The stranger was tall and strikingly handso, wearing a suit that cost more than a small house, but his eyes were sharp with a moral authority that even Zach couldn’t ignore.
"You’re overstepping, Zach," the man said, his voice authoritative. "Harassing a woman—slave or not—at a peaceful summit is against the laws of the High Council. We are here for diplomacy, not to satisfy your lack of self-control."
Zach pulled his arm away, rubbing his wrist and scoffing. "Co on, Alexander. Don’t be a bore. She’s just a slave. Damien keeps her as a plaything; why shouldn’t the rest of us get a turn?"
The man, Alpha Alexander, didn’t flinch. "Regardless of her status, she is under Damien’s protection and the laws of this summit. You are not allowed to touch her unless her master gives his explicit consent. Since Damien is not here, I suggest you move along before he returns and decides to make this a bloodbath."
Zach growled, looking between Alexander’s stern face and Sofia’s trembling form. Realizing he was outnumbered and that Damien could walk through those doors at any second, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, muttering curses under his breath.
Sofia let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her legs felt like jelly. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the music. "Thank you for stopping him."
The man turned to her, his expression softening instantly. He gave her a small, respectful bow. "It was my pleasure. No woman should be cornered like that." He extended a hand toward her. "I am Alpha Alexander of the Silver Moon Pack."
Sofia hesitated, then reached out and shook his hand. The touch was different—not possessive like Damien’s or slimy like Zach’s. It was just... kind. "I’m Sofia," she said.
Alexander’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. He took in the erald dress that hugged her full, rounded hips and ample curves, then his gaze drifted to her pretty face. He looked genuinely puzzled.
"Sofia," he repeated, the na sounding gentle on his tongue. "Forgive my bluntness, but how could a charming, beautiful girl like you be a slave? You don’t look like a criminal, and you certainly don’t look like soone who belongs in a cage."
Sofia looked down at her cider, her thumb tracing the rim of the glass. "It’s a long story," she murmured. "A very long, very painful story."
"Well," Alexander said, stepping back just enough to give her space while still shielding her from the leering eyes of the other n. "I have always been a fan of long stories."
Sofia scoffed and took a sip of her drink but didn’t say a word. She wasn’t in the mood to speak about her life, especially to a stranger she had just t a few minutes ago; for all she knew, he might be a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Alexander continued, wanting to make conversation with her. "How long have you been Damien’s slave?" he asked out of curiosity.
Sofia still didn’t answer, still feeling that if she ignored him, he would take that as a clue and let her be. Alexander didn’t seem offended by her cold shoulder; if anything, her defiance seed to intrigue him more than the mindless flattery of the other won in the room.
Alexander smiled, a genuine expression that reached his eyes. "I don’t bite..." His words hung on his lips when he looked in a certain direction.
Sofia followed his gaze toward the private eting room doors that had just opened.
Damien stepped out, his face etched with a heavy frown from whatever political battle he had just fought. His eyes imdiately scanned the ballroom, ignoring the most powerful n in the world as he hunted for one specific head of blonde hair. When his gaze landed on Sofia—and then shifted to the tall, handso Alpha Alexander standing comfortably beside her—the temperature in the room seed to drop ten degrees.
Damien’s stride was predatory as he cut through the crowd, his boots thudding rhythmically on the marble. He didn’t stop until he was inches from Alexander, his chest nearly brushing the other man’s.
"Alexander," Damien hissed, his green eyes glowing with a lethal intensity. "I don’t rember giving you permission to talk to my slave."
Alexander didn’t flinch. He remained calm, offering a slight, respectful nod. "I was rely ensuring she was safe."
Damien’s gaze snapped to Sofia, his eyes raking over her curvy figure and the erald dress, looking for any sign that she had been touched. When he saw her flushed face and the way she was clutching her glass, his hand shot out, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her roughly against his side. The movent was so sudden that Sofia’s full hips bumped hard against his thigh.
"We’re leaving," Damien barked, his fingers digging possessively into her skin.
"Damien, wait!" Alpha Jas called out, stepping in front of them. A few other Alphas stood nearby, watching with interest. "The night isn’t over yet. We’re heading upstairs for the traditional ga. You can’t leave now. It would be rude to ."
"I’m tired, Jas," Damien snapped, his jaw tight. "And my slave has had enough of this place."
Jas smiled like he knew sothing Damien didn’t. "Don’t be like that. Leaving before the main event is disrespectful. Join us. Unless the great Alpha Damien is afraid of losing in front of his... prized possession."
A low growl rumbled from Damien’s chest. The sound made people nearby step back. He knew Jas was trying to provoke him, but Damien couldn’t walk away from a challenge, not in front of other Alphas.
"Fine," Damien said sharply.
He pulled Sofia forward and marched toward the private elevators. His grip hurt, and Sofia’s frown deepened. She wanted to say sothing, but the enraged look in Damien’s eyes stopped her.
Reaching the private room, Sofia froze at the entrance. The room was filled with the heavy, musky scent of dominant males. Around the table sat nine n, including the leering Alpha Zach and the composed Alpha Alexander. It was a scene of raw power: the n sat in plush leather chairs, while their won—mates, lovers, or slaves—stood like silent statues behind them.
"Take your seat, Damien," Zach challenged, leaning back and gesturing to the empty chair between himself and Alexander.
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