Claimed By My Ex-Fiancé's Alpha Uncle

Annemarie POV:

The silk of my wedding dress whispered against the plush red runner of the hallway. Tomorrow is the wedding I’ve been looking forward to for so long.

But just now, my wedding rehearsal is in progress, my husband disappeared without a trace. In the chaos of the rehearsal site， an unknown number sent me a message.

Not the bridal suite. Second door on the right. Your future is in there.

A cold dread, sharp and sudden, washed over me. It wasn't just nerves. It was a premonition. I hesitated for a heartbeat, the organ music a distant, mocking hum. Then, I changed direction.

The second door on the right was slightly ajar. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I didn't want to look. I had to.

The sounds from within were unmistakable. Wet, rhythmic, punctuated by low groans. My breath hitched. My fingers, already cold, went numb as they curled into a fist.

I pushed the door open just a fraction of an inch.

The first thing I saw was his profile. Clemont. My fiancé. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back in pleasure. My lungs seized, refusing to draw air.

Then my gaze dropped. I saw the tangle of blonde hair, the white dress of a bridesmaid bunched around a familiar waist. Kaylen. My stepsister.

A strangled sound escaped my throat, and I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle it. The world tilted, the ornate wallpaper swimming before my eyes. Betrayal wasn't a strong enough word. This was a violation. A desecration of everything I thought this day meant.

Rage, pure and hot, burned through the shock.

My hand, shaking with a violence I didn't know it possessed, raised my phone. I found the camera icon, my thumb hovering over the record button.

I pressed record.

"...just a little longer." Clemont was panting, his voice thick. "After we're married, the Frost Legacy Holdings trust is as good as mine. Her mother's shares, the estate... everything."

"And what about her?" Kaylen's voice, sickly sweet. "What will you do with your dear, wolfless bride?"

"Annemarie?" He laughed, a cruel, ugly sound. "She's a means to an end. Once I have control, I'll file for bankruptcy, liquidate the assets, and leave her with nothing. She'll be out on the street where she belongs."

The words were like fists, pummeling the air from my lungs.

On the eve of my wedding, my future husband was having an affair with my half-sister, and they even discussed ways to commit murder for money! I will never let these despicable people get their way!

My vision narrowed to the glowing red dot on my phone screen. Every tremor of my hand, every stolen breath, was captured.

Three minutes. An eternity. I saved the file, my chest heaving as if I'd just run a marathon.

I had to get out.

I stepped back, my heel catching on the thick carpet. The sound was a dull scrape, but in the charged silence, it was as loud as a gunshot.

The sounds inside the room stopped.

"Who's there?" Clemont's voice was sharp, alert.

Panic clawed at my throat. I didn't think. I just ran.

I burst through the grand front doors of the estate and into a wall of water. The sky had opened up, a furious, cleansing downpour. The rain was ice-cold, instantly plastering my hair to my scalp and soaking the delicate lace of my dress.

My car was parked near the entrance. I fumbled with the keys, my hands shaking too hard to fit the key in the lock. Finally, it clicked. I threw myself into the driver's seat, slamming the door against the storm.

My hands slipped on the steering wheel as I jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life. I stomped on the gas, the tires screeching on the wet asphalt as I peeled away from the house, away from my life.

The grand estate, my home, shrank in the rearview mirror until it was just a blur of lights in the rain.

The windshield wipers fought a losing battle against the deluge. I was on the winding mountain road that led away from the property, my knuckles white on the wheel.

A sob tore from my chest, raw and ragged. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the rain that dripped from my hair. I slammed my fist against the steering wheel, a sharp pain shooting up my arm. The physical sting was a welcome distraction from the gaping wound in my chest.

I took a sharp turn, my tires hydroplaning for a terrifying second. My headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a scene of utter destruction.

A black SUV was wrapped around a massive oak tree, its front end crumpled like a tin can. Smoke or steam billowed from the mangled hood.

I slammed on the brakes. My car skidded, the tires screaming in protest, and came to a halt just behind the wreck.

For a moment, I just stared, my own problems forgotten. The engine was still smoking. Someone could be hurt. Trapped.

My conscience, the part of me that Clemont and Kaylen hadn't managed to kill, took over. I had to help.

I threw open my door and plunged back into the storm. The wind tore at me, nearly knocking me off my feet. I struggled toward the SUV, my wedding dress now a heavy, sodden weight.

The driver's side door was jammed, twisted into a grotesque shape. I grabbed the handle with both hands and pulled, my muscles screaming. The metal groaned, resisted, then with a final, wrenching shriek, it tore open.

The scent hit me first. Blood, sharp and metallic. And something else. Something primal and intoxicating. Cedarwood and pine, like a deep forest after a storm. It resonated somewhere deep in my soul, a strange, terrifying hum.

A man was slumped over the steering wheel. He was huge, his broad shoulders filling the driver's seat. Blood matted his dark hair and trickled down his temple. I couldn't tell if he was breathing.

I leaned in, reaching for the seatbelt buckle. It was bent, stuck fast. I clawed at it, my manicured nails scraping against the hard plastic. One of them bent back, splitting with a sickening crack of pain.

I cried out, but pressed on, finally hitting the release button with my thumb. The belt snapped away.

Now the hard part. I hooked my arms under his, trying to drag his dead weight out of the car. He was impossibly heavy, a mountain of a man. My feet slipped on the wet asphalt, and I went down, my knees hitting the ground hard.

Pain shot through me, but I ignored it. Gritting my teeth, I heaved again, pulling with every ounce of strength I had. His body slid from the seat, and we tumbled onto the muddy shoulder of the road together.

I scrambled to my feet, my hands searching for a pulse at his neck. The moment my fingertips touched his cold skin, a jolt, like static electricity, shot up my arm. It was sharp, shocking, and made my entire body tingle.

His eyes snapped open.

Before I could scream, before I could even process what was happening, his hand shot out, his blood-slicked fingers clamping around my wrist like a manacle of steel.

He was not unconscious. He was not weak. And I was trapped.