54

ALEXANDER

“You won’t kill me,” Isiah said, breathless and shaking.

Sweat drenched his body like he’d stood under a showerhead, soaking through the blood-matted remains of whatever shirt he had left. He looked half dead, thinner, weaker, but still didn’t know how to shut the fuck up. I could do it for him. I would love to, actually. But he’s right. I won’t kill him. Not yet.

No matter how much I want to rip his throat out, he’s still family. And his father once did me a favor I can’t forget. This is my repayment, whether or not the bastard deserves it now.

I’m everything they say I am. A monster. A greedy, selfish, power hungry asshole. But a liar? No. I don’t wear that skin. And this little bastard won’t be the one to make me.

He’s too small to bring me down.

“Tease me a little more and maybe I’ll change my mind.” I let the dagger in my grip skim along the edge of his throat. He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple jumping. When I shifted direction and dragged the tip downward with just enough pressure, he hissed.

A thin line of red bloomed and vanished in a blink as he was already healing. But it did the job. The pain made his whole body twitch.

“What the fuck is in that?” he growled, yanking at the restraints like they’d just come alive.

His eyes turned black, the room thickening with the surge of his wolf pushing through, fighting the slow working poison I’d dosed him with earlier.

“What did you do to me?” His voice trembled, teeth chattering like he was freezing to death in the middle of fire.

I found it all very entertaining.

Leaving him to shudder in his own sweat. I strolled to the chair I had waiting and sank into it. His chains clinked as he fought, over and over, despite already knowing there was no escape. His face flushed red, the sweat coming faster now, soaking through the rest of his filthy clothes.

“See, a good friend of mine, Killian, I’m sure you’ve heard of him, has a very rare gift for poisons,” I said, holding up the small, murky vial. It hadn’t been easy getting my hands on it. I had to promise him a favor in return.

Killian is like the devil in human skin. Owe him once and you’ve practically signed your soul over. And when he finally decides to collect, he’ll make sure you bleed for it.

Still, I needed this. Because this little shit was lasting longer than expected, clinging to the belief I wouldn’t go all the way. That’s the problem with people who don’t fear death. They forget there are worse things.

“This one’s a new brew. Not perfected yet,” I said, rolling the vial between my fingers. “So the effects might be… a little more dramatic than intended. But don’t worry.” I held up the syringe. “The antidote’s right here.”

He jerked forward, eyes wild, desperate to reach it. But the chains kept him exactly where he belonged, on his knees and powerless. I gave the syringe a smug little shake.

“This’ll fix everything. Just a little prick, and it’s like the pain was never there,” I said, tone mock sweet. “Killian’s generous like that. Causes the problem, then hands out the cure like some twisted philanthropist. Isn’t that amazing?”

Isiah glared, jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack.

“You gonna talk?” I asked like we were two friends catching up.

He kept convulsing, still shaking, still defiant. Stubborn little shit. He shook his head, refusing to give in.

I glanced down at my watch. I’d wasted almost thirty minutes in this pit with him. Thirty minutes I could’ve spent with Alina. Instead, I was stuck here trying to break a brat with a martyr complex.

Annoyance lit up my chest like a fuse. I was tempted, truly tempted, to slice a line down his thigh. But I knew the poison would do more damage than I wanted. I didn’t want him dead. Just battered enough to shatter the will holding his mouth shut.

“Well, when you’re done being brave, tell the boys outside,” I said, motioning to the door. “They’re here just for you.”

I stood to leave.

“Alex—” His voice cracked on a groan, pain twisting the word into something ugly.

I turned, fingers snapping automatically as I took him in again. He looked worse than he had minutes ago. Lips cracked and dry. Skin turning pale with a blue tint creeping in like frost.

“Oh. I forgot to mention.” I smiled, genuine this time. “The more your heart works, the worse it gets. Blood makes it spread faster.”

Still nothing. Not a word.

I sighed, reaching for the handle. “Good luck with that. Maybe I’ll be back. Hopefully you’ll still be breathing.”

He wouldn’t die, not from the poison alone. But it’d make him wish he could.

I’d barely opened the door when his voice rang out again, raw and panicked.

“I’ll talk…I’ll talk!!! Please just make it stop! Make it stop!”

His breath hitched, the words tumbling out broken and thick, but I understood him. That’s all that mattered.

“You’ll have to do a lot more than that to convince me,” I said without looking back.

“Please,” he rasped. “I didn’t sell any information. I swear on my mother. Please.”

I turned. “Someone in this place told her. And all signs point to you. So make me believe I’m wrong.”

“I didn’t,” he spat out, trembling harder. “She came to me, yes, but I didn’t tell her shit. I told her I didn’t know anything. That you only let people close to you in on your plans.”

I paused, forehead creasing.

“That’s exactly what you told her?”

“Yes. I swear. I told her you don’t share plans. Please j-just make it stop.”

I stared at him for a moment, jaw tightening, then stepped out and slammed the door behind me.

Fucking hell.

He told her everything… thinking he told her nothing.

He said I had a plan. That I didn’t trust people. That I kept my moves to myself. She’s smart enough to fill in the blanks.

His dumbass mouth just confirmed it for her.

I need to find Claude. Now.