004

∆∆∆

Kael

I light another cigarette even though the one between my fingers hasn’t burned out yet. The smoke curls lazily in the air, soft and bitter, biting the back of my throat. I don’t care. I drag hard, because if I don’t, the silence in this damn office will crawl into my head and stay there.

That woman dared to mention the one thing I’ve spent ten years trying to bury.

Her voice full of mockery echoes in my mind.

“He didn’t even blink before wiping out his maternal pack…”

Stephen’s been standing by the door for five minutes now, pretending to go over the daily reports. I can feel his eyes on me though. He doesn’t say anything until I take another drag, exhale, and mutter under my breath, “That mouth of hers will get her killed someday.”

He shifts uncomfortably before answering, “You shouldn’t have agreed to guard that bitch, sir. Everyone knows Alpha Josen sent you here for a reason.”

I look up at him, my expression unreadable. “You think I don’t know that?”

He shrugs a little, hesitant. “I think you know, but you don’t care.”

I drop the cigarette into the ashtray, lean back in the chair, and stare at the smooth ceiling for a moment. The whole office smells like smoke, dust, and rusted air—like everything else in this godforsaken place. “I don’t care,” I repeat softly, almost to myself. “Not about what he wants, at least.”

Blackridge was never supposed to be my post. I wasn’t meant to rot here playing guard dog to criminals who’d long lost their humanity. I stepped down from Gamma because I was done serving under my younger brother’s orders. But the council made it sound noble—“strategic reassignment,” they called it. They don’t say out loud that the new Alpha feels threatened by his half-brother. That he wants me tucked away somewhere I can’t touch his throne.

I knew it then, yet I agreed to this nonsense.

I rub a hand over my face, eyes half-closed. The chair creaks under me. “He’s scared of the unknown,” I say, my voice low. “That’s why he sent me here.”

Stephen hesitates before speaking again. “Your brother has always—”

“—been weak,” I cut in. “He rules a kingdom built on my father’s fear and my bloodline’s shame.”

Stephen goes quiet after that. Smart man. He’s been with me long enough to know when to shut up.

My mother’s name was barely spoken in Moonshard after the war. A Silvercrest woman, beautiful, gentle, the kind who smiled at everyone, even those who spat at her feet. My father had her locked in the west for years, in the name of ….it was for her safety. We all knew it was because her face reminded him of what he’d done.

She bore him two children—me and my sister, Lysa. And that was her biggest crime.

They called me the illegitimate son of the adulteress…My mother was always disrespected, I decided to grow up to be the son who would protect her from all that.

I take another cigarette, light it, and blow the smoke toward the ceiling. The silence feels heavier now. The room hums faintly, the wards in the walls vibrating like they always do when night deepens. Somewhere in the distance, I can hear a prisoner scream. It’s short-lived. Probably got silenced by a shock magic. Blackridge doesn’t tolerate noise.

Stephen clears his throat quietly. “Sir,” he says, “maybe you should get some rest.”

“Rest,” I repeat with a humorless laugh. “In this place? You’ve gone soft.”

He opens his mouth like he wants to argue, then his radio crackles to life. He turns his head to listen, frowning slightly. “Hold on.” He takes a few steps away, muttering something low. Then he looks back at me, his face pale under the dim light. “Sir… a message came through from Moonshard.”

I freeze. The air in my lungs goes still. “What message?”

He hesitates. “It’s incomplete. The connection was breaking, but—” He holds out the small walkie, static buzzing faintly through it. “It’s from the men you left to watch the main house.”

I snatch it from his hand, turn the volume up. The words come out in fragments, distorted but enough.

“…Moonshard… attacked… north border breached… casualties… Alpha unresponsive… your mother… your sister—forced—marriage—South Territory…”

Then the line dies.

For a few seconds, I don’t move. The cigarette burns out between my fingers, forgotten. My throat tightens. I immediately put the words together in my head, Moonshard was attacked, my sister is forced into marriage with the South Alpha…I grip the walkie tighter until the plastic cracks. Stephen’s saying something, but I barely hear it. The only sound in my head is that static, sharp and endless.

“Get the transport ready,” I say finally, my voice flat but rough. “We’re leaving in ten minutes.”

“Sir—”

“Now, Stephen.”

He looks nervous. “It could be a trap. Moonshard’s walls don’t just get breached. Not without help. Someone might be trying to draw you out.”

“I don’t care,” I snap. “My family’s there. And the fuck is Josen thinking, marrying off my sister to the one man who would go any length to see my head on a tray?”

He steps forward slightly. “And what about her?” he asks carefully. “You remember the orders. She can’t die. She can’t escape. If something happens to that prisoner, it won’t just be your brother you’ll answer to.”

My eyes narrow. “You think I’m afraid of Josen?”

“I think,” Stephen says softly, “you still have too much to lose.”

He’s right, but I won’t admit it. I stand, pushing the chair back. The legs scrape against the floor, the sound harsh. “You’ll keep her locked,” I say. “No one goes near her. If she tries anything, you use the seals.”

He hesitates again but nods. “Understood.”

I grab my jacket from the hook, shove the walkie into my pocket. The corridor outside the office is cold, the air damp and heavy. The lights flicker overhead, buzzing faintly. I pass the guards on duty, each one saluting stiffly.

Ten years. Ten years of keeping that past buried. Ten years of pretending I didn’t destroy my mother’s world just to prove I was worthy of my father’s. And now, the past finds a way to crawl back through the ashes.

I make it to the main gates, and the night air hits me, colder than usual. The trucks are parked under the dim security lights, engines idle. I flick the cigarette away, watching the ember die in the dirt. Stephen jogs up behind me, out of breath.

He opens his mouth to argue, but something cuts him off. A deep, metallic boom sound shakes the ground under our feet. The sound echoes through the prison, rattling the walls, making the lights flicker violently. Then comes the shrill piercing sound of the alarm that tears through your eardrum.

Stephen spins toward the inner blocks. “That came from the south block,” he says, eyes wide. “The containment sector!”

My stomach drops. The south block? That’s where she is.