Chapter 7

Rowan pov

"You're crazy if you think I'll let you claim me."

Her chest heaved violently against mine, her hazel eyes blazing with a feral, untamed fury.

Her fire did something dangerous to my blood, and I let my lips curve into a dark, genuine smile. She was incredibly amusing, it was a turn on.

"You should know I'll be much crazier if you think I'm letting you go so freely," I murmured, my voice dropping to a low, rumble. "Don't worry. Your family will be duly notified."

She froze, her breathing turning jagged. She was no longer fighting the break against the wall. Seeing the absolute panic flash behind her mask, I released her wrists. I took a slow step back, pushing my left hand casually into the pocket of my slacks.

Freed from my grip, she moved with blinding, assassin-level speed. She did a single, seamless jump over the massive king-sized bed, landing perfectly on the balls of her feet a few steps from the balcony window.

Her eyes were hateful, tracking my every little movement.

"I'll be the crazy one if you think I'll let you hold me captive," she spat.

"Captive?" I laughed, a rich sound that filled the heavy silence of the bedroom. "I didn't intend to do that, little Raven."

"Don't call me that!" she snarled.

"Too bad," I paused, letting my gaze sweep over her sleek, dark tactical gear. "I love the name."

"Fuck you."

Without warning, her arm snapped forward. A lethal, silver dart sliced through the air straight for my throat.

I dodged it seamlessly, the metal burying itself deep into the mahogany doorframe behind me.

"Stop trying to kill me... Fuck." A low scoff escaped my lips.

That dart was only meant to distract me?

I raised a brow as I watched her. She was already halfway out the window, the frigid city wind whipping her red hair wildly around her masked face.

I laughed harder, utterly captivated by her lethal bravery.

"Go on, little Raven," I challenged, taking a slow step toward the bed. "And risk your family and the Hunters knowing exactly who you are. My men outside will make sure of that. Be sure I never make promises I can't keep.”

She stopped dead on the balcony ledge. The threat hit its mark perfectly.

In a blur of motion, she was back inside. With a speed so perfect it rivaled my own Beta's, she launched herself at me. The sheer force of her blow threw me off balance.

My knees hit the edge of the mattress, and I went down, my back hitting the sheets as she straddled my hips. She pinned me hard against the bed, her hands pressing fiercely into my chest.

Leaning in so close I could feel the heat of her frantic breaths, her hazel eyes burned into mine. "I swear, I'll kill you if you touch even a strand of their hair," she hissed.

A heavy, electric jolt of pure pleasure shot straight through the severed mate bond. I stared up at her flushed, furious face, making no effort to throw her off.

"If I die, at least I die with you straddling me, Mate," I whispered, my voice thick with dark promise.

She flinched as if it burned her, realizing exactly what position she had put herself in. She ripped her hands away from my chest and scrambled off the bed, backing against the far wall like a cornered viper.

I sat up slowly, adjusting the cuffs of my shirt. "You know the terms," I stated, the amusement fading into cold authority. "The door is right there. Make your choice."

I didn't look back as I walked to the mahogany door, yanked her silver dart from the wood, and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind me.

The deadbolt slid into place with a heavy thud.

As I walked down the corridor toward the penthouse living area, a strange, nagging thought bothered me.

I pictured her standing at the altar in that elegant, earthy gown. Even hidden behind her cold exterior, she was family to the bride and I could not deny that the fiery red hair and the shape of her eyes looked hauntingly familiar.

I shoved the thought aside as I stepped into the sprawling living room where Marcus Thorne was waiting.

I had summoned him from his VIP suite a few minutes ago. As a high-ranking official of his pack, and the man I heavily suspected of being a top-tier associate of the Hunters, Thorne had no choice but to comply.

He stood up as I entered, flashing a nervous pretentious smile. By now, he absolutely knew I was the Beast of Flames, but he hid it well.

"Alpha Rowan," Thorne greeted, his voice too loud for the quiet room. "An unexpected summons, but I am at your service."

I was not a man of pleasantries.

"Your next response, Marcus, will either kill you or free you," I stated, my tone dropping the temperature of the room by ten degrees. “So sit and choose wisely.”

Thorne was instantly taken aback. He swallowed hard, sinking slowly back into the leather sofa.

I took the armchair opposite him.

Aaron stepped silently from the other wing of the large living room, dropping a thick manila file onto the glass table directly in front of the older man.

Thorne sat and opened it with shaky hands. He raised a pretentious brow as the first photograph came into view. It was Alina, her deep, long black hair and beautiful brown eyes stared back at him.

Without breaking eye contact, I reached into my jacket and placed a dagger onto the glass table. I did it in a slow, menacing manner that made Thorne flinch.

It was a sleek, silver blade, its hilt wrapped in dark, worn leather and etched with jagged runes. The same dagger Viper had pulled on me in the bedroom.

Recognizing it nearly made me kill her on reflex. It was a perfect replica of the blade the Hunters had buried in Alina's heart.

With trembling fingers, Thorne opened the next file. A picture of a ten-year-old girl with bright red hair came into view. Romy.

My breath hitched as a vicious bite of guilt chewed at my chest. I remembered the smoke of that night. I hadn't ordered my men to thoroughly search the house before I burned it down.

And suddenly, I knew where I had seen her before.

The little Raven in my bedroom looked a lot like little Romy. My face twisted as I remembered the dark tattoo sprawling up my mate's neck, and Alina's sweet voice always calling her little sister Raven.

I forced my face into a stony mask, abruptly shoving the connection aside to focus on the sweating man in front of me.

"Why?" I asked simply.

Thorne stared at me, the fear now entirely evident. "I... I... I don't understand who these people are, Alpha..."

Aaron moved with lethal speed, stepping directly behind Thorne and pressing a cold silver blade flush against the man's throat.

his hands shook as terror seized his features.

"I'll not ask you again, Marcus, because you know why I'm asking," I said, leaning forward. "Those people are not news to you."

"Alpha, please! I swear by the goddess, I have no idea what you're talking or asking about!"

"Right?" I smiled, a dark, void thing. "I hate to threaten people with their families. A good Alpha will not do that, don't you agree?"Thorne whimpered.

"Let's hope Zaric doesn't prove otherwise."

Right on cue, the living room door clicked open and Zaric strolled in and shoved an iPad into my hand.

"I bet he swore by the goddess saying he doesn't know." Zaric scoffed. "Well... you can't let him leave now that he knows you're Flames."

I took the iPad. Zaric had hacked into Thorne's encrypted phone and pulled up the exact message he had received by the Hunters during the wedding chaos confirming my identity.

A low smirk crossed my lips as Thorne's eyes turned red with sheer panic.

I stared at him, still locked in Aaron's uncompromising grip. Rage was swelling thick and hot in my chest.

I hated men like this.

"Should I repeat the question?" I asked, eerily calm.

"Alpha, please." Thorne begged.

My gaze shifted to Zaric. "Okay. Kill them all." I let the silence hang for a fraction of a second. "And leave not even their ashes."

Thorne violently thrashed against Aaron's hold, screaming. "No! Stop! Stop! We killed that family because there's one person who had the mark. We can't let anyone with the mark live or the prophecy of doom will fall on us!"

I pursed my lips, holding up a hand to pause Aaron.

"Mark?" I asked.

It was the exact same, cryptic piece of information I had chased for over a decade.

"Oh, so Alina had it?" I asked coldly.

Thorne gasped for air. "If you mean the daughter who wouldn't shift after clocking eighteen, yes. She's the bearer. We found it on her..."

"Chest," I completed, a feral groan tearing from my throat.

I remembered it vividly. Pulling that silver dagger out of her chest as she bled out in my arms.

Her frantic, dying whisper begging me to burn the house down. She wanted to ensure the Pack would never know why her family was slaughtered, to prevent them from labeling her bloodline cursed.

If only I had just gotten there a little earlier, she would have lived. I would have stopped them.

"You know that's not all I need to hear," I gritted out, trying incredibly hard to keep my Ashwing fire from scorching the room.

"I'm afraid I just told you all there is to the story, Alpha," Thorne wheezed. "Killing them was for the good of the Pack and the wolf clan. She's a distr—"

I didn't let him finish. I surged out of my chair with blinding speed, snatching the silver dagger from the glass table and burying it deep into Marcus Thorne's heart.

He choked, his eyes rolling back as he slumped dead against the sofa.

A loud, feral groan ripped through the penthouse, my eyes flashing a furious, glowing red. It was yet another futile dig! They all stopped at that exact statement.

They went to their graves refusing to say more, protecting some hidden truth even at the expense of those they loved.

"I'll have him burned, Alpha, and—" Aaron started.

"No," I snapped, pulling my hand away from the bloody hilt. "This time, have Viper be blamed for his death."

Aaron blinked, shocked. "Alpha?"

I ignored him, my gaze dropping back to the scattered files on the table. I stared down at the picture of little Romy, my mind violently trying to piece it all together.

 The innocent ten-year-old whom I had beaten myself up for losing, the girl I hadn't thoroughly searched for before setting the fire... did she actually survive?

I prayed she had but not without hoping to the Goddess that this violently lethal mate of mine wasn't the little girl my fiancée had so fondly called little Raven.

"You see it too?" Aaron asked quietly, pointing at the childhood photograph. "That arrogant red hair mate of yours is so identical to that picture."

“Get me information on her right from her childhood.”

“Who? How could we do that when she's dead?”

"You know who I am referring to, Aaron," I interrupted, my hands physically shaking now as the adrenaline crashed into dread. "The red-haired woman at the wedding. She can't be too hard to find if she's the family of the bride." I swallowed hard. "I need her name."

Zaric stepped forward, tapping his tablet before pulling up a digital profile. He slid it across the bloody glass table toward me.

"Her name is Romy Waxman," Zaric said quietly. "And she's twenty-three."

I stared at the screen, the hazel eyes practically burning through the glass. It was her. My feisty, bloodthirsty assassin mate was the beloved little sister of my ex.

I stumbled backward, the air completely knocked from my lungs.

"Fuck!" I breathed.

And for the first time in thirteen years, It wasn’t anger burning in my chest.