Chapter 4. How Wicked of the Moon Goddess

NOX’s POV

A voice stirred near my heart, the familiar snarl of my beast. ‘What are you hoping to gain?’ It judged, as it always did. But whatever thoughts churned within, I alone oversaw what was shown to the world.

A slight smirk tugged at my lips as they dragged her away.

She didn’t resist, her submission almost poetic, as if she’d accepted her fate. But then, they all do, eventually, when I'm pulling the strings. The thought should have amused me, but I merely watched with detached interest until she vanished from sight, leaving only her lingering scent.

‘Another one of your sadistic schemes, you narcissistic bastard.' This time, it was my Beta's voice invading my mind. Even as he fought for his life in some poison-induced coma, he still found a way to needle me. Not even toxins could silence his endless nagging.

The scent that permeated the room at the time the coffee was brought wasn't the same as this which meant, my dear captive wasn't the one I was looking for. Even with the cloying stench of blood and the pungent odor of decay bleeding from her, the faintest hint of fresh floral clung to her skin. It was nothing like the earthy, smoky scent of the female assassin.

My gaze drifted from the blood-stained tiles to the main exit. An assassin…

It was too brazen a move to be mere coincidence. Only one man could orchestrate such an infiltration, but this failure didn't seem like his style. Perhaps his subordinates had misinterpreted his instructions, or maybe they were acting on their own accord. Either way, she had failed to kill me.

I sighed. How disappointing.

Were I her master, her failure would have earned her severe consequences.

“What are you onto, brother?” I mused, eyes unfocused on the imposing doors.

It mattered little, though.

The last traces of floral faded, and I groaned.

I could see what the goddess was trying to do. But… I chuckled under my breath.

How wickedly kind of her.

'Was that truly necessary?' Hunter's voice intruded once more. I settled deeper into my throne.

‘Well, no,' I conceded silently, 'but it was undeniably entertaining.'

Had he been physically present, I'm certain he would have hissed in disgust.

Morrigan Thorne, huh… such a blatant lie.

‘You heartless bastard,’ Hunter snarled.

I shut him out, rising abruptly from my seat. A nearby guard stiffened.

What a boring cycle.

“Remove those bloodstains and summon the Pack's physician," I commanded, descending the dais. I don't care if they have to drag him from his bed. Hunter's just as insufferable on death's door as he ever was. Maybe that makes us kindred spirits after all. "And Marcos should report to me once he’s finished." Was my final order before I left the throne room.

In his chambers, Hunter lay motionless. If not for his incessant mental prodding, I might have mistaken him for a corpse. The stubborn fool was proving difficult to be rid of.

"How long do you intend to nap, you imbecile?" I snorted. His chest rose and fell steadily – no other response.

"You realize, the longer you linger in this state, the longer she remains in that cell. Though knowing you..." I turned, “…that’s not what you’d want.” My eyebrow arched. "Or perhaps that's your aim this time?" I pushed the curtains apart, letting the full moon’s rays flood the room with an icy glow.

"One day, Hunter. If you’re not up by then, I’ll kill you myself.”

Footsteps approached, followed by a tentative knock. "Permission to enter, Alpha?"

The physician.

After his examination, he said, "The poison's potency has diminished. It's no longer life-threatening, but has left him severely weakened. Full consciousness may take time, but with his wolf active now, recovery should be swift."

Of course, his wolf was active – if only to torment me further. Mine growled in response.

"Can't you simply beat him back to awareness?" I asked.

The physician blanched. "He lives solely due to his body's rigorous conditioning, Alpha."

So, the assassin had erred. Poison was hardly an effective method against either Hunter or myself. Either the assassin was kept in the dark, or…

Another knock interrupted my musings. "Alpha, it's Marcos."

"Enter."

Brown eyes downcast, he bowed low. "You summoned me, Alpha?"

"Yes." I turned back to the window, my voice deceptively calm. "Where exactly did you apprehend her?"

I heard him shift nervously. "At the border, she was attempting to—"

"Specifics, Marcos," I interrupted, my tone razor-sharp. "Which. Border. Precisely?"

His head dipped lower. "Forgive me, Alpha. She was captured at the Moonveil Pack border."

"Moonveil Pack," I repeated, gaze fixed on the nearly full moon.

Old wounds marred her skin, ones my men hadn’t inflicted. A fugitive, clearly, but from what? And why Moonveil? Then there was that smoldering hatred in her eyes – not directed at me, despite my judgment. No, her loathing had deeper roots.

She'd shown defiance, challenged me, yet something crucial was absent... her wolf. Its presence remained absent, not even a flicker. Even if she had the skill to conceal it, suppressing it to that degree seemed impossible for her.

Maybe I was merely fabricating excuses to indulge my curiosity.

The wind shifted, carrying a fresh, feminine scent into the room. I didn’t need to glance out the window to know who it belonged to.

"Instruct Draven to meet me in my study during the midnight guard shift," I ordered.

"Yes, Alpha." Marcos's footsteps faded swiftly.

The physician gathered his equipment. "I'll return to check on him by morning. He may have regained consciousness by then."

As he turned to leave, I added, hands casually tucked into my pockets, “Tell the young woman in the garden that she can return home. Hunter is doing fine.”

“Of course, Alpha.” With that, he was gone.

I leaned over and slapped the back of my hand across Hunter’s cheek. “Idiot. Out of all the whores you’ve fucked, your stepsister is the only one worried enough to hang around your window.” I hissed, the words cutting.

I was out of his room in no time, but as I turned to go in the direction of my wing, eager to soak in a hot bath, a scent stopped me cold.

Wolfsbane.

I froze, nostrils flaring as I traced the scent. Not enough. It led me away from my wing, down a path I hadn’t intended to walk. I followed it, suppressing my wolf and concealing my own scent.

I could have stopped the guards, had the culprit executed for daring to bring such a substance into the pack house. And yet…

How oddly fascinating that it led directly to our newest prisoner's cell.

I heard the clinking of locks, the creak of cell bars. Her shaky voice, pleading with them to stay back. My muscles tensed as her cries were muffled, but I remained still, the cold wall pressing against my back as I watched them mock her. Watched the fury build in her eyes. I waited, curious to see how brightly that rage might burn.

"You monsters!" She snarled between coughs.

One eye. She'd taken one eye from my guard. An impressive feat, if true. My wolf's growls of protest went ignored. This was a test of her mettle, or maybe it was something else, something far more self-indulgent that kept me rooted in place. That interest only sharpened when her gaze gored through the men and locked onto mine.

One guard leaned in, nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent. "Scrawny little thing," he spat, flecks of saliva striking her face as his partner's grins grew. "Do you know what you've cost us?"

Rage. Pure, unfiltered rage. And in those blazing eyes, if looks could kill, I'd be nothing but ash.

I ignored.

“Go to Hell,” she said, but it came out in a gasp.

Their laughter echoed off stone walls.

I remained still. Maybe too calm. I waited, watched. Bored.

She swung her fist at the closest. He dodged it, chuckling. “We’ll have our fun—though you might not find it as amusing.”

She lashed and clawed and kicked and bucked, roaring … all, she didn't make it easy for them, I’ll give her that. And even at that, she still managed to look me dead in the eyes. Hate. Finally. Same as every woman. Nothing different, nothing special. Maybe I had only thought her to be more. I’ll have to set her free by morning, I hate having pests around.

I should end this—

But just then, a fist slammed into her chest and I saw the air leave her in a whoosh.

She barely had a moment to recover before another grabbed her by the throat, hurling her to the concrete floor. The sickening sound of her arm hitting the ground echoed in my ears, her bones groaning under the assault, fingers splaying in pain.

“Fuck, isn't the wolfsbane working?!”

“I will kill—”

“Shut up!” He struck her. “You should have stayed calm and accepted your fate, instead of struggling, you wench.”

He ripped at the tattered remnants of her clothing, and that’s when I pushed myself off the wall. This is all disappointing. But I hesitated when I felt it—a flicker, a slim sense of her wolf. Or maybe it wasn’t her wolf at all. Maybe it was pure rage or terror or some wild instinct—

There you go.

She grabbed the knife in the boot of the guard and slammed it into his neck.

Blood rained down onto her face, into her mouth as she bellowed her fury, her terror.