3

RAEL’S POV

“Witchcraft?” She stuttered, her face going pale instantly, before she started coughing and awkwardly swallowing her saliva.

“Pardon?”

I stepped back, the movement sharp and predatory. I refused to meet her gaze again; those gold eyes were too bright, too haunting for a killer. Don’t get angry, Rael. I told myself, the words a mantra against the heat rising in my gut. She wasn’t worth the energy it took to hate her.

But my heart tightened with a bitter, jagged guilt regardless. When Conan had come to me asking for permission to leave the pack for a few days of “human” fun, I hadn’t hesitated. I never expected the day to end with a cold phone call and the news that his body had been found in the grimy bathroom of a city club.

And I certainly didn’t expect the slip of a woman staring up at me to be the one who ended him.

Something had to have helped her. I looked at her—small, trembling, fragile. Her wolf felt like a flickering candle, way too weak to cause the kind of carnage I’d seen in those crime scene photos. Conan was a warrior. To tear him apart like that… it required something darker. Something forbidden.

Thalia Thorne.

“Yes, Witchcraft,” I answered, my voice a blank, frozen slate.

She blinked, clearly taken aback, her breath coming in ragged hitches. “I—I swear I’m not—”

“Elodie…” I called out, cutting through her lies. I didn’t bother looking at the High Priestess as she stepped out of the line of shadows behind me. “Do the ritual. Strip the truth from her bones.”

Thalia looked like she was about to faint. “Ri..ritual?”

I retreated further into the shadows of the hall, my chin tilted with cold arrogance. Elodie stopped in front of the girl, her long gray hair falling over a face lined with a century of secrets.

“Stay calm, child…” Elodie muttered. Her voice was like dry leaves skittering on stone. She reached out, cupping Thalia’s face with gnarled fingers.

Thalia went rigid. It looked like she’d fallen into a trance, her body paralyzed under the Priestess’s touch. Choked, animalistic sounds escaped her throat as Elodie began to mumble inaudible words—ancient incantations that made the very air in the room vibrate.

No one moved. The Council members sat like statues; no one even dared to breathe the wrong way as we waited for the verdict. My own blood was simmering, the beast inside me scratching at my ribs, demanding justice. Demanding blood.

Finally, Elodie pulled away with a sharp, huffed gasp. She turned to me as Thalia crumpled to the floor, her chains clattering against the stone.

“Well?” I barked.

The old woman bowed her head, her eyes clouded. “Alpha King, she does not have the heritage of a witch… but something foreign hums in her essence. Something old. Something that does not belong to the moon.”

The panel collectively sighed—relief for some, confusion for others. My lips twitched into a sneer. “Ah—so you are not a witch. So what are you, Thalia? What level of abomination might you be?”

The meekness in her eyes flickered out, replaced by a spark of defiance that caught me off guard. She looked up, gasping for air, her face flushed. “I am not an abomination. Not anymore than you are. Are you going to kill me? Huh? Is that all you know how to do?”

A cruel, dark smile tugged at my lips. I leaned down, making sure she felt the suffocating weight of my Alpha presence. “Kill you? Death is a mercy, Thalia. You’ll find no mercy here. You will learn to crave the end, but it will never come.”

I clicked my fingers, the sound echoing like a whip-crack. Guards poured into the hall, weapons at the ready. “Show her to her new room. Let her rot in the cell for as long as she can survive the dark.”

My boots barely touched the floor as I stormed toward my private wing, my steps quick and heavy. The Great Hall was behind me, but the scent of her—lilies and ozone—lingered in my nostrils, aggravating the beast.

Elder Rowan was right behind me, his presence a nagging weight. “Alpha King.”

Anger flared in me, hot and sudden. I could feel the familiar beast roaring inside me. It was a curse—the Blood-Rage of the Kings. It made me lose control. It made me want to rend and kill until the world was red. I had never found a way to tame it. The only way I managed to survive the cycles was by mating, but my power was too much for most. Only Imogen, my most used Omega who doubled as my acting Luna, with her specific lineage, could handle me when I was in this state.

Other girls brought to my chambers either ended up dead or maimed for life, and although Imogen’s body could withstand me some nights, it was still not enough for my beast! The rut always, always left her invalid for days.

Someone cleared their throat in the background, Jeering me from my thoughts.

“What?” I turned on my heels, barely concealing the violent irritation flooding my veins.

“What do you want us to do with the body?” Rowan asked softly.

The body. No longer Conan. My brother. My blood.

Shit.

The grief hit me again, followed immediately by a wave of blinding fury. I wanted to storm back into the cells, rip Thalia’s head off, and watch the life drain from her eyes. I wanted to feel her bones snap—

I was doing it again. Giving in to the bloodlust. My vision started to haze at the edges.

“We’ll sort that out in the morning. I do not want to be disturbed…” A sharp, agonizing pang shot through my lower abdomen. I gritted my teeth, gripping the doorframe so hard the wood groaned.

The expression on Rowan’s face shifted into grim realization. He knew the signs. “Shall I get Imogen?”

I wanted to say no. I wanted to prove I could handle this alone. But the fire in my blood was turning into a physical ache, a pulsing need that threatened to consume my sanity. I needed a vessel for this rage.

“Now,” I growled.

He scurried away, and I stumbled into my room, slamming the door shut. I groaned, my back hitting the wood.

That puny girl. She was the catalyst for all of this. Killing her would have been the easy path, but I wanted her to suffer. I wanted to peel back the layers of her lies. Why had her parents run away from the pack twenty years ago? What were they hiding in the human world? And what was that “essence” Elodie felt?

My length twitched under my robe, pulsing with an aching, aggressive need. I collapsed onto the bed, jaw locked, resisting the urge to touch myself. The beast wanted to hunt. It wanted to claim.

Almost immediately, there was a frantic knock on the door. “Alpha King? Imogen is currently sick. The healers say she is bedridden and cannot… perform her duties.”

My brain short-circuited. Sick? Now? Then it clicked. During the week-long hunt for Thalia, I had ignored the signs of Imogen’s fatigue. I had been too blinded by vengeance to notice my only outlet was failing.

The pressure in my veins felt like it was going to combust. My skin felt too tight for my body. And it was all because of her.

Suddenly, I paused. A dark, twisted thought took root.

This was her fault. The girl who killed my brother was the reason I was spiraling into this maddened rut. It was only right that she be the one to fix it.

“Bring the newest collection to our cell.” I called out, my voice dropping an octave into a guttural command.

The guard on the other side hesitated. “Alpha King… she is an untried wolf. She isn’t even an omega. She won’t survive the night with you.”

The implication was clear: I would break her. I would likely kill her. No one else had the strength to endure the King’s rut. But she didn’t deserve my mercy. I had vowed to avenge Matteo, and I would break her piece by piece until she begged for the blade.

“Now!” I roared, the sound shaking the windowpanes.

I heard the guard scurrying away. I tipped my head back against the pillows, my body trembling with the effort of not touching my aching, throbbing length. I would wait.

Less than five minutes later, the heavy door groaned open. Someone was shoved in with enough force to send them sprawling.

Thalia fell face-first into the plush carpet, coughing and wheezing as she tried to scramble away from the closing door.

My gaze darkened. The sight of her—vulnerable, terrified, yet alive—sent a jolt of pure electricity straight to my groin. I wanted to close the space in a single leap, slam her against the wall, and take her until I forgot my own name.

But I stayed still on the bed, watching her like a wolf watches a trapped rabbit.

Finally, she looked up. Her eyes widened, scanning the opulence of the room before landing on me. She realized we were alone. No guards. No panel. Just the monster and his prey.

“Come here…” I growled, the vibration of my voice echoing in the silent room.

Her face blanched. She scrambled backward, her hands fumbling for the door handle. The thin straps of her prison gown were barely clinging to her shoulders, exposing the pale, smooth skin of her collarbone.

“Let me out! Let me go!” she screamed, pounding on the wooden door.

The sound of her struggle only made the pulsing in my blood louder. It annoyed me, but it fueled the fire.

“Thalia.”

One word. Laced with the Alpha’s Command.

She froze. Slowly, she turned toward me, her chest heaving with frantic breaths. “What—”

“I am not going to be nice to you. I don’t care about your fear,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Unless you want to be dragged here, you will do as I say. And I assure you, my punishments are far worse than my demands.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. She looked at the floor, then back at me, her spine pressed against the door as if she hoped she could merge with the wood.

“What do you want from me? Just kill me already!…” her voice cracked, the bravado she’d shown in the Great Hall completely gone.

I sat up slowly, the movement calculated and menacing. My next words were a death sentence for her innocence.

“Strip.”