Claimed By The Ruthless Lycan Warlord

The wind tore at her clothes, a violent force ripping away any semblance of control. Areli's stomach lurched into her throat as the ground rushed up to meet her. This wasn't a dream. This was a goddamn freefall.

She opened her mouth to scream, but the air was a solid wall, shoving the sound right back down her throat. Her lungs burned. Her eyes watered. Below her, a thick mesh of giant vines appeared, a desperate patch of green against the dark rock.

Instinct took over. She tucked her chin, wrapped her arms around her head, and braced for impact.

The first layer of vines snapped like dry twigs. The second layer slowed her down just enough to keep her from splattering, but the third layer hit her like a freight train. A sickening crack echoed in her chest. Ribs. Definitely ribs.

She slammed into the damp, rotting earth. The impact emptied her lungs completely. Pain, sharp and blinding, exploded through her torso. She coughed, tasting copper. Blood splattered onto the dark soil inches from her face.

Then, the memories hit. Not hers. Someone else's. A woman with the same face, screaming as two figures loomed over her on the cliff edge. A blonde woman with a vicious smile—Gloria. A man with cold eyes—Eugene. The shove. The fall. And beneath that horror, deeper still, the inherited knowledge of this savage world seeped in—a world where females were as rare as gemstones. The Beast Realm's iron law: females ruled, males served. A single female could take multiple mates, building a family around her protection and provision. Harming a female was an unforgivable sin, punished by the entire clan. Matriarchs commanded, and even the strongest warrior bent his knee. Because without females, there was no future. Areli's original self had known this bone-deep, and now so did she.

Areli gasped, her fingers digging into the mud. She wasn't just a survivor; she was a mark. A target. And if those two thought she was dead, she needed to stay that way for as long as possible.

Heavy footsteps. Not human. The crunch of dead leaves under massive weight. The scent of musk and raw power hit her nostrils.

Move. Now.

Areli grabbed a handful of wet dirt and smeared it across her face, caking her pale skin, hiding the delicate features. She squeezed her eyes shut, slowing her breathing, forcing her racing heart to quiet even as her ribs screamed in protest.

A snort. Hot, fetid breath washed over her neck. Something wet and rough—no, a nose—sniffed her skin. Every muscle in her body locked up. Fear, primal and absolute, sent a violent shudder through her frame.

A blinding flash of light seared through her eyelids. The heavy weight shifted. The sound of bones popping, flesh stretching, and a low groan filled the silence.

When Areli dared to crack one eye open, two massive men stood over her. They wore crude leather armor, muscles bulging beneath the hides. One had hair like