Claimed By The Ruthless Lycan Warlord

The fire crackled, casting long, dancing shadows across the campsite. The smell of roasting rabbit filled the air, but Areli had no appetite. She sat wrapped in Curt's jacket, staring into the flames.

Brown sat across from her, his sharp eyes studying her face. The sympathy from earlier was gone, replaced by a calculating intensity.

"Areli," he said, his voice cutting through the quiet. "You said you slipped and fell off the cliff, right?"

Areli nodded, her stomach tightening. "Yes."

Brown leaned forward. "Then why don't you have any scrapes?"

Areli blinked. "What?"

"If you rolled down a rock face," Brown said slowly, enunciating every word, "you'd be scraped up like a side of beef. But your skin, aside from the dirt and the bruises, is smooth. The only injuries you have are impact wounds. Like you were dropped."

The silence was deafening. Areli's heart hammered against her ribs. She had underestimated them. They weren't just muscle; they were trackers. Hunters.

She couldn't tell them the truth. If she said she was pushed, she'd be admitting she was involved in a clan power struggle. They would dump her-or worse, hand her back.

She had to lie. But the truth was too obvious. She needed something bigger.

Areli didn't answer. Instead, she stared at the fire, letting her pupils dilate. She forced her breathing to hitch, then accelerate. Her chest heaved. Her hands began to tremble, violently.

"No," she whispered. "No, no, no..."

Brown frowned. "Areli? I asked you a question."

She didn't hear him. She was somewhere else. She clutched her head, her nails digging into her scalp. A raw, guttural scream tore from her throat.

"It was huge!" she shrieked, her eyes wide and unseeing. "The wings... the claws... it grabbed me! It picked me up and it dropped me!"

Curt was on his feet in an instant. He shoved Brown back. "What the hell are you doing? You're triggering her!"

"I'm asking a simple question!" Brown protested, though he looked rattled.

Areli grabbed Curt's arm, her grip bruising. "Don't let it eat me!" she sobbed, her body shaking uncontrollably. "Please! It was so big! The wind... and then nothing!"

Curt pulled her into his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "It's okay. It's gone. You're safe."

He glared at Brown. "Are you happy now? You gave her a panic attack."

Brown looked stunned. He rubbed the back of his neck, his face flushing with guilt. "I... I didn't know. I'm sorry. I was just doing my job."

Brown muttered an apology, handing her a clean skin blanket. "Here. I'm sorry, little female. I shouldn't have pushed. What you're saying makes sense... the Blackwind Cliff area is a known hunting ground for Wind Drakes. They dive from the clouds, snatch their prey, and leave no tracks. If one of them dropped you mid-flight, it explains everything."

Areli took it with a trembling hand, offering him a weak, watery smile. "It's okay. You were just being careful."

Curt handed her a piece of roasted meat. "Eat. You need your strength."

She took a small bite, chewing mechanically. As she ate, she let her gaze drift over the three men. They were powerful. Disciplined. And they answered to someone called a "Warlord."

That Warlord was the key. If she could get to him, she could use his power to crush Gloria and Eugene.

Suddenly, a strange energy ripple pulsed through the forest. The fire flickered wildly. The hair on Areli's arms stood up.

Doyle materialized out of the darkness, his face grim. He made a sharp, urgent gesture with his hand.

Brown and Curt were instantly on their feet, all traces of relaxation gone.

"Move," Curt ordered, pulling Areli up. "Now."