Reborn: I Chose the Alpha Slave

"Are you sure, little bird?"

His deep voice seemed to travel through the chain between my wrist and his collar, resonating in my bones.

I didn't flinch. I held his dark, intense gaze.

"I don't make mistakes," I said.

"You bitch!" Diana's shriek broke the silence. She stamped one foot, her face contorted with fury. "Guards! Shoot him! Arrest her!"

The two guards exchanged nervous glances. They lowered their stun batons instead of raising them. Nobody wanted to mess with a gladiator who snapped iron with his bare hands.

I turned my back on Rowan and snatched the secondary clipboard from the trembling handler.

"Here," I said, shoving the plastic board hard against Diana's collarbone.

She stumbled back, clutching the paperwork. "What is this?"

"The contract for the mute," I replied, pointing at Kael. "Since you're so desperate for a stray, he's all yours."

Diana threw the clipboard onto the concrete. The plastic shattered, scattering papers across the dirty floor. "I don't want that pathetic runt! I want the champion!"

"Too late. I paid. He's mine." I snapped my fingers at the handler. "Bring me a medical kit. Now."

"You can't do this!" Diana screamed, stepping toward me.

Rowan shifted his imposing frame. He didn't raise a hand, but his sheer size blocked her path. Diana froze, shrinking back from the raw violence radiating from him.

The greasy handler scrambled to a metal cabinet and produced a white plastic box, shoving it into my hands before scurrying away to hide behind his desk.

I popped the latch and pulled out a bottle of iodine and a stack of gauze.

Kael dragged himself closer, coughing weakly. He kept his eyes locked on my hands, waiting for me to kneel beside him. He expected me to coddle him, to wipe the dirt from his cheeks and whisper soft promises.

Instead, I stepped right over his outstretched fingers and moved to Rowan.

"Look down," I ordered the giant.

Rowan complied, tilting his chin.

I poured the dark brown iodine directly onto the raw, bleeding gashes across his massive chest. He didn't blink. He didn't even twitch.

"Does this hurt?" I asked, watching his stoic expression.

"I have felt worse," Rowan replied.

"Hold this," I told him, pressing a thick pad of gauze over a particularly deep cut near his shoulder.

My fingers brushed against his hot, sweat-slicked skin. I let my hand linger there, smearing the mixture of blood and antiseptic across my own palm.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Kael.

In my past life, Kael possessed a crippling fear of germs. He despised dirt, loathed bodily fluids, and threw violent tantrums if I touched him without scrubbing my hands raw first. I used to think it was a trauma response. Later, I learned he just found me repulsive.

I dragged my bloodied fingers along Rowan's collarbone, making a show of the physical contact.

"You heal fast," I said to Rowan, my voice carrying in the quiet room.

Kael's pathetic facade cracked. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked in his cheek. He flinched away from the sight, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the dirty floor. A vicious flare of jealousy burned in his eyes, shattering the innocent-victim act.

He hated seeing me touch someone else. He hated losing control of his favorite pawn.

I dropped the empty iodine bottle onto the floor. It rolled right against Kael's knee.

"You're making a massive mistake, Elara!" Diana yelled. "Father will cut off your accounts for this!"

"Let him try," I said. "He needs my signature to access the trust."

Diana scoffed, crossing her arms. "You think you're so smart. You just wasted two million on a brute who will probably snap your neck in your sleep."

"If he snaps my neck, I won't have to listen to your voice anymore. It's a win-win."

Diana's mouth opened and closed like a fish. She had no comeback for that.

I tugged lightly on the chain connecting me to Rowan.

"Let's go," I told him.

"Where are we going?" Rowan asked, matching my stride.

"Home."

I didn't look back at Diana's screaming or Kael's silent, furious trembling.

Forty minutes after leaving the underground market, my driver navigated the armored SUV through the winding roads leading to my private estate.

The interior of the vehicle smelled of expensive leather and now, copper and sweat.

Rowan sat beside me on the plush seat, his broad frame making the spacious vehicle feel cramped. The short chain forced us close, our thighs nearly touching.

"You bleed on the upholstery, you clean it," I told him.

Rowan turned his head slowly. "You care more about your seats than your investment?"

"My seats don't talk back."

He let out a low sound, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh. "You bought a gladiator, little bird. Not a servant."

"Stop calling me that."

"Calling you what?"

"Little bird." I glared at him. "My name is Elara."

"You look like a bird," Rowan said, his gaze dropping to my pristine white blouse. "Fragile. Easy to crush."

"Try it," I challenged.

Rowan leaned in closer. The metallic scent of his blood filled my nose. "I do not crush things that buy my freedom."

"I didn't buy your freedom. I bought your contract."

"Same thing." He leaned back against the headrest. "For now."

The oak doors of the manor swung open as we approached the entrance.

"Welcome back, Miss Elara," my head butler, Thomas, said. He stopped short, his eyes widening at the towering, bloody man chained to my wrist.

"Wait in the foyer, Thomas," I ordered. "Bring clean clothes for my new guard. Largest size we have."

"Right away, Miss," Thomas stammered, bowing quickly.

I pulled Rowan down the long, dimly lit hallway and into my father's old study.

I locked the mahogany door behind us so no servant could interrupt.

"Sit," I said, pointing to a large leather armchair near the fireplace.

Rowan remained standing. He surveyed the room, his dark eyes scanning the bookshelves, the heavy curtains, and the locked windows. Assessing threats.

"I gave you an order," I reminded him.

"I prefer to stand," Rowan rumbled. He reached up, gripping the torn, blood-soaked remnants of his fighting tunic. "I need to remove this."

"Go ahead."

I turned away from him and walked toward the hidden wall safe behind my father's portrait. I needed to secure the auction transfer deeds immediately.

"You do not fear me," Rowan stated. It wasn't a question.

"Should I?" I asked, keeping my back to him.

"I killed three men in the pit tonight."

"I bought you to kill my enemies," I replied smoothly. "Three is a good start."

"You have many enemies?" Rowan asked.

"More than you can count."

"I can count very high."

"Good. You'll need the math skills."

I spun the heavy brass dial on the safe. The familiar clicks echoed in the quiet room.

Thirty-two. Left to fourteen. Right to fifty.

The heavy steel door popped open.

Behind me, the sound of ripping fabric filled the room as Rowan tore the ruined shirt from his shoulders.

Metal struck hardwood with a sharp clink.

I paused, my hand hovering over the open safe.

"You dropped something," I said, glancing over my shoulder.

Rowan stood bare-chested, his dark eyes unreadable. He made no move to pick up the object near his combat boots.

"It is nothing," he said, his voice dangerously even.

I stepped away from the safe and crouched down near his feet.

A solid-gold crest lay on the polished floor.

I reached out and flipped it over.

A three-headed hound wrapped in thorny vines was engraved deeply into the metal.

The mark of the underworld empire.