Name Your Price

Calla’s POV

I stayed frozen on the hard floor of the reception pavilion, the cold, gritty dirt pressing unforgivingly into my battered, bruised knees. The chaotic ringing in my ears drowned out the sudden, deafening silence of the elite crowd. *Bride?* My breath hitched painfully in my dry throat, sticking like a jagged piece of glass. My pulse hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. This terrifying Alpha, a man known across the entire continent for his brutal, unforgiving nature and unmatched lethality, wanted to take me away? The sheer, unadulterated absurdity of his declaration paralyzed me. My mind raced with dark, frantic suspicions. Was he merely dragging me away to humiliate me further in his own territory because I had accidentally touched him earlier? Vaughn’s reputation was soaked in blood and vengeance. Or was there a far more sinister, twisted motive hiding behind those pitch-black, soulless eyes?

Going to his remote pack meant total, devastating isolation. I would be ripped away from the only borders I had ever known, cut off from the familiar woods, and left at the mercy of a notoriously disreputable and dangerous Alpha. My mind flashed with rumors I had heard whispered in the servant quarters—tales of Vaughn’s brutal conquests, the enemies he had buried, and the iron-fisted way he ruled his lands. If he decided to lock me in a dungeon and throw away the key, no one would ever come looking for me. My body trembled involuntarily, every survival instinct screaming that this towering man was an apex predator, and I was nothing but bleeding prey.

Before Vaughn could take another step toward me, a frantic blur of motion broke the heavy tension. Corbin shoved his way forward, his face flushed an ugly, mottled red, his chest heaving with desperate, clawing panic. He was terrified of losing his grip on power, terrified of being humiliated in front of his new, high-society in-laws. Sweat beaded thickly on his forehead, catching the bright glare of the pavilion chandeliers. He reached out, planting a physical hand right onto Vaughn’s broad, imposing chest. It was a foolish, reckless, suicidal move.

"Alpha, please," Corbin urged, his voice tight and breathless, frantic to redirect the powerful Alpha's sudden fixation. "There are many other women in our pack. High-ranking females. Pure, untouched females bred for strong bloodlines, possessing grace and poise. They are far more suitable for a man of your stature and power." Corbin sneered, pointing a trembling finger down at my dirt-streaked face. "This woman is a criminal! She is a slave! A branded piece of filth who belongs in the mud. She cannot possibly be good enough to grace your halls!"

Vaughn didn't even flinch. He slowly lowered his chin, his dark, lethal eyes locking onto the trembling hand resting on his chest. Pure, unadulterated disgust rolled off him in suffocating, heavy waves, thick enough to choke the air right out of my burning lungs. With a sharp, brutal jerk, he ruthlessly shook off Corbin’s grip. The sheer, explosive force of the movement made Corbin stumble back, his expensive dress shoes slipping awkwardly on the polished floorboards.

Vaughn ignored the cowardly Alpha's scramble for balance. He turned his cold, commanding gaze squarely onto me, pinning me to the floor with the sheer weight of his aura.

"You. Slave," his deep voice cracked over the pavilion like a heavy, punishing whip. The murmuring, whispering guests instantly choked on their own breath, falling into dead silence. "Do you have a true mate you are claimed by?"

The question hung in the charged air, heavy and loaded with lethal consequence. I dragged a desperate gasp of air into my burning lungs and forced my aching, trembling legs to move. I slowly pushed myself up from the dirt, my raw, bleeding wrists stinging sharply as they brushed against the torn fabric of my ruined dress. I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, bypassing Vaughn’s intimidating bulk to stare straight into Corbin’s pale, wide, terrified eyes.

I saw the raw, naked panic swimming in his irises. I knew exactly what he was terrified of. He had just spent the last hour parading Sloane around, exchanging vows, and cementing a massive, public lie to the entire pack.

"I don't," I answered. My voice rang out clear, calm, and uncompromising.

The very second those two words left my lips, the metaphysical repercussions of my truthful denial slammed into the atmosphere. It was a tangible force. It crackled fiercely along the frayed, severed edges of our old, hidden bond, a sharp, searing burst of raw energy that I felt tear through my chest like a physical blade. Corbin felt the devastating impact too. The remaining color drained from his face, leaving him looking like a rotting corpse. He began sweating profusely, the physical toll of his own heinous, suffocating lie regarding my supposed pregnancy and my rejection crushing down on his shoulders.

"She... wait... you can't," Corbin fumbled weakly, his eyes darting frantically between his furious new bride, the staring, judging guests, and the imposing, immovable Alpha. He wiped the sheen of sweat from his forehead with a trembling hand. "She cannot leave. She has to stay here. It's a matter of internal pack justice!"

Vaughn arched one thick, imposing eyebrow, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "Give me one convincing, logical reason why I cannot take an unclaimed slave off your hands. If she is as worthless as you claim, you should be dropping to your knees and thanking me."

Corbin opened his mouth, his jaw working uselessly, but no sound came out. The cowardly Alpha had nothing to say. He just stood there, drowning in his own pathetic impotence, stripped of his authority in front of everyone who mattered.

Vaughn didn't wait for him to find his missing spine. He gave me a curt, sharp gesture, commanding me to follow him. He turned and strode away from the dais, heading straight toward the main house. I swallowed hard, ignoring the burning, hateful stares of the elite guests, and trailed a few paces behind his massive frame.

We had to pass the bridal couple to reach the exit. As I walked past Sloane, her perfect, smug, victorious facade cracked into a mask of pure, ugly malice. Her eyes burned with venomous fury. As I drew level with her, she lashed out, delivering a vicious, spiteful kick directly to my already bruised shin.

The sharp, blinding pain shot up my leg, making my teeth click together as I fought to hold back a gasp.

"Stay here, you worthless bitch," Sloane whispered, her voice a venomous hiss meant only for my ears, her perfectly painted lips curling into a snarl. "You stay right here and receive your punishment. You belong under my heel."

I didn't give her the satisfaction of a reaction. I locked my jaw, ignored the fierce, throbbing ache radiating from my shin, kept my eyes locked on Vaughn's broad, retreating back, and kept walking.

The heavy, solid wooden door of the private sitting room clicked shut, the sound ringing with finality and isolating us from the rest of the world. The thumping music and the noise of the reception vanished instantly, leaving me trapped in a stifling, suffocating silence with a man whose very presence demanded submission. I crossed my arms tight over my chest, dropping my weight into a defensive stance. My heart hammered relentlessly against my ribs.

"If your goal is to bring me back to your territory and do something shady or disgraceful to me, I won’t accept," I stated firmly, refusing to let my voice shake. I refused to become just another powerful man's disposable toy. I had endured enough abuse, enough degradation, to last ten lifetimes. I would not walk blindly into another cage.

Vaughn scoffed loudly, the sound harsh, grating, and dismissive. He waved a large, calloused hand, batting away my concerns with arrogant ease. "Don't flatter yourself, slave. I have zero interest in your body."

He bypassed the plush velvet chairs and leaned back against a heavy mahogany desk, crossing his ankles. "This is about my daughter. Cleo."

I blinked, the defensive tension draining from my shoulders for a fraction of a second. "Cleo?" I asked, a spark of genuine warmth lighting up my chest as I recalled the sweet, innocent little girl with the soft curls.

"She has suffered a trauma," Vaughn stated, his tone turning blunt, clinical, and devoid of warmth. "A severe trauma that rendered her mute. She simply never speaks to anyone. Not to me, not to the pack, not to the best doctors."

I frowned, my confusion deepening into a hard knot. "That makes no sense. The little girl talked to me. She talked to me twice today."

Vaughn’s eyes narrowed into dark, calculating, suspicious slits. He pushed off the mahogany desk, stalking toward me like a massive predator zeroing in on a perceived threat. The sheer mass of his physical presence suffocated the small room, pressing the oxygen out of the air. He looked at me as if I were a complex, dangerous puzzle he was determined to rip apart with his bare hands.

"And that is exactly the problem," he growled, stopping just inches from me. "You succeeded where elite specialists have failed. You got her to speak. I know how people like you operate. I know the depths desperate slaves will sink to. You saw an opportunity, you used some dark manipulation or psychological trick to pull this miraculous scenario out of thin air, all to get close to my wealth and my power."

"I didn't do anything!" I shot back, appalled and insulted by the baseless accusation. "I didn't manipulate a child! She just came up to me on her own!"

"Save it," Vaughn snapped, cutting off my protests with a sharp wave of his hand. He issued his terms like a cold, ruthless business transaction. "Money, of course. I know that is what you are after. I will pay you at least one hundred thousand dollars a month. I will remove you from this pathetic pack. I will restore your freedom, wipe your criminal record clean, and give you a new life."

The staggering numbers echoed in my head, making my pulse race. One hundred thousand. A month. Freedom. A life far away from the chains that bound me here.

He took another agonizing step closer, his towering frame casting a dark, heavy shadow over me. "But," he warned, his tone dropping into a lethal, terrifying register that made the hairs on my arms stand up. "I cannot risk my daughter's safety. I do not trust you. I will only give you these things if you agree to unconditionally obey me."

I bristled, my defensive walls shooting right back up to maximum height. "Unconditional obedience? How is that any different from being a slave? I won't be your mindless puppet, bowing to your every whim just because you have money."

"You will do exactly as I say regarding Cleo. You will act as her mother. You will not step out of line, and you will follow my rules without question," Vaughn countered, his eyes flashing with raw, untamed Alpha dominance.

I clamped my mouth shut, my mind spinning furiously as I weighed the dire, life-altering options spread out before me. If I stayed in this pack, I knew exactly what horrors awaited me. Sloane would continue her daily, agonizing physical torture. She would whip me, burn my skin with scalding tea, and starve me until she broke my spirit or buried my body in the woods.

And Corbin... Corbin would never stop. A cold shudder of pure revulsion crawled down my spine at the memory of his forceful, violating hands. He had a sick, twisted obsession with asserting his dominance over my flesh. Staying meant enduring Corbin's ongoing sexual assaults. It meant being dragged into dark rooms against my will, forced to submit to his vile, non-consensual advances whenever he pleased, feeling his heavy body crush mine, suffering through his violating thrusts and raw physical dominance while his new wife watched and laughed from her pedestal. It was a literal, waking nightmare. I would rather die than let that monster touch me again.

But leaving with Vaughn? It meant immediate escape from Corbin's violating sexual abuse and Sloane's endless cruelty. It meant I would actually get to care for Cleo, the sweet, innocent girl who had shown me the only ounce of pure kindness I had felt in months. I wanted to protect her. I wanted to hear her voice again.

More importantly, accepting this deal gave me a fortress. A secure, impenetrable place to bide my time, heal my broken body, and grow stronger. My imagination sparked, painting a vivid, glorious picture of the future. I saw myself returning to this territory, not as a broken, bleeding, branded slave, but as a powerful, independent, untouchable woman. I pictured forcing Corbin and Sloane to their knees, making them realize their cruel, catastrophic mistake as they groveled in the mud, crying and begging for my forgiveness while I looked down at them with cold apathy.

A grim, determined smile touched my cracked lips as I looked up at the towering Alpha. He thought he was buying a submissive pawn. He had no idea he was giving me a weapon.

"I—" I started to speak, ready to accept the heavy, suffocating deal and seal my fate.

BANG.

The heavy oak door suddenly flew open, slamming hard against the plastered wall with the force of a gunshot. A terrified pack servant rushed into the room, his knees practically buckling under his own weight. He cringed, bowing so deeply his nose nearly touched the expensive carpet, trembling uncontrollably under Vaughn's furious, imposing glare. The sharp, acrid scent of the servant's fear flooded the small room.

"Apologies, Alpha! A thousand apologies for the intrusion," the servant stammered, cold sweat pouring down his pale face. "I bring a counter-offer from Alpha Corbin."

Vaughn didn't move. He didn't speak. He just waited, his heavy silence far more terrifying than any roar.

The servant swallowed loudly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Alpha Corbin says... he says you may only take the woman away if you pay ten million dollars." The servant paused, gulping desperately for air, his eyes darting to the floor. "And... and agree to concede one of your territories to his pack!"

My blood instantly ran freezing cold. The temperature in the sitting room seemed to plummet below zero. My mouth hung open in utter, paralyzing shock.

Ten million dollars.

And a territory.

That sum wasn't just a ransom. It was an astronomical, unheard-of king's ransom that could buy an entire city. And a territory? An Alpha’s territory was his pride, his strategic stronghold, his resources. Surrendering land was an act of submission, a devastating blow to an Alpha's power. My heart plummeted straight into my stomach, a crushing, suffocating wave of despair collapsing my lungs. I stared at the shaking servant, unable to process the sheer, unmitigated audacity of the demand.

Corbin was utilizing this bizarre, unprecedented opportunity for his own greedy, selfish political gain. He knew I wanted to leave. He knew Vaughn wanted me for his daughter. And the cowardly Alpha was trying to squeeze an entire empire out of the situation.

A heavy, suffocating dread settled over my bones. I looked at Vaughn's rigid jaw and hardened profile. No one in the world would ever pay that much money. No Alpha, no matter how rich or powerful, would ever surrender a piece of their sovereign land, their pack's sacred home, for a worthless, battered, branded slave. It was a demand designed specifically to be rejected. Corbin had trapped me. I was certain, down to the marrow of my bones, that Vaughn would turn his back, walk out that door, and abandon me to my terrible fate.