Mafia Boss's Angel

The road was still roasting from the day’s sun when my friends, Carson and Lisa, pulled away. I stood there alone, feeling tiny as the thick Pennsylvania woods seemed to swallow me whole. My paws still felt like they were thumping—a weird leftover feeling from the miles I’d spent running in my wolf form.

I looked toward the trees where the Silverblade pack territory started. I wasn't just looking for a new home; I was looking for a fortress. I needed to hide from the man who had spent years making me feel like I didn't even exist in my own skin.

As I stepped across the invisible border line, the forest changed. it felt like someone was watching. The quiet was spooky, broken only by a faint, high-pitched hum that sounded like hidden security sensors.

Then, the hum turned into a terrifying snarl.

Two huge wolves stepped out from the bushes, their eyes glowing like flashlights in the dark. Drool hit the dry leaves as they circled me, moving like a team of hunters that had just found their dinner.

I reached for the small bag Lisa had packed for me, trying to use it as a shield, but it was nothing against three hundred pounds of muscle and sharp teeth.

Before I could even scream, a brown blur slammed into me.

I hit the dirt hard, and the wind was knocked right out of my lungs. My wolf, Val, started scratching at the back of my mind, desperate to jump out and fight, but I knew we were totally outmatched.

The brown wolf began to change, bones popping and stretching until a shirtless, messy-haired warrior was standing over me.

He didn't look sorry for me at all; he looked at me like I was a bug he wanted to squash.

"Shift," he growled. "Now."

I let the change take over. The heat of shifting always hurts, and it left me shivering and feeling totally exposed on the forest floor. I scrambled to grab my red tank top and pants from my bag, my hands shaking like leaves because I could feel them staring at me.

"I mean no harm"I said putting two hands up in the air to show it.

"I’m looking for safety," I choked out, trying to keep my voice from wobbling. "I want to join the training program. I heard Silverblade was fair to people."

The two warriors looked at each other and laughed. "Silverblade is for the strong," the dark-haired one spat. He tossed a pair of heavy zip-ties to his friend. "Rouges aren't 'fair.' They're targets."

"I'm not a rouge!" I shouted, but before I could finish the sentence or say anything more they handcuffed me.

The last thing I saw was the glint of a needle—a tranquilizer—pointed at my neck. "Welcome to the jail, stray," the brown-haired wolf whispered. Then, the whole world went black.

When I woke up, I was in a cell made of cold stone and thick steel. It smelled like fear and urine. I sat in the corner, rubbing my sore wrists and listening to the distant sounds of the pack.

I had acted on a whim, running away from my stepfather’s shadow, only to end up in a high-tech cage.

I was a nobody here. No rank, no ID,no rights and certainly no Alpha release letter that's why I'm termed a rouge, a runaway!

Suddenly, the heavy steel door at the end of the hall groaned open. The footsteps that followed weren't fast like a guard’s; they were heavy, slow, and felt like they belonged to someone who owned everything they touched.

As the person got closer, a smell hit me like a punch to the gut—it smelled like rain on dry earth, cinnamon, and something wild that made my blood feel like it was on fire.

"Mate!” Val howled inside my head, her spirit immediately bowing down in respect.

I looked up, and I couldn't breathe. Standing behind the bars was a man who looked like he was carved out of stone and shadows. His golden eyes glowed with a golden scary light, watching the way my heart was thumping in my neck.

This wasn't just some soldier. This was the Alpha.

He narrowed his eyes, his nose flaring as he caught my scent. The air in the tiny cell became thick and hot, making it hard to breathe.

His gaze moved to my lips, then scanned down my body with a cold, mean look that made my skin crawl and tingle at the same time.

"Female," he said. His voice was a low, deep rumble that I could feel vibrating in my own chest. "I’m told I have a trespasser. A stray pretending to be a refugee."

I stood up. My legs felt like jelly, but I kept my chin up. "I'm not a stray. I'm a survivor."

The Alpha stepped closer. The power coming off him was so thick I could almost taste it. He gripped the bars until his knuckles turned white. His face twisted into a look that didn't look like love at all—it looked like total, pure hate.

"Survivors follow rules," he whispered, his eyes flashing a dangerous gold. "And my first rule is that I don't keep trash in my territory—mate or not."

My heart stopped. He knew. He felt the bond, and he was already stepping back, his face turning into a mask of ice.