Chapter 5 Alpha’s Orders

My head throbbed. The pain wrapped around my skull like a crown of thorns. I opened my eyes to a ceiling of stitched animal hides.

I pushed myself up. A sharp sting ripped through my ribs. My breath hitched. The cot beneath me was a pile of rough furs thrown over a crude iron frame. I looked down at my body. Someone had wiped the worst of the mud from my arms. Someone had bandaged my torso with strips of coarse linen. My ruined black silk dress hung in tatters around my thighs.

Every muscle screamed a different protest. My legs felt like lead. The crash had battered my body in ways I was just beginning to register. A dark bruise painted the side of my left hip. A jagged cut trailed down my forearm, the blood crusted and dry. My mind played a cruel loop of the plane tearing apart, the sky turning red, the vacuum sucking the life out of the cabin.

I pushed the memory down. Panic was a luxury I could not afford. Survival required a cold heart and a clear head. I inspected the tent. Thick wooden poles supported the massive animal hides. A fire pit sat in the center, the embers glowing a dull orange.

This was a place built for slaughter. There was no comfort here, no compromise. I needed to establish my value before they decided I was just another piece of spoils to be claimed and discarded.

I swung my legs over the edge of the cot. My bare feet hit a cold dirt floor. The chill sent a shiver up my spine. I took a steadying breath. I remembered the burning metal of the plane. I remembered the gray sky and the twin moons. I remembered the giant with golden eyes claiming me like a piece of meat.

The tent flap opened. A woman stepped inside.

She held a wooden bowl of water and a bundle of dried leaves. Her hair was stark white, braided thick down her back. A pair of pointed ears poked through the strands. Her skin held a faint silver sheen in the dim light.

"You are awake," the woman said. Her voice was soft. She kept her eyes glued to the dirt floor. "I am Cassara. I am here to change your bindings."

"Where am I?" I asked. My throat felt like sandpaper. I hated the weakness in my voice.

"The Northern encampment. You are in the Alpha’s personal tent."

She stepped closer and reached for the hem of my torn dress.

I slapped her hand.

Cassara flinched. She scrambled backward, clutching the wooden bowl to her chest. Water sloshed over the rim and hit the dirt.

"Do not touch me," I warned. "I do not know you. I do not want your dirty water anywhere near my skin."

"The Alpha commanded me to clean your wounds," Cassara stammered. Her pointed ears twitched.

"I do not care what your Alpha wants. I want a phone. I want to call my manager. And I want a real doctor."

Cassara stared at me. Her wide eyes mirrored genuine confusion. She had no idea what a phone or a manager was. The reality sank its claws deeper into my chest. I was cut off from everything I knew. My wealth meant nothing here. My status was useless. The platinum credit cards in my purse were melted plastic on a battlefield.

A low growl vibrated through the heavy canvas of the tent.

The flap tore open. Vasilis ducked his head to clear the entrance.

The tent was massive, yet his presence made the space shrink. He wore the same blood-stained leather from the battlefield. The thick scent of pine and copper followed him. His golden eyes locked onto me, taking in my rigid posture and the terrified servant cowering in the corner.

"Leave us, Cassara," he ordered.

The woman did not speak. She scurried past him and vanished into the cold air outside.

We were alone.

Vasilis crossed his arms over his broad chest. The jagged scar traversing his skin stretched tight. He evaluated me. He waited for me to shrink away. He waited for the trembling to start. He was an apex predator, and he expected the prey to surrender.

I stood up.

My ribs screamed in protest, but I kept my face blank. I lifted my chin and met his stare. I stood five feet and seven inches. He towered over me at six-and-a-half feet. He was a mountain of muscle and lethal instinct. I was bruised, barefoot, and dressed in rags.

I did not care.

Vasilis was not like the men in Paris. He was a creature of impulse and power. He wore his dominance like a second skin. The way he moved, the way he breathed, the way he looked at me—it was entirely predatory.

"You dismissed my healer," Vasilis stated. His voice was a deep rumble in the quiet space.

"She brought me dirty water in a wooden bowl," I replied. "I am not a farm animal."

A flicker of surprise crossed his face. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a dangerous smirk. He took a deliberate step toward me. The heavy thud of his boots echoed against the dirt.

"You fell from the sky in a burning metal tube," Vasilis said. "You smell like fear and ash. You are bleeding on my furs. You should show gratitude, little bird. I saved your life."

"You kidnapped me."

"I claimed you."