Claimed By The Cursed Alpha by Aniagboso Martins

Alexander's POV

The night my family was destroyed, the moon turned red as blood.

It's a sight seared into my memory, vivid and unrelenting-the haunting crimson glow that bathed the snow-covered woods, casting long shadows through the skeletal branches. I was only a boy then, barely old enough to shift, but old enough to feel the power in the air. Old enough to know something terrible was about to happen. My father had warned me: "Stay in the woods, Alexander. Do not come back to the manor no matter what you hear."

I remember hiding in the hollow of an ancient oak, trembling as howls and screams echoed through the trees. The sounds of battle-of wolves clashing, jaws snapping, bodies hitting the ground. I dug my claws into the rough bark, holding on to the scent of blood and fur that wafted through the night, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.

And then silence.

I should have stayed hidden. I should have listened to my father's command, but some twisted instinct drove me out of that hollow and into the clearing beyond the woods. What I saw when I emerged from the darkness would haunt me for the rest of my life.

The once-grand Knight family manor was a blazing inferno, flames licking hungrily at the stone walls as if trying to devour every last remnant of my family's legacy. Bodies littered the ground-wolves and humans alike, twisted and broken, their blood painting the snow crimson. And in the center of it all, beneath the scarlet moon, stood a figure draped in a robe as dark as midnight.

The Curse Keeper.

She was unlike anything I'd ever seen, a phantom from the deepest pits of a nightmare. Her face was hidden beneath the shadows of her hood, but her eyes glowed-redder than the moon above, sharper than a blade. I knew without a doubt that she was the one responsible for the slaughter. The air around her pulsed with dark magic, a palpable force that made my wolf snarl and struggle beneath my skin, demanding release.

"You shouldn't be here, little wolf," she said, her voice a low, silky murmur that sent chills racing down my spine. "But it's too late now, isn't it?"

I didn't respond. My gaze was fixed on the figure crumpled at her feet-my father. Alpha Marcus Knight, the strongest Alpha in the entire Northern Territories, the man I had always thought invincible, lay broken and bleeding, his chest heaving with labored breaths. His silver fur was matted with blood, his once-mighty frame shrunken and weak.

"Father-" I choked, taking a step forward, but the Curse Keeper lifted a slender hand, and invisible chains wrapped around my limbs, yanking me back. Pain flared through my body, hot and blinding, and my wolf, Fenrir, roared inside me.

Let me out! he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that reverberated through my bones. We'll tear her apart!

But I couldn't. I couldn't even move.

"Such fire," she mused, tilting her head as if studying me. "The blood of Alphas runs strong in your veins, little one. But that won't save you."

With a flick of her wrist, the chains tightened, forcing me to my knees. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out even as agony raked through every nerve. The Curse Keeper turned her gaze back to my father, who was struggling to lift his head.

"Do you know why I'm here, Marcus?" she asked softly. "Do you know why your bloodline must be purged?"

My father's growl was weak, but defiant. "Because you're a coward."

Her laughter was soft, almost musical-a sound so incongruous with the carnage around us that it made my stomach twist.

No," she murmured. "I am here because of a promise. A promise made centuries ago, when your ancestors betrayed mine. You see, the Knights are cursed, Alpha Marcus. Cursed to lose everything they love. And tonight, that curse reaches its zenith."

She reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a small, twisted dagger. The blade was black as pitch, etched with runes that pulsed with a sickly green light. My father stiffened, his eyes widening with recognition-and fear.

"This blade was forged in the heart of a dying star," the Curse Keeper whispered, running a finger along its edge. "It will seal your fate, Marcus. The fate of your entire line."

"No!" I shouted, struggling against the chains, but they only tightened, digging into my flesh until I could taste blood. Fenrir howled in rage, clawing at the barriers that held him trapped inside me.