a live specimen is, from a genetic standpoint, an unprecedented opportunity. We need to know where the ancient magic is rooted. If we identify the source, we purge the contagion completely, not just the symptom.”

Thank you, Haddad. Always predictable.

“My thoughts exactly, Alpha Haddad,” I confirmed smoothly. “The containment procedure will last until I have extracted all intelligence regarding the Seer paths and the structural integrity of their magic. I estimate this will require three days of intensive extraction.”

"Three days?" Vesper finally looked up, his face devoid of emotion. “Alpha Vale, the risk of keeping a known Lycan-Seer Hybrid alive for three days is financially untenable. The last time one was active, the Shroud almost collapsed. You are maximizing risk for minimal political gain.”

“I am minimizing future risk, Vesper,” I countered, leaning forward, injecting confidence into the lie. “If we execute her blindly, the source of her power remains unknown. I will give you a full report in seventy-two hours, detailing the bloodline structure, the potential for contagion, and the location of any remaining contacts. Then, she will be neutralized.”

I held Seraphina’s gaze. She saw the lie, but she also saw the opportunity for intelligence and the potential political fallout if they challenged the young, successful Alpha too quickly.

Seraphina smiled, the expression cold enough to freeze blood. "Very well, Rian. You have seventy-two hours. But understand this: if the asset shows one sign of instability, or if you show one sign of weakness, the Council will execute the Hybrid first, and then address your treason second."

The meeting was adjourned. I had bought Amina seventy-two hours of life. I felt the cold, familiar weight of my control settle back over my gut, masking the primal terror of the Mate Bond. I had won the first political battle.

I returned to the Vale Tower, expecting the controlled chaos of Kira's security protocols. I found Kira pacing outside the Observation Deck, her face tight with genuine alarm.

“Alpha, there’s been a breach.”

My blood ran cold. “What breach? Did she use her power?”

"No, Alpha. Not exactly power." Kira gestured to the door. "I had Jasper run a full biometric sweep. The Hybrid used a small piece of metal from the maintenance trolley left outside, filed the edges with the concrete floor tiles, and then used it to pry open a decorative grate near the air vent. She’s too large to fit through, but she managed to manipulate the locking mechanism on the external window shroud.”

I walked into the Observation Deck. Amina was standing by the panoramic window, her back to me, looking out at the city lights. She wasn't free, but the window shroud, a discreet safety mechanism, was slightly ajar, a small, visible gap of defiance.

She hadn't gone for a weapon or a fight. She had gone for escape.

"She didn't escape," I said, my voice dangerously level, fighting the primal urge to race across the room and pin her against the glass.

"No," Kira confirmed, her voice laced with fear. "But she was five minutes away from triggering a secondary external alarm that would have alerted the human authorities—a devastating breach of the Shroud. I secured the grate and had Jasper triple the electronic seal."

I dismissed Kira with a wave, my focus entirely on Amina's rigid posture.

She was dangerous. She was resourceful. And she was absolutely, terrifyingly determined to be free of me.

I had planned to manage her fear, to control her training, to use my Alpha power and the Mate Bond to keep her subservient. But she hadn't just used the mundane to fight my high-tech cage; she had completely dismissed my absolute authority.

I stared at her back, the Mate Bond screaming for proximity, and the Prophecy demanding she be contained.

Control is impossible.

I ran a hand through my hair. The façade of the ruthless captor was useless. She was not a prisoner; she was a threat who happened to be my Mate.

"The Observation Deck is closed," I stated, the command echoing in the empty, cold room. I watched her shoulders tense. "The rules change now, Amina. Seventy-two hours starts when I say it does, and it won't be spent in a glass box."