14: Alpha's Wrath

Gillow's eyes lifted to the moon, cold and unblinking, before returning to the lifeless pig before him.

His thumb and forefinger circled his lips, and a sharp whistle cut through the still night air. Seconds passed, and the surrounding bushes rustled, signaling the arrival of the hunters.

From the shadows emerged a group of about ten — both men and women, towering and muscular, their movements synchronized like wolves on the prowl. At the front of the pack was Karina, her presence commanding but cautious.

She stepped forward, bowing her head in respect, though the weight of the moment hung heavily in the air.

Gillow's voice, like ice, sliced through the silence. “You did not tell me about her blood.”

Karina flinched. “We thought that—”

“We?” Gillow's interruption was immediate, his tone sharp. Karina’s heart hammered in her chest. A secret, one that could unravel everything, weighed heavily on her. She knew Gillow, the Alpha, would never tolerate betrayal—especially not involving Jacob.

She hesitated, her words catching in her throat.

“I mean, I—”

Gillow’s piercing gaze bore into her. “Who else have you been working with?”

“No one.” Karina's response was quick, but the lie tasted bitter.

Gillow’s gaze deepened, his irises shifting to a burning red. “Imagine what will happen if I have to read your mind and discover otherwise.”

Her breath hitched in her chest. “I’m loyal to the pack,” she stammered, trying to steady herself.

“That’s not the question,” he growled, voice low but carrying an undercurrent of danger. “Who else have you been working with?”

Karina’s mind raced, and with a tight gulp, she answered, “Jacob… Jacob Cain.”

A gasp rippled through the group. The air grew thick, heavy with tension. Gillow's eyes flared crimson with fury. The others, sensing the Alpha's wrath, dropped to their knees. Karina trembled, her body folding under the weight of his gaze.

“Sleeping with the enemy,” Gillow muttered under his breath, the words filled with contempt.

“Jacob is not like his father...” Karina's voice quivered, but she was silenced before she could continue.

“Silence!” Gillow’s growl was a command that rattled the bones of everyone present. Karina’s eyes filled with tears, but she said nothing, her body frozen in place.

“Does he know about my mate?” His words hung in the air like a threat.

Karina’s body shook with fear, her mouth dry as she shook her head, knowing full well she was lying.

Gillow’s voice grew colder, his tone a chilling reminder of his power. “Do you know what the punishment is for traitors?”

“Alpha…” Her voice cracked, desperate, but Gillow’s finger silenced her.

He turned to the two men closest to him, his voice low and menacing. “I want her in the silver room.”

A growl rumbled from the men, deep and dangerous. The rest of the group watched in silence, the atmosphere thick with dread. Karina’s heart pounded in her chest as the two men advanced.

She let out a wild cry, a desperate howl echoing through the woods as they gripped her arms and yanked her upright. Her cries of distress tore through the night, but the pack remained unmoving, powerless in the face of the Alpha’s command.

---

Arda reunited with her family at the massive tree where their hunt had begun. Her father stood with a large tortoise in his hands, its limbs sluggishly moving, while Mabel, her sister, carried nothing but a disappointed look.

The sudden, agonized cry of a wolf echoed through the forest, snapping their attention toward the sound. Unease settled between them as they exchanged cautious glances.

“Daddy, let’s go home,” Arda said quickly, eyeing the tortoise. “And congratulations on… that.”

Her father grunted, adjusting his grip on the shell. “Thanks. So where’s your game?”

Mabel’s sharp voice cut in before Arda could answer. “We heard a shot. Was that you?”

Arda hesitated. “No. That wasn’t me. Another hunter fired.”

Her father’s expression darkened, and Mabel’s eyes narrowed. “What?” Mabel asked.

Arda shifted uneasily. “We had a… disagreement about it. I saw the animal first, but he took the shot.”

Mabel stepped closer, her voice tightening. “You talked to him? Arda, who was he?”

“I don’t know. He was up in a tree when he fired,” Arda explained, her voice faltering under their intense stares.

Her father’s jaw clenched. “You mean you didn’t see him coming?”

“No. I didn’t even know he was there until the shot.”

Her father’s grip on the tortoise shifted, his knuckles whitening. “Arda, the kill wasn’t yours,” he said firmly.

Arda dropped her gaze. “I know,” she muttered.

Mabel wasn’t ready to let it go. “And you didn’t think to leave the moment you realized there was someone else?”

Arda shook her head, guilt creeping in. “I didn’t feel threatened. I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” her father interrupted. “You didn’t think. Never expose yourself to a stranger like that again. This isn’t just about fairness in hunting. It’s about safety. Do you understand?”

Arda nodded, her voice small. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

Her father exhaled, his voice softening. “It’s fine. Let’s just get out of here.”

As they turned to leave, Arda froze.

“Shh.”

Her gun was up in an instant, her family instinctively stepping aside. From the undergrowth, a pig emerged, its head turning sharply at the sound of their movement.

Without hesitating, Arda pulled the trigger. The shot echoed, and the pig collapsed.

Mabel and her father spun around, startled, before breaking into wide grins.

“Well,” Arda said, lowering her gun, “I guess we won’t have to go home with just a pet.”

Her father glanced down at the tortoise in his hands and gave a mock scowl. “What’s wrong with a pet?”

Mabel burst out laughing, and even Arda’s father cracked a smile as the tension finally lifted.

LATER

The silver room wasn’t made of silver. In fact, there was nothing silver about it. It was a cold, empty cell—its name a mockery of the elegance the word implied.

Thick wooden bars, reinforced like steel, barricaded the entrance, offering anyone in the corridor a clear view of the prisoner inside. The walls were stained—dark, crusted smears of old blood that told stories of pain and punishment. The floor was bare, cold, and unforgiving.

A wooden bed sat against one wall, rough and splintered, with a lone stool beside it. Near the bed, a latrine—no privacy, no dignity. This wasn’t a place for rehabilitation. It was a place for breaking spirits.

Karina sat hunched on the floor, her back pressed against the cold wall. Heavy black-steel chains coiled around her ankles, extending toward the bed like the limbs of some dark creature, limiting her movement to the confines of the cell.

When Gillow’s shadow fell across the bars, Karina bolted upright, her heart slamming against her ribs.

The Alpha stepped closer, his presence filling the narrow corridor, his crimson eyes gleaming like embers in the dim light. Karina couldn’t stop the tremor that ran through her.

She had failed him. Worse, she had endangered his mate.

Her mind raced, desperately searching for answers. She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Jacob wouldn’t betray Arda’s identity—she was sure of it. Or at least, she had been. Now, doubts clawed at her resolve.

Karina swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Gillow’s gaze. Her lips parted, but no words came. She had nothing to offer—no excuses, no defense.

Instead, she lowered her head, a silent plea for mercy escaping her trembling form.

She prayed Gillow would see reason. She prayed Jacob’s loyalty had been as unshakable as she believed. But most of all, she prayed for Arda’s safety—because if Jacob failed, if Gillow’s mate had truly been exposed, then mercy was the last thing she could expect from the Alpha.

“What I need right now is the truth from you,” Gillow said, his voice low and cutting. “What other dangerous thing have you done apart from sleeping with the enemy? And by dangerous, I mean anything that exposes her identity.”

Karina’s heart pounded. The tattoo program flashed in her mind—the one Arda had insisted on joining. It had seemed harmless then. Now, under Gillow’s piercing gaze, she doubted he would see it that way.

Fear twisted her gut. She shook her head. “No.”

Gillow’s eyes narrowed. “Are you certain?”

“Yes,” she whispered, the word barely escaping her lips.

Gillow shoved the barricade aside, stepping into the cell. Karina instinctively backed away, pressing herself against the wall as though she could disappear into it.

But he didn’t stop. He advanced steadily until the space between them vanished, his towering frame casting her into shadow.

Her breath hitched. Her chest rose and fell rapidly. She felt his presence pressing into her mind, searching—digging deeper.

Panic surged. She clung to the only defense she had—focus. The ocean. The ocean. The beauty of the ocean.

Karina gasped when, in one swift motion, Gillow closed the distance, pinning her against the wall with the sheer force of his body.

“The fact that you’re fighting so hard to focus on the ocean,” he said darkly, “tells me that you’re lying.”

Karina froze.

“I’ll count to three,” he continued, his voice sharp as a blade. “And if you don’t tell me the truth by then, I’ll order your torture.”

“Please…”

“One. Two. Three.”

He didn’t even give her time to think.

“I’ll talk!” she cried desperately, her voice trembling.

“It’s too late,” he hissed, his voice like ice.

He stepped back abruptly, leaving her trembling in the wake of his absence.

“Guards!”

Two men appeared at the barricade, their eyes cold and unreadable.

“Prepare her for torture,” Gillow commanded, his words final as he turned and stormed out of the cell.

Karina’s voice cracked as her pleas filled the corridor, but Gillow didn’t look back.