Contracted to the crippled Alpha

The secretary’s voice cut through the quiet hum of the office. “Miss Clara Seren?”

Clara blinked, heart pounding, and stood up. “Yes, that’s me,” she said, her voice steady despite

the nerves swirling in her chest. A bright, hopeful smile tugged at her lips as she smoothed down

her dress. This meeting could be her lifeline. Her coffee shop was sinking fast, and this loan was

the only way to save it.

With a deep breath, she followed the secretary's direction into the inner office. Her heart raced as

she entered the room, her eyes falling on two men sitting at a sleek, polished table.

“Please, take a seat,” the older man said, his voice firm but polite, gesturing to a chair in front of

them.

Clara sat, clutching the file in her hands. She introduced herself with a smile that barely masked

the nervous energy buzzing through her. “Hi, I’m Clara. I’ve brought my proposal for the loan,”

she said, extending the file to the man in front of her.

The man took the file, his eyes skimming over the pages. He paused, raising his coffee mug

slightly. “Seren’s Coffee, huh? This is where I ordered this from,” he remarked, taking a sip.

Clara’s heart leapt. “Really? That’s wonderful! Well, then, you can see why I need this loan—to

keep delivering the best coffee in town,” she added, the excitement in her voice clear.

The man chuckled softly. “Indeed, it’s good coffee. Let’s see what we can do for you.” He

nodded to his colleague, who handed over the loan contract.

“Just sign here... and here,” the man said, but before he could finish, his phone buzzed loudly,

interrupting the flow. With a quick apology, he stood up, pulling his partner along with him, both

men retreating to a corner of the room, murmuring quietly.

Clara barely noticed, her mind too busy racing with excitement. This was it. This was the break

she’d been waiting for. She reached for her pen, eager to seal the deal and get her business back

on its feet. As she flipped open the contract, a murmur from the men behind her broke through her thoughts.

“The Broken Alpha.”

The words hung in the air, unsettling, but Clara shook them off. Probably just business jargon,s he reasoned. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the signature she was about to scrawl on the page. Her hand moved quickly, signing her name with a flourish.

But as she reached the final line, her eyes caught something strange at the bottom of the page.

Her breath hitched.

“Whosoever signs this contract will be bound to the Broken Alpha.”

A chill crept down Clara’s spine, and her fingers trembled as she slowly lowered the pen.

Bound? To the Broken Alpha? What did that even mean? She glanced up, heart pounding in her throat, as the two men continued their hushed conversation, oblivious to the fear creeping over her face.

For a long, agonizing moment, Clara was frozen in her seat, the weight of her decision pressing down on her like a storm cloud ready to burst. Run now or stay and face the unknown consequences of what she had just signed. Her mind raced, torn between fear and curiosity, each second feeling like an eternity.

She swallowed hard, her pulse thrumming in her ears. Was it too late to undo what had just been done?

The door creaked as the men turned back toward her, but all Clara could think was—had she just made the biggest mistake of her life?

A sudden spark of an idea flashed in Clara’s mind. She straightened in her seat, masking her anxiety with a casual smile. “Excuse me, could I please use the restroom?” she asked, her voice steady despite the rising panic.

The older man nodded, but instead of leaving her to go alone, he waved his partner over. “Of course. Please, accompany her,” he said calmly.

Clara’s heart sank. “Oh, no, really, there’s no need. I’ll be fine on my own,” she insisted, trying to sound as casual as possible. But the man was unmoved, his expression firm.

“Five minutes,” he said, turning away.

Her pulse quickened as she walked down the hallway, the man trailing only a few steps behind her. Every step felt heavier than the last, her mind racing with escape plans, each one dismissed as quickly as it came. Should she try to fight him? No, he was too big, too strong. Even if she tried, she wasn’t sure she’d make it out of the building.

They reached the restroom, and the man stopped at the door, giving her a brief nod.

“Five minutes,” he repeated, his voice like a ticking clock in her head.

Clara pushed open the door and slipped inside, her breath coming in quick gasps. The tiny room felt claustrophobic, but her panic wasn’t going to help her now. She paced for a moment, her mind whirling with fear and uncertainty. She had to think fast—time was slipping away.

Suddenly, her eyes locked onto the small, rectangular window above the toilet. It wasn’t large, but it was her only shot. Without hesitating, she grabbed her bag, slinging it across her chest. Her fingers fumbled as she climbed onto the closed toilet, pushing the window open just enough to peer outside.

She bit her lip. “I should be able to squeeze through,” she whispered to herself, determination flooding her veins.

With a deep breath, Clara hoisted herself up, the rough edges of the window scraping against her arms as she wriggled halfway through.

But then—“Argh! I’m stuck,” she hissed, her voice barely audible as she tried to control her rising panic. Her hips had jammed in the narrow space, leaving her half in, half out of the window.

A loud knock pounded on the restroom door. “Ma’am, time’s up,” the man called from the other side.

Clara’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering wildly. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath, her body tense as she struggled to pull herself free. She couldn’t let him find her like this—halfway out of the window, clearly trying to escape. She twisted, pushed, but nothing worked.

The banging grew louder. “Ma’am!” Time was running out. Clara’s mind raced. If she didn’t get free in the next few seconds, it would all be over.

And then she heard it—the unmistakable sound of the doorknob turning.

“F*ck,” Clara whispered through clenched teeth, her voice barely audible, but the urgency in her tone was palpable. She braced her hands against the sides of the narrow window, pushing with all her strength. Her body trembled with effort, her heart hammering in her chest as she twisted and contorted, desperate to get through. Her hips lodged in the frame, and with one final, agonizing push, she heard it—crack.

The sharp sound echoed through the small restroom, and pain exploded in her side. Her hip has broken under the pressure, the snap so loud it drew the immediate attention of the man outside.

“Hey!” he shouted, his voice booming through the door, but it was too late. Clara, wincing in pain, finally wriggled through the window, landing with a thud on the ground outside.

Gasping, she glanced down at her body, her face paling as she saw the unnatural angle of her hip.

Panic swirled in her mind, but before she could fully register the damage, something deep inside her stirred. Her wolf. The primal force within her took over, and she could feel her bones shifting—agonizingly, slowly knitting themselves back into place.

Each snap and grind of bone sent shockwaves of pain through her body, her hands digging into the earth beneath her as she struggled to stay quiet. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she bit down hard, refusing to make a sound. She couldn’t let him find her like this—vulnerable, in the middle of healing.

In what felt like an eternity but was only moments, her hip had realigned, the pain slowly subsiding as her wolf took over. Clara stood shakily, catching her breath, her heart still racing.

She glanced back at the small window she had just escaped through and saw the man’s furious face staring after her.

She smirked, raising her middle finger to him, a silent message of defiance, before turning on her heel and bolting.

Clara ran, her legs moving with a speed she hadn’t tapped into in years. Her wolf powers surged through her veins, her senses sharpening as she leapt over fences, scaled walls, and darted through the narrow alleys between houses.

The night air whipped against her face as her feet pounded the ground, adrenaline propelling her forward. Every fence and gate she cleared pushed her farther away from the office, farther from the men she had unknowingly entangled herself with.

Her breaths came in ragged gasps as she finally skidded to a halt, leaning against the wall of a narrow alley. “Finally,” she exhaled, her chest heaving, eyes scanning her surroundings. She had put enough distance between herself and them. She was safe—for now.

Clara straightened, adjusting her disheveled dress. Her mind began to race again, thoughts swirling around the contract she had signed. What had she agreed to? Who was The Broken Alpha? She had no time to dwell on it.

A sudden, piercing screech shattered the silence. Clara’s blood ran cold as she turned to see the unmistakable silhouette of a powerful motorbike tearing through the alley behind her. The rider’s voice cut through the wind.

“Stop! You’ve already signed the contract!” It was him—the man from the office. He had found her.

Clara’s eyes widened in terror, her pulse spiking as she whipped around and took off again, her legs burning with the effort. She ran harder, her wolf pushing her forward, her speed increasing with every desperate breath.

She didn’t look back, didn’t dare slow down. But the sound of the bike closing in was relentless, and she could feel him gaining on her.

Just as she reached the end of the alley, Clara’s foot caught on a jagged piece of concrete. She stumbled forward, her ankle twisting painfully beneath her as she collapsed onto the street.

Pain shot up her leg, but there was no time to recover. The screeching of tires filled the air as a sleek, black SUV skidded to a halt right in front of her.

The driver’s door flew open, and Clara’s heart nearly stopped.

“Get in,” a low, commanding voice called out. Clara’s head snapped up. In the driver’s seat of the sleek black SUV sat a strikingly handsome man, his dark hair slicked back and wet as if he’d just stepped out of a storm. His well-fitted blue suit clung to his frame, crisp and immaculate despite the chaos around them. He barely looked at her, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, but his presence was magnetic.

“I... I can’t,” Clara stammered, pain lancing through her ankle. “My legs—” She winced, stretching out her hands, desperate for help. Without a word, the man reached out and grasped her wrists firmly, pulling her toward him with surprising ease.

Her body tumbled into the car, landing unceremoniously on his lap. The closeness took her breath away, his warmth seeping through his suit as his arms wrapped around her for support.

“Hang on,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a soft, almost seductive tone. His breath brushed against her ear, sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

But the brief moment of safety shattered when a flash of movement caught the corner of her eye.

The man on the bike had drawn a gun, his face twisted in fury as he aimed directly at them, intent on stopping their escape. “Sh*t,” the man in the SUV muttered under his breath. His grip tightened around Clara just as his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, spotting the impending danger. Without hesitation, he slammed his foot on the accelerator. The tires screeched, and the car lurched forward, the roar of the engine drowning out the sounds of the world around them.

Clara’s heart pounded in her chest, her body pressed tightly against him as the SUV swerved violently. She barely had time to react before a deafening bang echoed in the air—a gunshot.

The bullet shattered the back window, glass exploding in all directions as the car tore around the corner.

The man cursed under his breath, his eyes flashing with determination. He glanced down at Clara, his gaze intense, but there was something else there now—a fierce protectiveness, like a predator guarding its prize.

"Hold on tight," he whispered, his voice suddenly darker, more dangerous. The SUV sped down the narrow street, the man on the bike still in pursuit.

But Clara couldn’t shake the feeling that the danger wasn’t just behind them. It was sitting right next to her, in the arms of the man who had saved her.

Who was he? And more importantly—why did she feel like he already knew exactly who she was?

The question lingered in her mind as the car raced into the night, the darkness closing in around them. Then, without warning, the SUV jerked to a halt. Ahead of them, blocking the road, was another car—its lights blinding. Clara’s breath hitched as she realized they weren’t alone.

“Looks like they’re not done with us yet,” the man muttered, his hand slipping to something hidden beneath his suit jacket. Before Clara could respond, the door beside her swung open.

“Thought you could run, eh?” Clara’s heart stopped as she turned toward the voice. Her eyes widened in disbelief when she saw who had opened the door of the SUV—the same man who had been so kind in the office, the one she had handed her loan proposal to. His face, once friendly and professional, now twisted into something cold and menacing.

“Turn the car around! Please!” Clara shouted, her voice trembling as she clung to the man in the driver’s seat. Her mind raced, every instinct screaming for her to flee, but something in his demeanor had shifted. He no longer moved with urgency. Instead, he calmly stepped out of the SUV, dragging Clara with him as if her pleas meant nothing. “If you want something done right,” he said with icy detachment, “you have to do it yourself.”

His voice sent a chill down Clara’s spine as he dropped her roughly onto the cold, hard ground.

Clara’s confusion deepened, her pulse pounding in her ears as the roar of the motorbike grew louder.