003: The Meeting 

The chill of the ropes had torn at her wrists as she was dragged along by the men, stumbling with her feet on uneven ground. She couldn't see anything. The blindfold around her eyes blocked out every little speck of light. Every step was compelled by harsh grips that kept her up while her body fought its exhaustion and fear.

"Move," one of them growled, pushing her forward.

She breathed laboriously, her heart against her rib cage. She had no idea where they were taking her, but something in the way they talked about "the Alpha" twisted her gut. She had heard of men like him, powerful, ruthless, and untouchable. Men who thrive on the suffering of others, who think of people like her no more than as tools or toys.

The journey was long, and her senses heightened in the absence of sight. She felt the shift from the damp forest floor to cold stone, the air growing cooler and carrying a faint metallic tang. A door creaked open, and she was shoved inside.

"Stay here," one of the men said, emotionless.

She heard the door shut behind her, the sound echoing in silence. The blindfold remained secured, and she was shrouded in darkness. Her legs buckled, and she dropped to her knees, her breathing shallow. She did not cry; she could not afford to. But her body shook, and her mind was slowly grasping the situation.

One thing was for sure about whoever this Alpha was- he was not going to save her.

————

Inside the more lavish mansion, Alpha Ryland sat in his office, nursing a glass of whiskey. Rich with a high ceiling, rich mahogany furniture, and a large fireplace crackling softly, he leaned back in his leather chair, emerald eyes scanning the papers in front of him.

He was every inch the Alpha he was: tall, commanding, impossibly handsome. His wild red hair fell in disarray over his forehead, giving him that untamed, dangerous look. Even under his tailored suit, his broad chest and muscular arms were evident, and a sharp jawline gave him an air of authority, respect- and a fear-commanding aura.

Ryland was a man of control. His pack respected him and feared him and his word was a law without question. Powerful as an Alpha and a businessman, Ryland's influence and bank account rivaled most outside of the reaches of his territory. But deep down and beyond other prying eyes, he could be darker. He never found a mate, and over the years, he had indulged himself in other ways that fed a need deep inside for dominance and control.

"Alpha," a voice cut into his thoughts.

He looked up to find his Beta filling the doorway.

"What is it?" Ryland questioned, his voice low, even.

"We found someone in the forest," the other wolf said. "A woman. She's different."

Ryland raised an eyebrow. "Different how?"

"She's wild, untamed. But there's something about her. I thought you'd want to see for yourself."

Ryland set his glass down and stood, towering over the space around him. "Bring her to me."

---

The door to her room creaked open, and the sound of boots on stone made her tense.

"Get up," one of the men barked.

Before she could do anything, they had her arms and pulled her to her feet. She struggled weakly; her exhaustion made her resistance futile.

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded, trying to sound firm, though her voice cracked.

"You'll see soon enough," the man replied with a smirk she couldn't see.

She was whisked through what seemed to be a maze of corridors, cold air nibbling at her skin. Her mind could raise a thousand questions and fears, but she made her head remain steadfastly calm.

As they finally stopped, the creaking of a big door opening made her jump. She was pushed inside, still blindfolded.

"Alpha," one of them said, "we have brought her."

For a minute, there was no voice utterance, silent except for the tenseness outside her. She felt a staring glare on her person sharp enough.

"Leave us alone," a deep voice ordered.

Without arguments, the men got out, the door shutting them behind. She was left just with him now.

"Take the blindfold off," he instructed.

A hand pulled the cloth from her face, and a tide of light blinded her. She blinked very fast until her eyes began taking in the light. Her sight finally cleared enough to stare directly into the most intimidating man she had ever laid eyes upon.

He sat behind a large desk, his emerald eyes regarding her with equal curiosity and disdain. All that raw power and confidence filled the room until it seemed to shrink much further in size.

She just stood there, her body quivering but proud, meeting his gaze with a trembling fear.

Ryland tilted his head, studying her. She was a mess—dirty, bruised, and exhausted. But beneath the grime, he could see the outline of someone who did not belong in this territory. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell in loose waves over her face, and her hazel eyes burned with a mixture of fear and defiance.

“You are not from around here,” he said, his voice smooth, but cold.

She did not respond, rather her jaw tightened.

“What is your name?" he asked, leaning back in his chair.

She hesitated. "Why do you care?"

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Feisty. I like that."

He rose, looming over her as he rounded the desk. She tensed as he approached, her instincts screaming at her to take a step back, but her legs didn't move.

He stopped before her, emerald eyes glinting as they narrowed. "You're a rogue," he said belittlingly. "Weak. Pathetic."

She fisted her hands into balls, but said nothing.

"Still," he said, eyes trailing along her figure. "You're interesting. I wonder how someone like you came to be in my territory."

She scowled up at him. "I didn't choose to be here."

He grinned. "Clearly."

The door opened a second time, and a woman came in. Tall and gracious, her perfect dark hair, framed sharp calculating eyes shining brightly with warmth and irritation as they latched onto Ryland.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked in a smooth voice of silk.

Ryland turned to her; his face softened just that little bit. "Not at all."

She cast the woman standing in the center of the room a glance up, one eyebrow rising. "Who's this?"

"No one important," Ryland returned dismissively. "Just a stray."

The woman smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "Well, don't let her distract you. We have plans tonight, remember?"

Ryland nodded. "Of course.”

Turning to the girl then, his face hardened. "Take her to the lower quarters," he ordered. "Keep her there until I decide what to do with her."

The guards reentered, grabbing her arms once more. She didn't resist this time, her body too tired to fight.

As they dragged her away, Ryland's gaze stayed a little longer on her. There was this thing about her, something he could not quite place.

He ignored it, for now, he had turned to his fiancée, "Shall we?"