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2025-10-16 08:20:00Third person POV
The acrid stench of burning flesh clung to the air like an invisible suffocating veil. The underground chamber where Widow and her men had met their gruesome end was now nothing more than a furnace of ash and blood. Killian and Colt stood there amidst the aftermath, their boots coated in streaks of grime, their clothes holding the metallic scent of spilled life.Killian oversaw the task with his usual calm detachment, his eyes sharp and calculating as he directed the guards to haul the corpses into the steel incinerator at the far end of the chamber. The machine roared alive with an angry hiss, orange flames licking hungrily, swallowing one body after another. The crackle of fire consumed everything, and with it, the secrets Widow had taken to her grave.Colt, however, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the flames with a kind of curious fascination. The heat reflected in his eyes, making them gleam with mischief despite the br
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BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 60
Colt's POVI stood at the entrance of the pack house, my hands shoved deep into my pockets, my jaw tight enough to crack. The air carried that faint metallic tang that always clung to the pack grounds after tension—maybe it was just in my head, maybe it was real. Either way, it set my teeth on edge. I’d been standing there long enough for my legs to ache, pacing a few steps here and there, waiting for him. For Rhett.My half-brother. My Alpha. My constant reminder that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I worked, I’d always be measured against him and found wanting.When I finally saw him coming up the path, his stride steady, that air of authority rolling off him like it was his damn birthright, my chest tightened. Everyone else might bow their heads when Rhett approached, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.He caught sight of me, his brows pulling together faintly. “Colt,” he greeted, his tone flat, almost dismissive, like he was already bracing f
BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 59
Rhett's POVI pushed open the heavy door of the ward they’d transferred Nikolai into, the sterile scent of antiseptic greeting me like an unwelcome cloak. My boots thudded softly against the polished tiles, each step echoing louder than I intended, betraying the storm that still swirled inside me. My chest tightened as I saw him propped up on the hospital bed, IV lines dripping steadily into his arm, his complexion pale but his eyes alert the moment they landed on me.“Alpha,” he began, voice low and shaky, but I lifted my hand sharply, cutting him off before he could go further.“Don’t,” I said, my tone firmer than I intended. “None of that formality crap. Not now. Not here. Just… stay quiet about respect, Nikolai. You don’t need to force yourself.”His mouth pressed into a thin line, hesitation flickering across his features. For a second, I thought he might argue, but instead his eyes lowered, and he nodded faintly. I hated the distance that th
BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 58
Killan's POVThe hallway outside the special ward was colder than the rest of the hospital. Maybe it was the nerves crawling up my spine, or maybe it was because Nikolai was in there. The man’s presence could chill the air without saying a damn word. I had gone in, bowed respectfully, and given him the message that Rhett was on his way. He had simply nodded, those calculating eyes giving nothing away. I didn’t linger. You didn’t linger around Nikolai unless you wanted him to start asking questions you weren’t ready to answer.So I excused myself, telling him I’d be back when Alpha Rhett arrived, and made my way out of the hospital. The antiseptic stench clung to me even as I stepped into the open air, my lungs burning for fresher oxygen. My boots crunched against the gravel as I headed toward the car waiting out front.I didn’t waste time. Rhett had commanded me to handle the company mail, and Colt was already at the pack house. That alone was enough to ma
BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 57
Rhett's POVThe antiseptic smell in the ward was suffocating. I’d been sitting here for hours, and still it clung to my lungs, sharp and sterile, like it wanted to scrub away even the memory of what had happened. My elbows rested on my knees, my hands tangled together so tightly my fingers had gone numb, but I couldn’t make myself relax. Every sound in the room had carved itself into my nerves—the steady beep of the monitor, the hiss of the oxygen, the slow, rhythmic drip of the IV.Declan lay in that bed, his skin pale against the white sheets, his arm tethered to tubes, his body too still. Too quiet. The image of him crumpled on the floor earlier, his breathing shallow, his pulse barely there, wouldn’t leave my head. My chest tightened every time I looked at him.Then, as if he could feel the weight of my eyes burning into him, Declan stirred. His lashes fluttered, hazel eyes flicking open, sharp even through the haze of exhaustion. He shifted slightly,
BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 56
Third person POVThe acrid stench of burning flesh clung to the air like an invisible suffocating veil. The underground chamber where Widow and her men had met their gruesome end was now nothing more than a furnace of ash and blood. Killian and Colt stood there amidst the aftermath, their boots coated in streaks of grime, their clothes holding the metallic scent of spilled life.Killian oversaw the task with his usual calm detachment, his eyes sharp and calculating as he directed the guards to haul the corpses into the steel incinerator at the far end of the chamber. The machine roared alive with an angry hiss, orange flames licking hungrily, swallowing one body after another. The crackle of fire consumed everything, and with it, the secrets Widow had taken to her grave.Colt, however, leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching the flames with a kind of curious fascination. The heat reflected in his eyes, making them gleam with mischief despite the br
BLOODBOUND: The Wolf, The King and The Killer 55
Author's POVThe air in the underground holding room was dense with silence, the kind that weighed on the lungs. Flickering overhead lights cast shadows across the concrete walls, giving the already cold space an eerie sense of timelessness. The silence was broken only by the soft metallic clink of restraints.Widow sat shackled to a steel chair, her once pristine black combat gear now stained with sweat, dried blood, and humiliation. Her face was a canvas of defiance—lips curled into a smirk, one brow slightly raised, as if mocking the people who now had power over her. Her jet-black hair hung in clumps around her face, disheveled but untamed, like her spirit. Around her, her most trusted guards, all five of them, were in equally pitiful conditions, kneeling, bound, and bloodied.They had been dragged from the burning wreckage of the failed hospital assault, humiliated, and detained. Rhett’s men had made no attempt to mask their fury—these weren’t enemies of war, they w
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