Chapter 6

At midday, Alpha Karl beheld a sight that made his blood boil. Wolfe rode into the archery grounds with Sinclair at his side. But Lois was not with them. No broken captive. No trophy to present. Nothing but failure.

Karl’s fury erupted before words could form. He lunged forward, seized Wolfe by the reins, and yanked him from the saddle as though he were a sack of straw.

“Where is she?” Karl growled, his voice rough as gravel, his fist twisted in the front of Wolfe’s doublet.

Wolfe’s eyes darted wildly, veins bulging at his temples. He wasn’t the one who lost her—that cursed burden belonged to Sinclair—but Karl was unpredictable, and a wrong word could mean death.

Wolfe wheezed, teeth clenched. “Tell him, you knucklehead, before I suffocate!” He snapped at Sinclair, dragging air into his lungs.

Sinclair froze. Sweat pooled at his brow, his heart hammering like a drum about to split. Words clogged in his throat. He swallowed, tried again, and finally stammered: “I…I lost her, my king.”

He whispered the confession low, hoping it might vanish into the air, but Karl’s sharp ears caught every syllable. Fury blazed in the Alpha’s eyes, volcanic, uncontainable.

Karl released Wolfe with a violent shove that hurled him across the ground into the archery board. Wood splintered on impact.

“You what?” Karl’s roar cracked across the field like thunder.

“…lost…her,” Sinclair muttered again, his eyes screwed shut, already seeing himself laid out for the reaper.

Karl’s chest heaved with restrained violence. “You were ordered to bring me a weak woman. A sick one, at that. And you lost her? You—my second in command?” His voice was low and sharp as a blade.

Sinclair’s tongue stumbled over words, incoherent and panicked. “The others fled—I suspected she’d go to the pawn market—took the alleys—saw her with a man—she fought him, threw him down—she…rode with speed I couldn’t match, as if she knew the map of the town by heart. Then she fell. I found blood on the stones. But I searched—through the night, until dawn—and she was gone.”

Karl scoffed, his lip curling in contempt. “A slip of a wench outrides one of my finest men?”

Sinclair bowed his head low, shame pulling at his spine. “I cannot explain it, my king. Only that it happened.”

Karl’s jaw clicked tight. The sound was louder than bones breaking. Sinclair braced, thinking it might be his neck next.

“You know the punishment for incompetence,” Karl said flatly.

“Yes, my king,” Sinclair whispered. “Execution.”

Karl’s glare bore into him. “Knowing this… why did you return?”

For the first time, Sinclair lifted his eyes to meet the Alpha’s. His voice trembled but held a thread of conviction. “Because my duty remains. I came to request aid—detectives to comb Luna town. With their skill, we will find her. I failed once. I will not fail again.”

For a long, tense moment, Karl said nothing. Then, slowly, his gaze softened—not in mercy, but in cold calculation. The boy was far too promising to discard.

“Do as you wish,” Karl commanded at last, his tone sharp as an arrow. “But hear me well—bring her back to me, or next time, not even your spirit will find peace.”

With a fluid motion, Karl snatched a bow, nocked an arrow, and fired. The shaft thudded into the bull’s-eye, dead center. He dropped the bow and strode away, his entourage trailing in his wake, leaving silence thick in the air.

Sunlight poured through tall windows, its rays spilling across Lois’s face. She stirred, lashes fluttering, groaning at the brightness. Her head throbbed; her body ached. She shielded her eyes with a trembling arm.

“Are you awake?” a gentle voice asked.

Lois turned her head. A woman stood nearby, beautiful, her smile warm as she brushed a lock of hair from her face.

Lois bolted upright, panic clawing her chest. “Where am I?” Her voice cracked, frantic, as she struggled to piece together the fragments of memory—falling from the horse, blood, darkness…

Now she lay in a chamber vast and opulent, every corner speaking of wealth and nobility. The bed beneath her was soft, silks heavy and warm. Her throat tightened. Had she been returned to the palace?

The woman raised her hands gently. “Calm yourself. You are safe here.”

Before Lois could respond, a guttural voice cut across the room. “Safe? Only if she does as I say.”

From the shadows, a man emerged. His presence sucked the air from the chamber. Though draped in silks and jewels, his face was grotesque—old, twisted, misshapen. Even diamonds could not disguise the ugliness of his sneer.

The lady flinched at his arrival. He shoved her aside with a bark: “Leave us!” She bowed hastily and slipped out, the door closing behind her.

Lois’s heart thundered. She shrank back against the pillows as the man approached.

“What do you want?” she demanded, her voice trembling but defiant.

The man’s crooked grin deepened, revealing yellowed teeth. “What I want,” he said softly, “is a bargain.”