Stolen By The Alpha's Dangerous Brother

Sloane POV

The bell above the door of Sensual Delights chimed cheerfully, a stark, mocking contrast to the dread pooling in my stomach. The brightly lit aisles were lined with violet wands, leather cuffs, and silk restraints. The air smelled of cheap vanilla air freshener and latex, completely overwhelmed by Knox's suffocating scent of thunderstorm and spent gunpowder.

Knox strolled through the aisles with the casual arrogance of an apex predator inspecting a new hunting ground. He stopped by a display, his large, calloused fingers picking up a black silk blindfold. He let the fabric slide through his grip before turning to me, his dark eyes gleaming with a cruel, probing light.

"Is this what you do for him?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking rumble. "Let him blind you to what a pathetic mess he is?"

I bristled, my hands balling into fists at my sides. "You don't know anything about my friendship with Finn."

Knox stepped closer, his massive frame easily trapping me against a shelf of massage oils. "I know he uses you." His gaze dropped to my sensible glasses, then back to my eyes, stripping away my defenses layer by layer. "You have no wolf, no real instincts, yet you act like a stray guarding a master who doesn't even want you." He leaned down, his breath brushing my ear. "Tell me, little one, is that all a wolfless life is? Living for someone else's scraps?"

The words sliced through my chest, hitting the deepest, most agonizing insecurity I harbored. My vision blurred with hot, furious tears. He had taken my ten years of quiet, desperate loyalty and reduced it to a biological defect.

"You're a bastard," I spat, my voice trembling with a rage that felt entirely human but lethal all the same. I spun on my heel and shoved my way out the door, the bell chiming merrily in my wake.

The drive to the Crawford Estate was a battleground of absolute silence. I sat in the passenger seat with my arms crossed tight over my chest, staring rigidly out the window. Knox's amusement had faded into a dangerous, heavy stillness. He intentionally flooded the small cabin of the Shelby with his Alpha aura—a crushing, invisible weight meant to force a wolf into submission.

But I was wolfless. I didn't have an Inner Wolf to bare its neck to him. I felt the heavy air, but the primal urge to submit simply wasn't there. I weaponized my human silence, completely ignoring his overwhelming presence.

We pulled up to a massive stone mansion that sat on a hillside overlooking Asheville. The Crawford Estate. My mind raced, trying to reconcile this with the fear that had been drilled into me. Finn had made it sound like stepping foot anywhere near here was a death sentence. But Asheville itself was neutral ground, a human city where packs maintained a fragile peace for business and necessity. The true danger, I realized, was crossing into the Crimson Fang's exclusive territory outside the city limits, where their word was law. This estate, perched on the edge of the neutral zone, was Crawford land—an ancestral seat in a politically complex region.

I popped the trunk the second the car stopped, dragging my own suitcase out onto the gravel before Knox could even offer a hand.

"Take me to him," I demanded, my voice like cracked ice.

Knox's jaw ticked, but he led the way. We entered a grand foyer that smelled of old wood, polish, and unquestionable power. I followed him up a sweeping staircase and down a long, thickly carpeted corridor lined with portraits of past Alphas, their painted eyes seeming to judge my scentless existence.

We reached the end of the hall. Finn's wing.

"I need an explanation," I said, reaching for the brass handle.

Knox didn't bother knocking. With a careless, forceful shove of his hand, he pushed the heavy oak door wide open, stepping into the room to announce my arrival.

The air inside hit me first—a sickening, chaotic blend of Finn's rain-soaked grass and the sweet, calculating orchid scent of Delilah Corbett.

My blood froze in my veins.

There, in the center of the dim room, Finn had Delilah pressed against the edge of a heavy mahogany desk. His hands were tangled in her hair, their mouths locked in a desperate, hungry kiss that reeked of betrayal. Weeks ago, I had received a string of frantic texts from him, rambling about how the Mating Ceremony had been delayed—some 'political complication.' Delilah, it seemed, had returned to Asheville during the postponement and, like a moth to a flame, found her way back to her favorite source of adoration. The 'dying wolf' who had begged me to fly across the country to help him let go had clearly recovered enough to orchestrate this.

At the sound of the door hitting the wall, they sprang apart. Finn's face drained of color, his eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated panic as they landed on me, then shifted to his Alpha brother.

Delilah, however, didn't even flinch. She took a slow breath, elegantly smoothing down her hair and adjusting the collar of her blouse. Her cold eyes swept over Knox, then settled on me with absolute, chilling disdain.

"Doesn't anyone knock in this Pack?" she asked, her voice perfectly steady.

I stood paralyzed in the doorway, staring at the man I had flown across the country to save, feeling my ten years of blind loyalty turn to ash in my mouth.