Chapter 13 – A Different Mood

                The Council’s prison was a cold, unforgiving pit, merciless to the core and a home for powerful Alphas and Betas who defied justice and paid the price.

                Their presence alone made the air feel heavy with tension.

                It was rarely a place where anyone felt at ease or calm. The walls were rough, the light was dim, and the constant hum of the ventilation system was a dull reminder of how closed-off this world was. Guards walked their rounds, their faces grim, always watching. Inmates usually kept to themselves, or moved with a quiet, simmering anger.

                But today, Alpha Atticus walked through the concrete hallways with a strange lightness. His steps were slow and careful, almost like he was just enjoying the moment. A small, odd smile tugged at his lips.

                This was a very unusual sight for anyone who knew him well.

                Other prisoners, who were also tough, hardened wolves, watched him with a mix of suspicion and confusion. They knew how quickly Atticus could get angry, how his rage could explode in a flash, turning any part of the prison into a dangerous place. Only a few days ago, a simple look from him could cause a big fight.

                His reputation for anger was well known, a heavy weight that kept everyone in the prison on edge. Yet now, he seemed strangely content, almost peaceful. It didn't fit him, and it made the others uneasy.

                From a shadowed corner near the cells, Clarence, Atticus’s most hated rival, watched him silently.

                Clarence was another Alpha from the Silver Bow pack, locked up in this prison, sentenced for butchering a rival pack completely without getting permission from the Council, a huge crime. Clarence’s scarred face usually showed a sneer, a mean look he always wore when he saw Atticus.

                Today, though, he was utterly confusion.

                He leaned against the rough wall, his eyes following Atticus's quiet walk. The man was even humming softly, a simple, almost innocent tune that seemed completely out of place in this dark prison.

                "What in the world happened to him?" Clarence mumbled, nudging the big Gamma next to him with his elbow. The Gamma was filing his nails with a small, sharp piece of metal he’d found.

                "Did they put something in his food? I've never seen him look so calm and grounded, like nothing bothers him."

The Gamma stopped filing and just moved his shoulders.

                "I don't know, man. He's been like this since his Beta visited yesterday. Maybe he got some good news about his appeal. You know, trying to get out early."

                "Early?" Clarence scoffed, shaking his head. "That monster? The Council won't let him out early. Not after what he did. It has to be something else. Something big."

                Whispers quickly spread through the common area.

                People made up different stories to explain Atticus's mood. Some thought he made a secret deal with the Council to get less time. Others guessed he might be going mad, finally breaking under the pressure of the prison. But no one truly knew why he seemed so happy, and the mystery hung in the air, thick and unsettling.

                Hours later, the prison routine changed to the exercise yard.

                The air outside was cold, even though the sun was attempting to break through the clouds. The shrill blast of a guard’s whistle pierced the air, signaling free time. Inmates rushed out, eager for the fresh or at least less stale air and the chance to stretch their legs.

                Clarence, still feeling very curious and suspicious, saw Atticus in a quiet corner.

The man was leaning against a chipped concrete wall, his hands clasped behind his head as he gazed up at the weak sunlight filtering through the high, barred windows. He looked almost peaceful, a truly unsettling sight compared to his usual powerful and dangerous presence.

                Clarence took a steadying breath, trying to push down his rising unease. His instincts screamed at him to stay away, but his curiosity was stronger. He had to know. He started walking slowly towards Atticus, putting on a casual act.

                “Well, well,” he drawled, making his voice rough to hide his real feelings. “What’s got the mighty Alpha Atticus in such a good mood today? Did they finally let you out, or just give you an extra scoop of gruel?”

                Clarence stopped a few feet from Atticus, ready for any sudden move.

                Atticus slowly lowered his head. His eyes, usually cold and planning, now shimmered with something softer, almost amused. He turned to face Clarence with a slow, deliberate smile. It was not his usual angry scowl or a look of disgust. This unsettling smile was private, hinting at a secret joy that made Clarence’s stomach tighten with unease. He had expected anger, a growl, or even a challenge to fight. This calm happiness was far stranger and more frightening.

                "Neither, Clarence," Atticus replied calmly, almost as if they were just having a friendly chat. "It’s simply that the woman I love is doing very well outside. That's what makes me happy."

                Clarence frowned.

                He was truly confused by this. He had never seen this side of Atticus before. This tender, almost soft tone was completely new. Atticus was known for being cruel, for his ruthless planning, for executing future Alpha Axel’s murder with cold precision. Now he was speaking of love as if it were a secret, precious thing. It felt wrong, completely clashing with the harsh, brutal reality of the prison. Clarence couldn't make sense of it.

                Love? This man? What game is he playing?

Without hesitation, and to Clarence’s great astonishment, Atticus shared more of his thoughts. His gaze, still touched with that strange, satisfied gleam, drifted past Clarence, as if looking into a distant future.

                “I’m fighting the Council’s decision to deny my parole,” he said softly but clear. “I’m trying to regain my freedom, even if just for a few weeks, so I can see her again. But it’s a very long road, you know. It could take another two years, maybe even more, before they grant me temporary leave. I need that time so I can get what’s mine.”

                Atticus paused, letting his words sink in. He seemed to watch Clarence's reaction closely, almost studying him.

                "She has just taken on a very big project, you see. A top-tier fashion brand. She is shining. And that makes me very, very happy. I want to be there to watch her doing her best with my own eyes."

                As he spoke, a clever and detailed plan began to form in Atticus’s mind.

                It slowly took shape as he watched his enemy's confused and thoughtful expression. Clarence, the malicious Alpha who only thought about using brute force, was looking at him with a mix of curiosity and a hint of respect he didn't even realize he was showing.

                Atticus’s smile widened just a little.

                He saw a real chance to use this situation, to turn Clarence into a tool for his own twisted goals.

                The prison walls might hold his body, but they would not hold his ambition, or his reach.