Marked by the Alpha, Claimed by his brother

Chapter 2

Smoke filled the air, turning every breath into a struggle. Sloane shoved past panicked pack members, her eyes frantic, her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Screams echoed from every direction, but she could only hear one thing—her own voice.

"Ryland!" she screamed.

Her eyes darted through the chaos, searching for him. The pack hall, once grand and filled with people smiling and staring at her with warmth and admiration, had now become a battlefield. Warriors clashed with the rogues, blood filled the marble-tiled floor like a stream. Bodies lay still, unmoving.

The fire spread fast, flames licked the walls, burning the wooden doors and tables, sending thick plumes of smoke curling toward the ceiling. Heat pressed against her skin.

She had to get out.

No—she had to find Ryland.

Sloane turned sharply, nearly colliding with a woman carrying a whimpering child. She grasped the woman's arm. "Have you seen Ryland?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

The woman's eyes were wide with terror. "I—I don't know!" she stammered before fleeing toward the exit.

A sharp crack split the air as part of the ceiling collapsed. Sloane stumbled backward, shielding her face from the heat. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred with smoke.

Then she heard it. A cry.

Weak and muffled, coming from somewhere beyond the flames. Sloane's chest tightened. She turned toward the sound, her heart seizing when she saw her.

Celeste.

Her stepsister was trapped beneath a fallen wooden beam, her face streaked with tears, her blue dress torn. She clutched at the debris pinning her legs, struggling, her sobs barely audible over the chaos.

Sloane's body moved before her mind could catch up. She dropped to her knees beside Celeste, gripping the beam, muscles straining as she tried to lift it.

"It's okay," she choked out. "I've got you."

Celeste's tear-filled eyes met hers. "Sloane, I—I can't move—"

"You will," Sloane gritted, forcing her fingers under the burning-hot wood, ignoring the pain. She had to get Celeste out. She had to.

The heat pressed against her back, and the smoke got thicker, stealing what little air remained. Sloane gritted her teeth, using every ounce of strength to lift it. It barely budged.

Celeste let out a sob, eyes squeezed shut. "I don't—I don't want to die here."

"You won't," Sloane rasped. "I won't let you."

She adjusted her grip, bracing her feet against the ground, when a burning rafter above them snapped, and before Sloane could react, it came crashing down.

She flinched, expecting impact, expecting pain, but instead, the beam that had trapped Celeste was struck, breaking apart, freeing her.

Celeste gasped, scrambling back, no longer pinned. Sloane exhaled in relief—until she realized she was the one now trapped.

A sharp pain shot through her leg. When she looked down, horror dawned on her. A jagged piece of debris had landed across her lower body, pinning her in place.

No, no, no. Not like this.

Celeste was free. But Sloane—she couldn't move. The fire raged closer, its heat licking at her skin.

Her lungs ached, and her vision blurred.

She was going to die here.

A sob tore from her throat. She'd never reach Ryland. She'd never give birth to their child.

Her baby.

A strangled cry left her lips as she clawed at the debris, her strength fading. Sloane's breath came in shallow gasps, her body trembling violently as she pressed a shaking hand to her stomach.

She barely registered the sound of rushed desperate footsteps, a figure rushed in through the thick smoke, and she saw him. Her heart clenched.

"Ryland…" she choked out. He was here. He would save her.

With what little strength she had left, she lifted her hand weakly, reaching for him.

Ryland's gaze landed on her, his face pale as he took in the sight of her. The blood staining her dress. The wreckage trapping her in place.

His jaw tightened.

For a second, a fleeting second—Sloane thought he was going to come for her.

But then his eyes shifted past her.

To the figure behind her. Celeste.

The tension in his face melted away, his eyes no longer filled with shock or fear. Only relief.

Ryland rushed forward—brushing past Sloane like she was nothing.

Like she didn't exist.

Sloane's breath caught as she watched him drop to his knees in front of Celeste, his hands cupping her face, his touch so gentle, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

"I'm here. I've got you," he murmured. His voice filled with warmth. Love. A love he never had for Sloane.

Her chest ached, the pain worse than the fire surrounding her.

Ryland's hands trembled as he pulled Celeste close. "I won't let anything happen to you," he vowed. "I should have chosen you from the start."

Sloane's throat tightened.

No.

No, this wasn't real. This wasn't happening.

Her lips parted, her voice weak, desperate. "Ryland… please…"

He didn't even glance at her. Didn't acknowledge the mate he'd abandoned, the child they had created together.

Didn't see the way her fingers clawed at the ground, reaching for him, pleading for him.

Instead, he swept Celeste into his arms, holding her like she was his entire world.

Sloane's vision blurred, her strength fading, but she tried one last time, her voice nothing more than a broken whisper.

"Ryland… our baby…"

That made him pause.

For a moment, hope flared in her chest.

Then he looked at her—only briefly, his gaze flickering to the blood that trickled down her legs.

And then—

He turned away.

Sloane's lips trembled, a wrenching sob escaping her as she watched Ryland walk out of the burning hall. Celeste clung to him, holding onto him like he was her salvation.

And Sloane—

Sloane was left to die.