My Alpha Imprisoned Me Then Tried to Force Our Bond

The silver lining on the dungeon walls had been my torment for three years. Today, it would be my salvation.

I pressed my palm against the loose shard I'd spent weeks working free from the wall, ignoring the searing pain as the silver burned into my flesh. The guard's footsteps echoed down the corridor—closer now. My heart hammered against my ribs as I concealed the shard in my sleeve.

"Just a few more minutes," I whispered to myself, watching the door. The pack house above was in chaos—preparations for a ceremony of some kind. Everyone was distracted. Everyone except the guard who'd been assigned to watch me.

"Check," he muttered, peering through the small window in the door. His eyes barely registered my presence before he continued down the hallway.

Now.

I lunged forward, pressing the silver shard against the lock mechanism. The metal sizzled and smoked, the acrid smell making my eyes water. Pain shot through my fingers as the silver burned deeper into my palm, but I couldn't stop. Not now.

With a final push, the lock gave way. I stumbled out of the cell, my legs trembling beneath me. Three years of confinement had left me weaker than I'd ever been, but determination drove me forward.

"The Alpha's orders were specific," I heard a voice say from around the corner. "No one enters or leaves without his permission."

I pressed myself against the wall, holding my breath. The guard had returned faster than I'd anticipated.

"Except for the ceremony preparations," another voice replied. "The decorators need access to the entire lower level."

My mind raced. Ceremony? What ceremony required decorations throughout the pack house?

I crept through the shadows, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor. Every step sent pain shooting through my weakened body, but I forced myself to keep moving. I needed to see what was happening upstairs.

The main hall had been transformed. White flowers and silver ribbons adorned every surface. Pack members rushed about, arranging tables and adjusting lights. At the far end of the room, an altar had been erected, decorated with more white flowers and candles.

A mating ceremony.

My stomach twisted into knots as realization dawned. There was only one reason the Alpha would hold such an event—Beckham was officially taking a mate.

"Is everything ready?" A familiar voice cut through the noise. Delilah. My former best friend stood in the center of the room, directing the decorators with an air of authority I'd never seen in her before.

"Almost, Luna," one of the pack members replied.

Luna. The word echoed in my mind like a death knell.

I watched from the shadows as Delilah touched the pendant hanging from her neck—my pendant, the one meant for the true Luna of the Onyx Claw Pack. The pendant that had been mine before Beckham rejected me.

Before I could stop myself, I stepped into the light.

The room fell silent.

"Rebecca?" Someone whispered my name, and then the whispers spread like wildfire.

"She's supposed to be in the dungeon."

"How did she get out?"

"Look at her—she's half dead."

Delilah's eyes widened in feigned horror. "Protect the Alpha!" she screamed, clutching the pendant at her throat. "She's come to destroy our mating ceremony!"

The music stopped. The dancers froze. And then Beckham appeared at the entrance to the main hall, his eyes locking with mine across the room.

For a moment, no one moved. The air crackled with tension as his Alpha aura flared instinctively, trying to suppress the interruption. But I had survived three years in a silver-lined cell. His aura couldn't touch me now.

"Beckham," I said, my voice stronger than I felt. "Finish what you started three years ago."

The crowd parted as I walked toward him, my rags and dirt a stark contrast to the pristine decorations around us.

"Complete the rejection," I demanded, standing tall despite the trembling in my limbs. "Free us both from this bond."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Delilah clutched Beckham's arm, her perfectly manicured nails digging into his skin.

"She's delusional," Beckham said finally, his voice carrying across the silent hall. "She's not well. She needs help."

"I need freedom," I countered. "You started the rejection ritual three years ago. Finish it."

Beckham's jaw tightened. "I refuse."

The words hit me like a physical blow. He refused to let me go.

"You can't keep me prisoner forever," I said, fighting to keep my voice steady.

"You're not a prisoner," Beckham replied smoothly. "You're unwell. You need rest and care."

He gestured to two guards. "Escort Rebecca to the east guest room. Make sure she's comfortable."

"Beckham—" I began, but he cut me off.

"That's an order," he said, his Alpha tone washing over me.

The guards moved to either side of me, not touching me but making their presence known.

"Your ceremony can continue," I said bitterly. "I'll be going now."

As they led me away, I caught Delilah's triumphant smile. She leaned closer to Beckham, whispering something in his ear that made him nod in agreement.

I had escaped one prison only to find myself in another—this one gilded and decorated with white flowers and silver ribbons.