Chapter Hundred and four: Killing the Alpha

Damien’s POV……

(Years Ago)

I was seven years old when I learned that strength could be a curse.

The night smells like rain and iron. Even now, years later, I remember it too clearly—the way the wind rattled the wooden shutters, the way the hearth fire flickered low, the way my mother’s breathing came in short, terrified gasps.

I was awake because I was always awake.

Because when your house is quiet for too long, you learn that quiet is only the breath before the storm.

My father’s voice cuts through the walls like a blade.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

The sound of something shattering follows. Clay. A bowl. Maybe the cup my mother treasured because it was the only thing her own mother left behind.

Then her voice.

Soft. Pleading.

“Please. Your son is sleeping.”

I press my hands over my ears.

It never helps.

Footsteps thunder across the floorboards. A sharp crack—skin against skin. My mother cries out, and something inside my chest twists so hard I can’t breathe.

My father, the most f