His Captive Bride

Scarlett POV

The air inside Moonpetal Blooms was thick with the scent of damp earth and drying lavender, a comforting perfume that usually settled my soul. But today, the silence felt heavy, like the calm before a breaking storm.

I adjusted my gloves, reaching for the rare Moonpetal sitting on the counter. Its silver-veined leaves shimmered under the shop's dim lights, beautiful but treacherous. Just as I pinched the stem, the front door chimed—not the gentle ring of a customer, but a violent rattle as if the frame itself had been struck.

Distracted, my finger slipped.

A sharp sting pierced my thumb. "Damn it," I hissed, pulling back. A single drop of blood bloomed on my skin, dark against the glowing petals. Almost instantly, a cold numbness shot up my arm, heavy and sluggish. The Moonpetal's toxin. It wasn't lethal, but it would render my muscles useless within minutes.

I reached for the antidote on the shelf, but the door was thrown open with enough force to crack the glass.

A man stormed in, bringing with him a gust of icy wind and an Alpha aura so potent it felt like gravity had doubled. He was massive, clad in a bespoke black suit that strained against broad shoulders, his eyes burning with a rage that could scorch the earth.

"You thought you could hide here, Fiona?" His voice was a low growl that vibrated in my chest.

My legs gave way as the toxin hit my knees. I gripped the counter, trying to stay upright. "Who... who are you?" My tongue felt thick.

He didn't answer. He closed the distance between us in two strides, invading my personal space with terrifying speed. He grabbed my arm to haul me up, and the moment his skin touched mine, the world exploded.

Sparks.

Violent, electric currents shot from his grip, searing through the numbness of the toxin. My heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs, and a scent hit me—ozone, dark chocolate, and the wild freshness of a thunderstorm. My inner wolf, sluggish from the poison, suddenly snapped awake, whimpering in confused longing.

Mate?

No. This man was a monster.

"Stop playing the victim," he snarled, his grip tightening. He ignored the electricity arcing between us, or perhaps his fury was so great he mistook the bond for hatred. "You have a duty to fulfill."

"I'm not..." I tried to pull away, but my body was turning to stone. "I'm Scarlett..."

"Save your lies for the altar." He scooped me up effortlessly, tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

I couldn't scream. The paralysis had reached my throat. As he carried me out into the alley, I saw them—dozens of warriors in tactical gear, standing like statues beside a line of armored SUVs. The emblem on their chests was a snarling wolf entangled in thorns.

Blackwood. The most ruthless Pack in North America.

He shoved me into the back of a leather-clad SUV. The door slammed shut, sealing my fate.

The next hour was a blur of bureaucratic violence.