Chapter 4

Alaric's POV

The door to the dungeon slammed shut behind me, but the echo seemed distant, muffled by the storm of thoughts crashing in my head. I could still feel her presence, the lingering scent of her filling my lungs as if I’d been submerged in it. My mate. She was in that cell,MY MATE. And now, nothing was making sense.

The halls of the pack house felt different. They stretched longer, each step feeling heavier. My mind raced back to those moments in the cell. Her wide, fearful eyes, the confusion and guilt that twisted across her face. She was supposed to be an enemy, a murderer, but when I looked at her... all I saw was the other half of my soul. My mate, and she didn’t even know it yet.

Before I could fully process what had just happened, Braylon appeared ahead of me. His expression was tight, controlled, but I could see the unease flickering behind his eyes. He probably already knew something was wrong,he always knew.

“Alpha,” Braylon greeted, stepping aside to let me pass.

I stopped in front of him, my jaw clenched as the words left me in a rush. “Go back to the dungeon.”

Braylon’s face barely flickered, but I could sense the confusion behind his stoic expression. “The girl?”

“Not just the girl. My mate,” I growled. The weight of the word surprised even me. Just saying it out loud grounded me, tied me to her in a way that felt even more solid, more permanent. “Get her out of there. Take her to the room next to mine.”

Braylon blinked. His surprise was subtle, but unmistakable. “The room next to yours?” His voice held a tinge of disbelief. He knew I never allowed anyone on my floor, let alone in the room adjacent to mine. He was too loyal to question me directly, but I could see the question in his eyes.

“Yes. She stays there.” My tone left no room for argument. I didn’t owe him an explanation, not now, not ever. She was my mate, and that was all that mattered.

Braylon hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding sharply. “As you wish, Alpha.” He turned to carry out my orders, but I could feel his unease. She was a prisoner, after all, and prisoners didn’t get special treatment,especially not rooms on my floor.

I pushed the thought from my mind. It didn’t matter. What mattered was Thorne, and the mess this was all spiraling into. I clenched my fists as I strode down the halls toward the pack quarters. Thorne’s son,""the boy I’d just lost"",was gone. It didn’t matter that it was an accident; accidents didn’t change the fact that his child was dead. And now, blood demanded blood. How was I going to explain this to him? That the girl he wanted dead for killing his son was my mate? The mate I couldn’t lose?

Thorne wasn’t the kind of man to listen to reason, not in his grief. But I had to try. I had to protect her.

The tension in my chest grew heavier with each step. The weight of leadership, of responsibility, of everything I had to do to protect my pack,it all rested on my shoulders. And now, there was her. My mate. I couldn’t let anything happen to her.

I found Thorne in the pack quarters, sitting alone in the darkness. The air was thick with grief, the silence hanging between us like a heavy shroud. He didn’t look up when I entered, but I could feel the weight of his sorrow pressing down on me.

“Thorne.” My voice came out harder than I intended, but I couldn’t afford to be soft. Not now. Not with him.

He lifted his head slowly, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. The look on his face nearly undid me. He was broken, devastated, his entire world shattered by the loss of his son. The boy had been his pride, his legacy, and now he was gone. I could only imagine the rage burning just beneath the surface of that sorrow.

“You took my son from me,” Thorne’s voice was a low, dangerous growl. The air in the room thickened with his pain, with his fury.

“I didn’t,” I started, but he cut me off.

“She took my son from me. Your prisoner. Your murderer.”

His words sliced through me, but I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t. I had to keep control, had to find a way to calm him down before this escalated. “It was an accident, Thorne,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “You know that.”

“Accident?” Thorne spat, rising to his feet, his fists clenched at his sides. “My boy is dead, Alaric. An accident doesn’t change that.”

I stayed still, my expression hard, but inside, a war was raging. I wanted to tell him everything, to explain why I couldn’t let her die. But how could I tell him that? How could I look a grieving father in the eye and say that the girl responsible for his son’s death was my mate, and that I couldn’t live without her?

“I understand your pain,” I said instead, trying to keep my voice calm. “I know you want justice,”

“I don’t want justice. I want revenge,” Thorne growled, his voice rising. “I want her blood.”

My jaw clenched, the anger rising in my chest. “You think killing her will bring him back? You think taking her life will make you whole again?”

“I think it’ll make me feel something,” Thorne hissed. “Something other than this emptiness.”

“Thorne, please,” a soft voice interrupted, and Elara, Thorne’s wife, stepped forward from the shadows. Her face was etched with grief, but her eyes held a gentleness that softened the room’s tension. “This won’t bring him back. We know it was an accident.”

“Accident or not,” Thorne snapped, not even turning to face her, “our son is dead.”

Elara stepped closer to him, her hand resting gently on his arm. “He wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want more bloodshed. You know that.”

Thorne shook her off, his face twisting in pain. “You don’t understand, Elara.”

“I do,” she said softly. “But revenge won’t heal this.”

I watched as Thorne’s resolve wavered. For a moment, the weight of his grief seemed to crush him, dragging his shoulders down. But then his anger flared again, and he turned his fiery gaze back to me. “If you won’t give me justice, Alaric, I’ll take it myself.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” I growled, stepping forward, my Alpha presence rolling off me in waves. “I won’t let you take revenge on her. Not while I’m Alpha.”

Thorne’s fists clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually attack me. But Elara stepped between us, her hands held up in surrender.

“We’re leaving,” she said quietly, her eyes pleading with Thorne. “We’re leaving, and we’ll grieve in peace. Please.”

Thorne’s gaze flickered between her and me, his chest heaving with barely contained rage. For a moment, the room was thick with tension, the silence stretching like a taut string ready to snap.

And then, without another word, Thorne turned and stormed out of the room, Elara following closely behind.