Claimed By My Billionaire Alpha (Surge of The Pack #5)

Chapter 1

Alison

My hands trembled as I clutched my phone, staring at the screen long after Charlie had hung up. His cruel words echoed in my head, each one a knife twisting to my heart.

"You really thought we had a future? Someone like me with someone like you?"

I blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall. The dingy walls of my studio apartment seemed to close in around me, the peeling paint and water-stained ceiling a stark reminder of everything Charlie had thrown in my face.

"Lowly waitress." "No prospect." "No connections." "Just not good enough."

I tossed my phone onto the threadbare couch and sank down beside it, finally allowing the tears to spill over.

Three years. I'd given that man three years of my life, working double shifts to help pay for his grad school application fees, proofreading his essays late into the night, believing every promise that once he "made it," we'd have a future together.

And all it took was one lucrative job offer for him to decide I wasn't worth keeping around.

A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I remembered how excited I'd been to share my news with him. After years of night classes, scrimping and saving to put myself through school while working full time, I'd finally landed an interview at one of the top financial firms in the city.

"Chelsea is more... suitable," he'd said. "Her father's on the board at my new firm."

The pain in my chest deepened. I hadn't just lost my boyfriend; I'd lost the only person I thought was in my corner. Growing up shuffled between foster homes after my so-called parents lost custody due to neglect, I'd learned early not to count on anyone.

There were nights when I had gone hungry because my parents forgot to feed me after they'd spent all their money on alcohol, and if I cried too much, they'd lock me in the closet, and pretend not to hear my cries until I slept off, my stomach grumbling with hunger.

When I finally got rescued from them by social services, I thought I was free.

I was certain I'd live a better life, but how wrong I was.

At all the homes I found myself in, I soon saw that I, as well as the other kids, were just an avenue for the caretakers to get money from the government that they could live off of.

We were barely fed and barely clothed. Very early in my life, I knew I couldn't rely on anyone anymore and would have to pave my own way into life.

Then, I met Charlie. The wonderful man whose love for me I thought would finally right all the wrongs in life.

Charlie had been the exception—or so I'd thought.

I glanced at the clock. 9:38 PM. My interview was at 10 AM tomorrow, and I need to be sharp, focused. Not heartbroken and hollow.

But tonight, just for tonight, I would allow myself to grieve.

I grabbed my wallet and keys, deciding that if there was ever a night that called for drowning my sorrows, this was it. There was a bar two blocks down, and right now, alcohol was all I cared about.

Three hours and too many whiskey sours later, the room swam pleasantly around me. The sharp edges of Charlie's betrayal had dulled to a manageable ache, one that I could almost convince myself wouldn't be there in the morning.

Almost.

I signaled to the bartender for my check, knowing I needed to get home if I had any hope of being functional for my interview. As I fumbled with my wallet, a large figure stumbled into me, nearly knocking me off my barstool.

"Whoa!" I steadied myself, turning to face whoever had crashed into me.

The air caught in my lungs. Standing—or rather, swaying—before me was easily the most gorgeous man I'd ever seen.

Tall, with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, short black hair slightly tousled, and the most unusual amber eyes I'd ever seen.

His obviously expensive suit was rumpled, the top buttons of his shirt undone.

"So…sorry," he slurred, gripping the bar for support, and one of his arms reached towards me to steady himself. "Didn't see you there."

The moment our skin made contact, it was as though a spark ignited something primal and uncontrollable within me, like I had been set ablaze from the inside out.

A searing hunger surged through me, raw and urgent, and with it came a connection so intense, so immediate, it defied reason.

It wasn't just attraction; it was as if something ancient and unspoken passed between us in that single touch, a recognition that echoed in the deepest part of me.

I had never felt anything like it before.

It was wild and overwhelming, both exhilarating and terrifying in its power.

Panic gripped me, and I instinctively recoiled, pulling away from him as if distance might sever whatever unseen tether had formed between us.

But it clung to me, that strange and haunting bond—its presence lingering like the last note of a song that refused to fade.

Something was off about him. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, in a way that seemed more than just drunk.

"Are you okay?" I found myself asking, concern overriding my initial attraction.

He blinked slowly. "Not particularly." A bitter smile crossed his face. "Been better."

I recognized that smile. It was similar to the one I'd given myself in the mirror earlier before leaving my apartment. Misery loves company, they say, and in that moment, I felt a strange kinship with this beautiful stranger.

"You want to sit down?" I gestured to the empty stool next to me.

He nodded, practically collapsing onto it. "Thanks."

"I'm Alison," I offered, not entirely sure why I was engaging. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just nice not to be alone with my thoughts.

"Lucas," he replied, his voice dropping to a rumble that I felt in my chest.

The bartender approached, eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Water," Lucas managed. "And a room key. Penthouse."

I blinked in surprise. The bar was attached to one of the nicest hotels in the city. The penthouse had to cost more than what I made in a month.

"Fancy place," I commented.

He shrugged, the movement fluid despite his apparent intoxication. "Business trip."

"Must be some business."

His eyes darkened. "Family business. Complicated."

The bartender returned with a glass of water and a key card, which Lucas took with a nod.

I finished my drink, the liquid courage warming my veins. "Well, Lucas with the complicated family business, I should get going."

As I stood, the room tilted dangerously. I grabbed the bar to steady myself, cursing internally. I was drunker than I'd realized.

Lucas frowned, watching me sway. "You okay to get home?"

I waved off his concern. "I'll be fine. It's just a couple of blocks."

"Alone? At this hour?" His frown deepened. "Not safe."

I almost laughed. After the day I'd had, getting mugged would just be the cherry on top.

Lucas stood up, his movements suddenly more controlled than before. "I'll walk you."

"You can barely stand yourself," I pointed out.

He looked down at me, something intense flickering in those amber eyes. "Neither can you."

We stared at each other for a long moment, an unexpected tension crackling between us. I blamed it on the alcohol, on my wounded heart seeking any distraction from the pain. On that lingering sensation from earlier. Whatever it was, I found myself nodding.

"Fine. But just to the lobby. I can get a cab from there."

We made our way through the bar, both of us unsteady but somehow managing to keep each other upright.

Every time he touched me, it felt like zaps of electricity passed through me, and it took great effort on my end to surrender myself to his arms. It just felt right. Like we were made for each other.

The night air was cool on my flushed skin as we stepped outside, Lucas's hand warm at the small of my back. I glanced up at him, finding him already looking at me, his amber eyes clearer now but filled with something I couldn't name.

What was this? What was happening to me?

We didn't make it to a cab.

I'm not sure who moved first—him or me—but suddenly his lips were on mine, hot and demanding. I melted into him, all thoughts of Charlie evaporating like morning mist. Lucas's hands tangled in my hair, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened.

"Room," he growled against my mouth. "Come upstairs."

Warning bells clanged distantly in my head, but the whiskey and heartbreak drowned them out. For one night, I didn't want to be Alison the abandoned, Alison the not-good-enough. I wanted to feel desired, to lose myself in something that wasn't pain.

"Yes," I whispered.

How we got to the penthouse was a blur of luxury I barely registered. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, illuminating the massive bed that dominated the room. Lucas's hands were everywhere, peeling away my clothes with surprising tenderness despite his urgency.

"You're beautiful," he murmured against my neck, sending goosebumps across my skin.

My fingers fumbled with his shirt buttons, desperate to feel his skin against mine. When I finally pushed the fabric from his shoulders, I gasped. His chest was a work of art—sculpted muscle under smooth, tanned skin.

"So are you," I breathed.

He led me to the bed, his lips never once leaving mine, his hands roaming my body with a kind of reverence, like he was searching for a message written in flesh.

When we reached the bed, he lay me down gently, and I found myself in nothing but my underwear, staring up at this perfect specimen of a man, every inch of him igniting fire within me.

The hunger blazing in my eyes was met with equal urgency in his own.