"Perhaps you'll pay with your head?" Alpha Kael teased, his voice thick with mockery as he let out a dark, maniacal laugh. His prisoner, Darius, trembled where he sat, unable to respond—his mouth stuffed with a cloth, his muffled cries barely audible through the fabric.
Kael's laugh echoed around the small, dimly lit living room. He casually dropped himself onto a worn-out couch, the only furniture in the room that seemed remotely used to comfort. The rest of the place looked like it had given up trying—peeling walls, uneven floor tiles, and a sagging single bed pushed against the far end. The only things that brought life to the room were the flowers, multiple vases of them, scattered like an afterthought—bright, colorful, defiant. They didn't belong here, yet somehow, they stayed.
Kael leaned back, legs spread comfortably as if he were in his palace, not the crumbling living space of a man who had dared to steal from him.
Darius was bound tightly to a wooden chair, the ropes cutting into his skin. Right beside him, on her knees, was his wife. Rebecca was crying—pleading in broken whispers, her mascara-smudged face tilted up to the Alpha as if prayer alone could save them. But Kael barely spared her a glance. To him, her begging was background noise, the kind a person learned to ignore like a buzzing fan or an annoying fly.
"What do we do now, Darius?" Kael asked, voice calm, almost bored, like this was business as usual. "I'm not leaving here without my money."
He flicked a hand toward one of his guards, who immediately stepped forward and yanked the cloth out of Darius' mouth.
"Just give me more time, Alpha. I'll—"
The rest of his plea was cut short with a brutal blow. The guard's gun slammed against his skull, and Darius let out a low grunt as his head snapped sideways. Blood trickled down the side of his face, joining the map of bruises and wounds already covering his body. Rebecca let out a sharp sob, her voice shaking as she tried to reach for him, only to get yanked back by another guard.
"More time?" Kael spat, rising slightly. "You didn't need more time when you stole from me."
It was only days ago the story broke—a vase had gone missing from the Alpha's private estate. Not just any vase. An ancestral relic. Priceless. Darius, the loyal gardener, was gone that same night. The theft had been swift, almost professional. He thought he had time. He thought wrong.
Alpha Kael was not known to dirty his hands when it came to retrieving stolen property. He had men for that. Efficient, ruthless men. So when Darius opened the door earlier that day and saw Kael himself standing there, he hadn't even had time to scream before the punch landed. His lip still hadn't stopped bleeding since then.
The vase was sold quickly—millions in hand, a new life within reach. Darius and Rebecca had already begun packing. Their bags were hidden in the closet. That night, they were supposed to flee, leave everything behind. Start over. That was the plan. But now the plan was bleeding on the floor and begging for mercy.
Rebecca coughed, her hands trembling. And then—an idea. One that might turn the Alpha's fury into pity.
"We needed the money… Alpha," she stammered, wiping her tears on the back of her hand. "Our daughter… she was sick and—"
"Your daughter?" Kael interrupted, lifting an eyebrow. "Your daughter was sick… and you treated her with my money?"
Darius gave a small nod, seizing on the moment. Kael's gaze narrowed as if he was considering the possibility. For a brief second, just a flicker, his expression shifted—softened, even.
But it didn't last.
Kael was not a man known for compassion. Sympathy was beneath him. If anything, he fed off pain. He liked it when people squirmed, when they wept, when they'd do anything just to make the suffering stop. People like Darius, people who would steal the second no one was looking—they disgusted him. But misery? That he could stomach.
"Bring your daughter here," he said suddenly.
Rebecca froze. Her mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. Panic surged in her chest. What had she done? She bit down on her lower lip, hard enough to taste blood. This wasn't supposed to go this way. She had only wanted to buy time.
She knew exactly what the Alpha was capable of. Kael wasn't just feared because of his power. He was a chronic womanizer. A predator with wealth, influence, and no moral compass. Young women were his favorite. Beautiful, untouched, vulnerable. If he laid eyes on her daughter, she wouldn't be safe. She'd never be safe again.
Just then, the front door creaked open.
Yusa stepped inside, her arms full of shopping bags. She had just returned from the local market. She paused when she saw the guards, her aunt on the floor, her uncle barely conscious, and the stranger in the room whose presence demanded fear. Her body froze mid-step. Her instinct was to turn and run.
"Yusa!" Rebecca's voice rang out.
"Yes… aun—?"
"That's her. That's our daughter," Rebecca said quickly, her voice wobbling with desperation. She rushed toward the girl, grabbing her shoulders, forcing her to stay still. "Just shut up," she hissed under her breath, pinching her hard.
Kael tilted his head, inspecting the girl. The hoodie she wore was oversized, hiding most of her figure, but it couldn't conceal her beauty. There was something arresting about her face—young and delicate, almost ethereal. Her skin looked soft even under the poor lighting. Her hair, a silky blonde, was tied up in a bun, revealing the sharp lines of her cheekbones and the natural pout of her lips.
His breath caught slightly. She was breathtaking.
"I'll take her," Kael said, voice flat.
It wasn't a request. It was a command. A declaration. Like a man buying livestock at a market.
"What?" Darius and Rebecca echoed together, their voices cracking.
"I said I'll take her." Kael repeated himself without blinking. Then, without looking at them, he turned to his right-hand man. "Make arrangements for the wedding. Tomorrow at dusk."
Rebecca let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. "Wedding? What wedding?"
Kael was infamous for his women. He had many—wives, concubines, mistresses. He was deep into his fifties, had married his last wife six years ago, and had since resorted to taking women without the pretense of ceremony. A wedding was unexpected. A wedding was terrifying. Because a wedding meant permanence.
Kael only married the ones he wanted to own completely.
"I'm going to marry your daughter at dusk tomorrow," he said, walking toward the door without sparing them another glance. "It's either that… or your heads. Now."