Claimed By The Ruthless Lycan Warlord

"Eloped?" Areli repeated, her voice trembling but loud enough to carry. "Eugene, look me in the eye and say that again!"

Eugene flinched. The sheer coldness in her gaze unsettled him, but he held his ground. "You left with another male!"

Areli laughed, a bitter, broken sound. She took a deep, shaky breath, her fingers gripping the collar of the oversized shirt she was wearing. With calculated precision, she pulled the fabric back just enough to expose her upper chest, collarbone, and the tops of her shoulders-deliberately keeping the lower half of her neck and her back covered to hide any lingering marks from the river.

The crowd gasped. Her skin was a canvas of dark purple and green bruises. These weren't love bites; they were the marks of a violent impact.

"If I eloped for pleasure," Areli cried, tears streaming down her face, "why am I covered in life-threatening bruises? Why did I almost die at the bottom of the Blackwind Cliff? !"

The murmurs shifted. The evidence was undeniable.

Gloria panicked. "You're lying! You slipped while running away!"

"Slipped?" Areli shot back, her voice laced with venom. "You sent me to gather herbs at the cliff edge, and Eugene was the only one with me! Ask him how I 'slipped'!"

Every eye in the square turned to Eugene. He went pale, stammering incoherently.

"He told me he loved me," Areli continued, her voice breaking, "then he watched me fall. Is that your version of loyalty, Gloria?"

The female members of the clan began to whisper, looking at Gloria with disgust.

Gloria lost it. She lunged forward, her hand raised to slap Areli. "Shut up, you lying bitch!"

She never made it.

A wave of crushing pressure slammed into the square. Hudson appeared in front of Areli, moving faster than sight. He caught Gloria's wrist in mid-air.

Snap.

The sound of breaking bone was sickeningly loud. Gloria screamed, collapsing to the ground.

Hudson tossed her aside like garbage. He looked out at the crowd, his eyes promising death to anyone who moved.

"She is under my protection," he declared, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. "Anyone who touches her, dies."

The clan leader scrambled forward, sweating. "Who... who are you?"

Curt stepped up, a smirk on his face. "This is the Warlord of the Whitefang Clan."

The clan leader nearly fainted.

Hudson turned back to Areli. He held out his hand. "You don't need these pathetic people. Come with me to Whitefang. You will have everything."

It was the perfect escape. A ticket out of this hellhole.

Areli looked at his hand. Then she looked at Gloria, writhing on the ground, and Eugene, cowering behind the crowd.

She shook her head.

"No," she said firmly. "I want justice, not just a rescue."

Hudson's hand dropped slightly. "What do you mean?"

"If I leave now, they win the narrative," Areli explained, her gaze never leaving Gloria. "I will stay until I clear my name completely."

A flicker of intense admiration crossed Hudson's face. He slowly lowered his hand.

He turned to the clan leader. "She stays. And if a single hair on her head is harmed, I will raze this clan to the ground."

The leader nodded frantically.

Areli turned her back on the crowd and walked toward her tent. As the flap fell shut behind her, she let out a long breath.

Round one was hers.