Chapter 6: The Alpha's chosen

Vireya's POV

He didn’t say a word. Just bowed his head and continued drinking from the brook, the cool water slipping through his fingers and onto the earth.

“Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Please talk to me.”

Then finally, without meeting my gaze, he spoke.

“I know you don’t work with him.”

He was only saying that to be done with me. I could feel it, and it hurt more than if he had accused me outright.

“I mean it,” I insisted, my voice rising just a little. “That night, he came to my house. I didn’t ask for any of this. He forced me to come with him… to the pack.”

Zevarion stopped.

Then, slowly, he turned toward me, his eyes searching mine. He reached out, and gently took my hand.

“I know, Vireya,” he said, soft but sure. “You’re not evil.”

The air left my lungs all at once, and I exhaled in relief, my shoulders finally dropping. My heart felt lighter.

But the moment shattered with a scream. A shrill, desperate cry from behind us. Two captives had somehow slipped and were running, wild and panicked into the forest.

I was expecting the soldiers to rush after them, but they didn’t. Instead, Xareth’s men calmly began retying the remaining prisoners, yanking them to their feet, guiding them away from the brook and connecting their chains like nothing had happened.

My hands trembled slightly as I reached into the folds of my robe and pulled out the bread I had tucked away earlier. Without drawing attention, I pressed it into Zevarion’s pocket, hoping no one noticed.

He glanced down, then up at me, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

That smile… it rooted me to the earth, quieted the storm inside me. It made everything, every moment of fear worth it.

Then a soldier stepped forward.

“Get up,” he barked, grabbing the chain tied to Zevarion’s wrists and jerking him upward. Zevarion rose without complaint, his smile lingering as he looked back at me.

I slipped away to the far side of the brook, where it was emptier. No guards stopped me, no eyes followed. Because I rode with Xareth, the soldiers didn’t question my movements. A twisted privilege born from chaos and association.

I crouched behind a large boulder, hidden from view, and peeled off my dirtied clothes. I washed myself quickly. When I finished, I reached for a clean gown I’d found earlier, tucked in the back of Xareth’s carriage.

I slipped into it and returned to the brook to wash my old gown. The water, once so soothing, now rippled with tension. I could feel eyes on me, especially Rhydan’s.

He watched with barely veiled contempt, as if I were poison in flesh. I knew what they all thought, that I was the cursed one, the one who brought doom upon the pack, but I didn’t care, not as long as Zevarion believed me. He was all that mattered now.

I finished washing and spread my gown across a line of flat stones to dry, letting the wind do the rest. That was when I heard it, shouts and gasps echoing from the woods. Xareth had returned.

I looked up and saw him emerging from the trees with two of his men. One carried a large antelope slung over his shoulder.

The other… held two heads. I didn’t need to ask. I knew exactly who they belonged to, the two captives who had run. My blood turned cold.

Xareth strode back to the captives, his expression as casual as if he were delivering fruit.

“I told you not to try anything funny, didn’t I?” he said cheerfully.

“Maybe I won’t decorate my carriage with their skulls after all. No,” he said, tilting his head mockingly. “I’m feeling generous today. Instead… I’ll let you eat them.”

A collective gasp tore through the captives. I covered my mouth, stunned, stomach lurching violently. The soldiers tossed a head into the center of the men’s group, and hurled the second toward the women.

Screams erupted, someone retched, ohers turned away, shaking, sobbing.

Xareth stood amidst the horror, utterly unfazed.

“Anyone else thinking of escaping?” he asked casually.

No one spoke or moved.

“That’s what I thought.” His voice dropped, now cruel and cold. “Because of your little stunt, there will be no food for you tonight. No rest. We walk until tomorrow night. And if any of you lags behind. I’ll gut you myself and feed your meat to my horses.”

Then he turned and walked away, no one dared say a word.

Xareth tied the antelope to the back of one of the carriages, a thick rope cutting into the lifeless creature’s hide. His men had already eaten, of course they had. Their hunger was never in question, as for the rest they weren’t his concern.

I bent down to gather my clothes, still damp from the brook, because I knew we’d be leaving soon. As I walked past the captives, a voice struck me like a slap across the face.

“I hope you’re happy that we’ve been reduced to animals,” someone hissed.

I turned slightly. It was Sine. His face was gaunt, his eyes hollow, yet full of accusation. I didn’t answer.

Another voice rose behind him, sharper, crueler. “Of course she likes it. She’s just like him. If Xareth doesn’t kill me, she will.”

Laughter followed, bitter, exhausted, and edged with fear. I kept walking, but each step felt heavier than the last. Their words clung to me like burrs, sharp and painful.

I tied my wet clothes to the side of the carriage to dry, using the wooden rail to hang the fabric as best I could. Then I climbed back inside.

Xareth was sitting, his posture relaxed, one arm draped along the window edge, fingers tapping lazily against the frame. He glanced at me as I sat.

“You didn’t touch the soup,” he said, eyes flicking to the untouched bowl.

I blinked, realizing he was right. I had given the bread to Zevarion and never returned for the rest.

“I wanted to finish what I was doing before drinking the soup,” I lied, forcing a small smile.

He nodded.

I picked up the bowl. The soup surprisingly fragrant. Spiced with something earthy, rosemary? Thyme? I wasn’t sure. I tasted it carefully. It was good, too good. Comforting in a way it shouldn’t have been.

Xareth watched me eat in silence for a while, then asked, “Are they still calling you names?”

I paused.

He leaned forward slightly. “Do you want me to punish them?”

The way he said it, so casually, as if punishment were a token he could hand out, made my stomach twist.

I took a long breath. “No. I don’t blame them.”

“Even though they’re wrong about you?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“They’re scared. Angry. I understand why they see me the way they do.”

He studied me, then gave a single nod of approval. “I see.”

I set the empty bowl aside, wiping my fingers on the edge a cloth. Then I turned to him, meeting his gaze for the first time with something sharper than curiosity, resolve.

“Why are you nice to me?”

He tilted his head, as if amused.

“Why are you treating me differently from the others?” I asked again. “Why didn’t you kill me that night?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes drifted to the window, to the view outside, the forest thinning into hills, the horizon swallowed by gold and green.

“Because you’re not like the others,” he said at last, voice low. “You intrigue me, Vireya. You’re not afraid like they are. Even now… even after everything, you look at me like you’re searching for something.”

I didn’t speak.

He turned to face me fully. “Besides,” he added, “I don’t want to kill you. I want to understand you.”

“But why?” I asked again, barely above a whisper.

“Don’t you see it?”

I frowned. “See what?”

A slow, confident smile tugged at his lips. “I like you. No, scratch that.” He leaned forward slightly, voice deepening. “I love you.”

My breath caught in my throat. The words hit me like a sudden gust of wind, knocking the air from my lungs. My heart stuttered, picking up speed for reasons I couldn’t grasp. Love? From him?

I blinked, stunned.

His smile didn’t waver. “You’re my destined mate, Vireya. My wolf calls out to you. The moment I saw you, I felt the bond.”

A bond? That would explain the inexplicable pull I’d felt since the moment we met. But… I hadn’t sensed it. Not the way the stories described. No heat rushing through me. No soul-deep certainty.

“I don’t…” I hesitated, my voice trailing off as I searched for the right words. “I didn’t feel a bond.”

His eyes flickered, but he masked it with another smile, this one more charming, a little more dangerous.

“That’s all right. It doesn’t always come at once. Sometimes the wolf hides until the heart is ready.”

I didn't say a word.

“I want to make you my Luna,” he said softly, his voice a velvet blade. “Stand beside me, rule Crimson Dusk at my side. You’re not meant to walk among them, Vireya. You’re meant to stand above them.”