Claimed By Mr King

The forest was alive with the sound of snapping twigs and the echo of hurried breaths. Rowan Ashwood's legs burned as she sprinted through the dark woods, her heart pounding like a war drum in her chest. Shadows seemed to stretch out like claws, reaching for her as she darted between towering pines. The moon hung heavy above her, full and unrelenting, bathing the forest in a cold, silver light that made it impossible to hide.

She could feel them behind her-the rogue wolves. Their growls cut through the night like a blade, their heavy footfalls drawing closer with each passing second. Rowan's instincts screamed at her to shift, to unleash the wolf within her, but she couldn't risk it. If she shifted, the scent of her omega would hit them full force, and they'd never stop hunting her.

"Keep running," she whispered to herself, her voice hoarse. "Don't stop. Not now."

The thick underbrush scraped against her legs, tearing at her jeans, but she didn't slow down. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled-a chilling, triumphant sound that sent shivers racing down her spine.

"Split up!" one of the rogues barked. The rough voice was human, but it carried the guttural snarl of a wolf just beneath the surface.

Rowan pushed herself harder, her lungs burning as she climbed the ridge ahead. She couldn't let them catch her. Not again.

Memories of her last encounter with rogues flashed in her mind-how they'd dragged her from her hiding spot, how their hands had gripped her arms like iron shackles. She clenched her jaw, forcing the memories away. She wouldn't let that happen again. She'd rather die.

When she crested the ridge, the forest opened up, revealing a wide, moonlit clearing. Rowan skidded to a stop, her boots digging into the dirt. She froze, her chest heaving, as she took in the sight before her.

A figure stood in the center of the clearing.

He was tall, his broad shoulders cutting a commanding silhouette against the silver light. His dark hair caught the moonlight, gleaming like raven feathers, and his piercing amber eyes locked onto hers with a force that nearly brought her to her knees.

Dominic Blackthorn. The Alpha King.

Rowan's breath hitched. She had heard stories of him-everyone had. The ruthless ruler of the Shadowmoon Territory. The wolf who struck fear into both allies and enemies alike. But none of the stories had prepared her for the raw power that radiated off him like heat from a flame.

"Run, little omega," he said, his deep voice rolling over her like thunder. "See where it gets you."

Her heart stuttered, but she quickly masked her fear with defiance. "I didn't ask for your help."

Dominic tilted his head, his sharp gaze raking over her like he was assessing her worth. "And yet, here you are, bringing trouble to my doorstep."

Behind her, the sound of footsteps drew closer. The rogues were catching up. Rowan's pulse quickened, and she turned to look over her shoulder. She was trapped.

"You have two options," Dominic said, his voice as calm as if they were discussing the weather. "Come with me willingly, or let them have you."

Rowan whipped back around to face him, her green eyes blazing. "I'm not yours to command."

Dominic took a slow step toward her, his boots crunching against the dirt. The weight of his presence was suffocating, and yet there was something magnetic about him that made it impossible to look away.

"You'd rather die than accept help?" he asked, his voice laced with mockery.

"I'd rather die than belong to anyone," she snapped.

His lips twitched, as if her defiance amused him. "Brave words for someone out of options."

Before she could respond, the rogues burst into the clearing, their snarls filling the air. There were three of them, their eyes glowing with the golden hue of wolves on the hunt.