ALPHA THORNE: Claimed by the Billionaire Beast

Name: ALPHA THORNE: Claimed by the Billionaire Beast
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Babechris

Werewolf | Ongoing

5.0

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I called him arrogant. He called me his. Now I'm locked away in his world, and he refuses to let me go. All I did was challenge my insufferable billionaire boss during a board meeting. I never expected to be fired. I definitely didn't expect to wake up kidnapped in a remote mansion guarded like a fortress... by wolves. Damian Thorne, CEO, predator in a suit, and Alpha of the most powerful shifter pack on the East Coast, says I'm his fated mate. He claims I triggered something ancient the moment I stood up to him-that his wolf recognized mine. The only problem? I'm not a wolf. I'm not anything. Just human... or so I thought. Damian says I belong to him now. His rules. His world. His pack. But I didn't survive the corporate jungle to roll over for some possessive alpha with golden eyes and a dangerous smile. Still, no matter how hard I fight, I can't deny this bond that grows stronger every day. I should hate him, but when he touches me, my body betrays me. When danger strikes, I find myself running toward him... not away. And when a rival Alpha declares war, I'll have to choose: my old life of freedom... or a future where I might burn the world just to keep him safe. He took me. Now the question is-will I take him back?

R18+ Modern Fantasy Attractive Alpha Arrogant/Dominant Romance Billionaires Werewolf Personal growth

Chapter 9 An Escape

05-29 05:42

Chapter 1 The Meeting

Evelyn

As I sat in the sleek, modern boardroom, surrounded by polished executives and the soft hum of technology, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. It was the first rule of survival in this company-blend in, keep your head down, and never draw the attention of Damian Thorne. Especially not in a board meeting.

But that rule flew out the window the moment I heard him speak. "Effective immediately, we'll be closing down five regional branches," Damian said, his voice smooth and sharp as obsidian, cutting through the silence like a knife. "The quarterly data shows consistent underperformance. There's no justification for keeping them open."

I stared at the screen in front of me, at the neatly brutal line of red slashes through rows of numbers. The words on the slide blurred as my mind reeled with the implications.

Underperformance? Try underfunded, understaffed, and ignored.

Dozens of people would lose their jobs. People I worked with. People who stayed late and showed up early and made it all run like clockwork. And now all gone. Just like that. Like pawns being wiped off a board by a man who didn't even blink.

I looked around the room, hoping someone, anyone, would speak up. But the silence was oppressive. All twelve board members in their tailored suits nodded politely, strategically, their faces a mask of calm calculation. Mr. Jennings, my boss, sat two seats away, and I could practically feel him vibrating with discomfort. No one said a thing.

My stomach twisted. My chest buzzed with anger. And before I could stop myself, I opened my mouth. "With respect, Mr. Thorne," I said, my voice cutting through the silence like a bell, "I don't think that's the right call."

The room fell silent, making me swallow hard. Twelve heads turned to look at me, their faces a mix of shock and curiosity. Damian's was the last, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch. I should've shrunk in my chair. I should've apologized. Instead, I sat up straighter, my shoulders squaring.

"The data doesn't support full closures," I continued, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Yes, they're underperforming compared to the flagship, but if you look at regional growth potential and the operational setbacks they've had to endure-especially with last quarter's restructuring-this decision seems... premature."

There. I'd said it. In front of everyone. In front of him. Damian Thorne leaned back slowly in his seat, like a king watching a servant forget their place. His eyes never left mine, and I felt like I was drowning in their golden depths. Golden. Not brown. Not hazel. Gold. There was something unreal about them-too sharp, too knowing. It was like being stared at by something that had no business being human.

"Name," he said simply, his voice low and smooth.

"Evelyn Carter," I replied, my voice firm. "Executive assistant to Mr. Jennings."

"Ah." He said it like it explained everything. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he was amused. But it didn't reach his eyes.

"Tell me, Ms. Carter," he said, his voice slow, calculated. "What qualifies an assistant to challenge a strategic executive decision in this setting?"

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest. But I wasn't backing down. "Nothing. Except that I've been on the ground floor of this company for the last three years," I said, my voice steady. "I know those people. I know those numbers. And I know that this,'' I gestured at the screen, "--is the lazy way out."

A sharp inhale from somewhere near the end of the table. Mr. Jennings flinched beside me like I'd slapped God. Damian stood, his movements fluid and deliberate. The room froze with him.

He walked slowly, deliberately, around the length of the table until he stood just behind my chair. My skin prickled. My pulse roared in my ears. He didn't touch me. Didn't raise his voice, but the air shifted.

"Evelyn Carter, you're fired," he said, calm and final. There was a beat of silence. "I beg your pardon?" I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You no longer work here," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Security will collect your badge and escort you out."

"Because I spoke up?" I asked, my voice rising.

"Because you forgot your place," he replied, his voice cold.

I stood, my fists clenched at my sides. "I didn't forget anything," I said, my voice firm. "I know exactly where I stand.'' The faces of the board members blurred together in a sea of shock and curiosity. Damian's eyes, however, remained fixed on mine, their golden intensity burning brighter with every passing moment. "You're making a mistake,"My voice steady despite the turmoil brewing inside me.

Damian's expression didn't change, but a flicker of amusement danced in his eyes. "I don't make mistakes, Ms. Carter," he said, his voice dripping with confidence. "I make decisions. And right now, that decision is to have you escorted out of the building.

The security guard stepped forward, his presence a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. I felt a surge of anger and frustration, but I kept my head held high as I gathered my belongings and followed the guard out of the boardroom.

The walk to the elevator was a blur, the curious glances of my coworkers piercing through me like daggers. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, refusing to let them see the tears welling up in my eyes.

As the elevator doors closed behind me, I let out a deep breath, the silence enveloping me like a shroud. I felt numb, disconnected from the world around me. But as soon as I stepped out onto the street, the city slapped me back to reality. The bright lights, the cacophony of sounds, the chill of the evening air – it all hit me like a ton of bricks.

I stood there, holding a box with a desk plant and three mismatched mugs, feeling like I'd been punched in the gut. The fury, the shame, the confusion. It all swirled together in a toxic mix that threatened to consume me.

How could he do that? How could I let it happen? I'd worked too hard to be reduced to nothing in a five-minute standoff with a man who thought he owned the world.

And God help me, that was what terrified me the most. Not the firing. Not the humiliation. But the way his voice still echoed in my mind. The way his eyes had looked straight through me. The way something inside me had responded. Like it recognized him. And that was impossible.

Hours later, I was in my tiny apartment, the blinds drawn, and my second glass of wine in hand. The city skyline blinked in the distance, but my mind was still stuck in that boardroom. In those last few seconds. You're fired. Because you forgot your place.

I didn't even know where my place was anymore.

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Probably my best friend Layla demanding answers, or Jennings trying to cover his own ass. I didn't want apologies. I wanted answers. I wanted to know why Damian Thorne-arrogant, perfect, terrifying Damian-had looked at me like I was something more than just a nuisance. Like I was a problem he couldn't put away in a file drawer. Like I was something he hadn't expected.

And for a second, when his eyes met mine... He looked just as shaken as I felt.

I took another sip of my wine, the bitter taste a fitting match for the emotions swirling inside me. I knew one thing – I wasn't going to let Damian Thorne get away with this without a fight. But for now, I just sat there, lost in the darkness, trying to make sense of it all.