Arranged To The Beast Alpha
Trap

DAMIEN

The moment we stepped into the penthouse, I caught it-that strange scent lingering in the air, faint but unmistakable.

It was stale smoke, cigarettes, an undertone of sour drugs, but sharper, more unsettling. I knew it too well. It was the same scent from the warehouse, where I had gotten close enough to memorize it.

There was no mistaking it now. An assassin was here, lurking somewhere in the shadows, hidden but close.

I thought of telling Leah, but that would only traumatize her further; I was giving her the coldest shoulder more than enough times, and she'd probably just brush off any warning I gave her.

And besides, I was in no mood to politely drop the news that we might be ambushed any second.

Instead, I slipped toward the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the drawer. The weight of it felt solid and reliable-a sharp edge that could save lives. Silently, I stepped out of the penthouse and made my way into the woods, the scent getting stronger with each step I took. It clung to the air, guiding me like a trail of breadcrumbs.

I stopped by a tree, my gaze zeroing in on something dark hanging off one of the lower branches. It was a jacket, crumpled and carelessly tossed, like a mark left behind on purpose.

I knew that jacket. I had also seen it at the warehouse. I clenched my jaw. He was here, leading me on this trail, pulling me out into the open.

And then it hit me this was a setup. He had led me out here, away from the penthouse, just so he could slip past me and finish the job he had started.

I whipped around, adrenaline surging through my veins, and then I ran back to the penthouse.

My instincts roared in my chest, pushing me forward. But just as I hit my stride, I missed the ground. A second later, I was tumbling, hitting the bottom of a pit with a bone-jarring thud.

The sound that tore from my throat was a low, furious growl, echoing up through the trees. I had been outsmarted, and there was nothing I hated more. Every muscle in my body tensed with rage, and I could practically see the assassin's smirk, imagining he had managed to trap me. Not a chance.

My claws elongated, sharp, and ready, and I dug them into the dirt walls of the ditch. Gritting my teeth, I started to climb, the rough edges of the wall tearing at my fingers, but I didn't care. My only thought was getting out of there and making it back to the penthouse before that assassin could even think about celebrating.

Once I pulled myself out, I was on my feet, charging through the trees, ignoring every branch that whipped against me. The only thing on my mind was getting back, replaceing him, and making sure he knew exactly what happened to anyone who tried to trap me.

By the time the penthouse came into view, my heart dropped. Smoke curled up from the top floor, a dark plume staining the sky like a scar. Every instinct I had screamed to move faster. I parked half on the curb, leaving the door open as I sprinted toward the building, mind racing, fists clenched. Then I heard Leah scream-her voice sharp and desperate, slicing through the panic.

When I finally burst into the penthouse, the smoke was thicker, swirling around from the upper room and spilling into the living room, clouding my vision. But I could see them-Leah, on her knees, trembling, with a man standing behind her, one arm wrapped around her neck, a glinting knife pressed to her throat.

"Come any closer, and she's dead," he warned voice steady, almost taunting. Leah's sobs filled the room, soft but steady, each one carving deeper into me.

I forced myself to stay calm, to think. Anger boiled under my skin, each breath fueling the fire in my veins, but I kept it locked down. I needed to be smart and careful. One wrong move, and he would hurt her, maybe worse.

"You don't want to do this," I said, trying to keep my voice level, though every word felt like a growl. "Let her go, or you will regret it."

But he only laughed, pressing the knife closer. Leah winced, eyes shut tight, a tear slipping down her cheek.

I had never felt more powerless, more infuriated. This wasn't just about him or me it was the whole corrupted system, this toxic view that turned women into pawns, disposable pieces in someone else's sick game. Leah was suffering because some twisted Alpha somewhere thought he could send a message by targeting her.

My hand crept to my pocket, fingers brushing the cool handle of my knife. It was a slim chance, but I had to take it. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, I pulled the knife out and, in one quick motion, threw it with everything I had. The blade found its mark, sinking deep into his shoulder. He stumbled back, his grip loosening just enough for Leah to break free, collapsing onto the floor. Without thinking, I lunged forward, slamming him against the wall. My hand found the knife, yanking it from his shoulder, and I drove it into his stomach, again and again, each striking an outlet for the rage I had kept buried.

When he finally went down, breath rattling, I grabbed him by the collar, hauling him up so I could look him in the eyes. "Who sent you?" I demanded, voice low and raw. He only glared, a smirk ghosting across his bloodied face, and spat out a mouthful of blood, his silence like an insult.

I leaned in closer, letting the full weight of my Alpha presence press down on him. "Who sent you to kill my wife?" My voice was sharp, unrelenting, and this time he flinched, eyes darting away.

"I-I don't know his name," he stammered, his bravado crumbling. "He's got messengers... people who handle the dirty work. He just assigned me to... Luna Leah."

"That logo. Who runs it, what does it represent ?"

"Underdoggs, we are a gang of thieves and rogue wolves. We got hired by a man I had never seen before; I only got a job from his constant visits; he had one eye and wore an eyepatch. I believe he is a messenger; he warned us, stating we had to kill the right woman or the boss would have our heads."

The truth rang in his words, and I could feel the power of my Alpha aura breaking through his defenses. This man was just a pawn, another piece in someone else's twisted game. It didn't matter. I wouldn't let him take another breath. Without hesitation, I slid the blade across his throat, watching as his eyes dulled, his body slumping to the ground.

But then I turned, and my heart stopped. Leah was lying on the floor, barely moving, blood pooling around her, she was bleeding from the arrow stuck to her arm.

Panic surged, overtaking every other thought as I dropped to her side, scooping her into my arms. I couldn't waste a second.

"Leah, stay with me," I whispered, my voice shaking, my pulse hammering as I carried her down the stairs. Every step felt like an eternity, but I didn't let myself think about anything else. She was going to make it. She had to.

At the car, I laid her in the passenger seat, fastening the seatbelt with trembling hands. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow, and my mind raced with every possibility, every horror I didn't want to think about. But I forced myself to focus, gunning the engine and tearing down the street to the closest hospital.

When we pulled up, I barely parked before rushing to get her inside.

"Hey, help us. My wife is injured, hurry!" I yelled alerting the hospital of the emergency. Nurses raced out, most gasping as they recognized me.

The doctors took her immediately, a flurry of white coats, and shouted orders as they wheeled her away. I stood there, feeling the emptiness as they disappeared around the corner.

I sank into one of the hard plastic chairs, hands stained with blood that wasn't mine, head spinning, heart heavy. What did I even agree to this stupid honeymoon and how did that assassin replace us.