Bloodbound to the Witch Heir: Claimed By Four

Luther’s POV

*****

The moment he and the other wolves jumped into the portal—time dilated. His thoughts ran slowly, trailing through different things at a pace that almost made him mentally spiral out of control.

First came the thought of his split with Lysandra. For once... She didn’t try arguing. Or lashing out at him. She just let him step away.

And for the first time in weeks, he felt true freedom.

Then came everything Rebecca had told him back in Asheville.

"You don’t act like someone in love," her voice echoed in his mind, soft and almost concerned. "You act like someone being steered... The question is by what? Or who?"

He would be lying if he said that it didn’t shift his entire brain chemistry. So much so that when they came back to the Crimson Expanse, he started questioning every action he’s made.

Starting from the Lupine mating ball. And his cheating on Celeste—

—Goddess. Just dwelling on that name mentally painted an image that stung his heart.

’As much as I’d love to see how long this... Melancholic thinking would last and what it’d lead to,’ his wolf interrupted his thoughts out of nowhere. ’I think you’re about to—’

"Argh!" Luther grunted, body landing on a hard, sandy surface before rolling by some meters. He gnashed his teeth, head rising hesitantly.

Around him the other participants also struggled to steady themselves—Rebecca being the first to get on her feet. "I don’t recall the other trials having such rough landings when we watched." She mumbled, dusting her uniform. "Bloody hell, what is this place?"

Soon he stood up as well, snapping his neck before spinning it around.

The perimeter was covered with white mist. Even with his advanced sight, he could barely see past ten meters ahead of him. And as for what lay within that zone?

Nothing but earth, dirt and rocky soil.

"Were we even given a name for this place?" Damien huffed. "For all we know it might be a fucking cliff."

"I highly doubt that," Rebecca said almost too confidently. "I have a feeling it might be some kind of... Valley. If we keep walking forward we should find a way out of this mist."

Luther didn’t have anything to say to that.

But Damien did. Of course, the hot-headed Alpha did.

"Then we should pick an Alpha," he stepped forward, a small grin, Luther wished the mist hid, stretching his lips. "I think it’s obvious who’s best to lead."

Rebecca and the guy from Whiteflame exchanged clueless glances.

After a few seconds, Damien harrumphed. "The correct answer is me, of course. I—"

"Ha!" Rebecca faked a laugh first before actually holding her stomach in a fit, bending over. "Gods, he sounded so confident too."

Meanwhile, Luther glanced above them. It was nothing but a cloudy daytime sky, and the air smelled faintly of ammonia and that wetness that came with morning dew.

Aside from all that was the awareness of the entire academy watching them, with Dean Thorne and Luna Queen Janelle judging their every interaction.

Placing wolves from different schools and backgrounds to form a team has to be the biggest trial so far.

"You’re one to laugh," Damien mumbled at Rebecca when she was done. "I have experience running an actual pack. With hundreds of wolves. While looking over the affairs of my council members."

Luther’s jaw tightened.

Time was being wasted on this. Time which was being judged by all watching them.

"Adorable." Rebecca barely flinched, pushing back her silver hair. "Meanwhile, I haven’t heard of an Alpha Damien. Let me guess... North American?"

Tension bristled in the air instantly. A growl left Damien’s throat as he took a step toward Rebecca.

However, the guy from Whiteflame shielded her, expression stoic but eyes colder than the air around them. "Don’t do something foolish, Alpha."

"Then tell her to watch her goddamned mouth!" Damien snapped. "If I can’t be Alpha, who does she suggest then? Herself? What pack has she ruled over?"

The Whiteflame guy was about to lash out when Rebecca placed a hand in front of his chest, shaking her head. "It’s fine," she muttered, all while keeping her sharp blue eyes locked on Damien.

Then, slowly, she angled her head to Luther. "You haven’t said a word since we got here." She whispered, eyeing him. "And you’re an Alpha."

Luther rubbed some fingers on his forehead. "I... Don’t have anything to say."

Damien chuckled. "Dude is still beat after breaking up with Lysandra." He swung an arm over Luther’s shoulders. "There’s plenty of fish in the sea. Besides..." He paused.

A pause long enough to make Luther know he won’t like whatever came out of his mouth next.

"... Maybe," Damien continued still, "it’s not too late to get back together with—"

Luther shifted away from him, fists curling as he withheld the urge to claw out his tongue. "Don’t," he warned. "Don’t even dream about mentioning HER name."

Silence followed.

Heavy.

Even the mist around them seemed to pause, curling lazily at their feet like it was listening.

Rebecca was the first to break it. "Interesting," she murmured.

Damien scoffed. "What is?"

"You," she stated simply, eyes never leaving Luther. "You don’t posture. You don’t beg for control. And yet..." Her gaze flicked briefly to the fog behind him. "...the terrain hasn’t swallowed you."

Luther frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Instead of answering, Rebecca took a step closer. Slowly. "Watch."

She gestured forward. The White Flame male hesitated but followed her lead, moving toward the mist.

The moment he crossed a certain invisible threshold, the fog thickened—rolling inward like a wall. He stopped short, jaw tightening.

Damien tried next, taking one confident stride forward.

The mist surged violently, forcing him back with a low, vibrating hum that rattled through the ground.

"What the hell—?" he snarled.

Luther hadn’t moved through all that. Yet the fog around him thinned.

It parted—not fully, but enough to reveal a narrow path ahead. A direction.

His wolf stirred alertly. ’It’s reacting to you.’

Rebecca exhaled slowly, something like awe flashing across her face before it hardened into resolve. "The valley’s already chosen."

Damien turned sharply. "Chosen who?"

Rebecca met Luther’s eyes. "You."

"No," Luther said immediately. "I didn’t—"

"You didn’t ask," she cut in. "That’s the point."

She stepped aside, nodding toward the opening mist. "Lead us. If this place recognises restraint over ego, then fighting it will only cost us."

The White Flame male inclined his head in agreement. "I’ll follow."

Damien’s jaw worked, pride warring with instinct. Then, with a sharp exhale, he clicked his tongue. "Fine. But if this goes south—"

"I’ll take responsibility," Luther said quietly, taking a step forward.

The mist peeled away completely.

A clear valley stretched before them, winding, treacherous—and waiting.

"This should be fun," Rebecca spoke with excitement, following closely behind Luther.