Chapter 3: Dead Weight

- RODERIC

I was doomed.

I began to realize that I was never getting out of this fucking wheelchair. It was like a moving cage.

I clenched the metal rim until my fingers blanched as I dragged myself an inch forward, simply to feel the metal against my skin. My legs were like twigs, useless limbs covered with fancy pants.

It wasn't supposed to happen. Not to a Grand Alpha, especially not to the executioner.

A silver-laced hex, a splinter of blackened bog iron was driven into my spine during that shitshow at the Black Ridge. The healers dubbed it "the Mute's Grip". It not only snapped the bone, but it also decayed the linkage between my mind and my nerves. Most werewolves would have been instantly dead. I was simply left there, waiting for that twitch that would never come.

“Are you even listening, Alpha Roderic?” The voice sounded hoarse.

I looked up. Elder Kieran was leaning over the long oak table, his face turning a dark red. The council chamber was packed with some bitter old men with undying ambition.

“OK, I hear you,” I replied indifferently. “But it's hard not to when you're barking like a stray.”

"Then say something!" Kieran banged his fist on the table. “A Grand Alpha without a Luna is a dead weight. A crippled Grand Alpha without a Luna is a death sentence for the Frostcrown Shadows. If you don't find a mate, if you don't secure the line, then we'll have to talk about succession.”

Leaning back in my chair, I just stared them down. “Succession. “Succession. I mean, you've already got a list of able-bodied puppets on deck.”

“There must be a leader in the pack who can do something on his own, normal feet!” another older man chimed in from the corner.

“Why even bother?" I knew it before I heard it, a growl hard in my chest. "Look at me. I’m half a man. I'm a bust. That hex at Black Ridge made sure I'm never standing on my own two feet again. You think some high-born she-wolf is lining up to spend her life pushing a gimp around a garden? Nobody wants a broken-up blade, Kieran, not for a mate and certainly not for a husband.”

“It is not about wanting!" Kieran snapped. “It’s about duty!”

“Duty will not heal a broken back,” I spat out. “It does not make women look at someone in a wheelchair without having pity in their eyes. I'm not interested in being their charity."

The room erupted. When four different old men began yelling at the same time, their voices sounded like clattering silverware. I ignored them and looked at a knot in the wood of the table. I could feel the biting coldness in my calf, the feel of running through snow, the crack of a branch under a heavy paw.

I felt the weight of a strong hand on my shoulder. Lucas.

My Beta said nothing at all at the beginning. He stood there, as straight as a pine and staunchly supporting me, while the old people wore themselves down. After the yelling had subsided to a simmer, he cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen,” Lucas said, his voice as cool and measured as a professional, but as bored as anything. “This shouting match is as interesting as it is, but the Alpha has a schedule for treatment. He's not going to recover while he's sitting here, getting a headache from you lot.”

“We aren't finished!” Kieran yelled.

“Indeed, you are,” Lucas replied, already moving behind my chair. “Your concerns... will be taken into consideration, but the Alpha needs to go to the water now.”

He wasn't waiting for someone to dispute or oppose him. With a quick motion, he turned the chair and drove me to the big double doors. It was very quiet in the room, and I could sense the tension we had left behind.

As soon as the doors hissed behind us, and we were in the wide, marble hallway, I released a breath I'd been holding for an hour.

“Fucking vultures,” I muttered.

“They're just scared, Alpha,” Lucas said, stamping his boots on the floor. “Talking too much is what scared men do.”

“But they're not wrong, either,” he said, “About the mate.”

“You need to stop doing that. You are spiraling.” Lucas gave me a shove through the side exit, and suddenly the air wasn't smelly with mothballs, but crisp with pine. “Where to? The gym?”

“No,” I said, looking toward the treeline. The sun was beginning to set, and the yard was now mostly dark. “Let's go to the river, the private place, I need the cold.”

“The resort it is,” Lucas said.

This "resort" was nothing more than a cabin, constructed along the edge of our territory over a swift glacial stream. The water was freaking cold, but it was the only thing that made me feel anything.

The healer told me that, as I was dealing with nerve damage, or so-called "The Mute’s Grip," ice-cold water was a better choice of treatment, especially to keep my internal temperature down. The hex in my spine acted like a dam, trapping the volcanic power in my upper body. If I didn't soak in the glacier water, I would definitely burn my own cabin down from the inside out.

Then we came to a wooden deck that looks out over the water, and Lucas stopped the chair. He gazed at me, his eyes searching. “You okay, Alpha?”

“I’m peachy, Lucas. Just a Grand Alpha who can't piss without a plan. Why wouldn't I be okay?”

“Stop being self-pitying. It doesn't look good on you.”

“Easy for you to say, you still get to use your legs.”

Lucas sighed, rubbing his neck. “I’ll get the equipment ready. Just... don't drown yourself while I'm getting the towels, ok?”

“No promises,” I said grumpily.

Then he walked off, toward the cabin, leaving me alone, with the sound of the water going by. I was looking down at the river. The current was strong and white with foam running over the rocks.

I hated the pity. I did not like how the elders looked at me, as if I were a dying fire. But mostly, I didn't like that they were right. The pack was moving off. I was a broken weapon, and in the world, no one keeps the broken pieces.

I gazed at my hands. Their strength was still there. I can still choke someone if I get close enough. However, the world didn't come close again. It watched as I withered away, day by day.

I recalled something that people used to say about me. I whispered to myself, "A blade with no loyalty."

At the moment, I was pointed at nothing. A little bit of cold water, and a future of a long, slow walk to the graveyard.

I bent over and gripped my dead thighs and squeezed until my fingers were hurting. Nothing. Not even a tingle.

“Fuck,” I exhaled the word, but the river drowned it out.

I needed a miracle, or a war. Preferably both. If I had to attend one more meeting about my "breeding potential," in a wheelchair or not, I was going to start snatching heads.

It was too quiet in the woods. It seemed like the entire North was just waiting for me to mess up, for the executioner to finally lose his grip and topple over his chair so they could begin cutting up the corpse.

As Lucas emerged from the house again, I lifted my head and looked about.

“Water's waiting, Alpha,” he said.

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice once again in that low, dangerous rumble. “Let's get it over with. Keep the gate closed, no one should be allowed in here, no one.”

"Sure, Alpha."

I bent forward, gazing at him. "Give me the report. What’s the word from the Crimsonridge Pack?"

“It's a shambles,” he said, rocking his weight. “Total chaos,” the Valecrests, the whole line of Beta, were slaughtered, and “no one left a bit of evidence.”

"And? Who do they think is to blame?

They already have a scapegoat," he mumbled. “One of the Valecrest girls actually survived the impact, and now the pack is turning on her, accusing her of killing her own family.

I gave a short, dry laugh and a little smile curbed my lips.

In a low voice, I said, "Perfect. “All things worked out just as I had planned.”

“You're right, Alpha, it went as you said it would,” he said with a touch of frustration. “But you said this would be the best way to do the job.”

"I know," I replied, slowly nodding. “So, what's the word on her?”

"She's been thrown in the cells to rot," Lucas said. “Her own mate, Alpha Cian, rejected her. The pack is already planning on binding her wolf for good before they exiled her to the Borderlands.”

I looked out onto the sea. This was a well-thought-out plan. The scapegoat I needed was the girl, the survivor.

"Are we sure she’s the only one who got away?" I asked. "We can’t have any loose ends."

“She's the only one of them to have survived the house,” Lucas confirmed. “The rest were… you know.”

"So the pack has no reason to look anywhere else," I said as my eyes darted over the foaming water. “That's good, that's what I wanted.”

“Alpha, I have a question for you,” Lucas said, and I heard the hesitation in his voice.

"Then ask it."

"What are we going to do about her? The Valecrest girl. The only one that can identify us. If she speaks, if anyone believes her, we are dead." He leaned in closer, lowering his voice even more. “You know what other packs would do to us if they knew! They would tear us apart, limb by limb."

I remained silent for a good long while. I simply listened to the water, allowing the silence to grow between us.

“There's a plan for her,” I said, coldly.

"Which is?"

“Now I'm going to look for her,” I said. “And I'll kill her myself."

Lucas seemed not to be surprised. He then nodded, as though he knew that was what the answer would be.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"Today they are going to take her to the Borderlands," he said. "To die."

"Perfect," I said. "That will make it easier."

I looked at my useless legs again. There was a long way to go, and I had to do it in this bloody chair.

"We will leave at dawn," I said.

"Yes, Alpha."

“Remember,” I told him sternly. "This is personal, Lucas. And I don't want any witnesses."

He knew that it was unwise to argue. He merely nodded with his sombre face.

"Alright," he said. "But be careful. The Borderlands is not a good place for a wolf."

"So, then I guess it's a good thing I'm a cripple, isn't it?" I said, with a grim smile on my face.

The last thing I needed was a pack of rogues thinking I was an easy target. I was a Grand Alpha even if I couldn't walk.

But no one knew that I was still the sharpest blade in the North.