The Alpha I Built Betrayed Me

I didn't come here for a rescue mission.

For half a month, I tracked the illegal wolfsbane shipments across the northern border. The trail led straight to this rotting cellar. My goal was simple: map the compound, gather the ledger evidence, and leave no trace.

Then I looked through the iron grate.

The woman chained to the damp wall was a mess. Blood soaked her torn clothes. Her wrists were heavily blistered beneath the rusted cuffs, the skin raw and weeping. Below her knee, the flesh around a massive trap wound had turned a sickly, infected black.

Her eyes were swollen. She had been crying.

Yet, she wasn't making a sound.

I crouched lower, narrowing my gaze. I had seen countless fighters face their end. Usually, they screamed. They bargained. They cried out for their mothers or their mates.

She just stared at the oak door.

Her head tilted a fraction of an inch. Her eyes tracked the shadows shifting under the doorframe. She seemed to be timing the guard's footsteps.

My brow furrowed. She internalized the agony, locking it away behind a wall of pure silence.

*She's hasn't finished,* I thought.

A sudden draft pushed through the narrow cellar window, carrying her scent straight to me.

Cedar. Post-rain earth. A sharp tang of fresh copper.

My chest tightened. My pulse skipped a single, strange beat. I rubbed my sternum, blaming the reaction on holding my breath in the damp air.

*Why do I want to get closer?*

It wasn't a mate bond. I would know if it was. It was just an irrational, magnetic pull. A warning bell ringing in the back of my skull.

I needed to walk away and stick to the mission.

Instead, I stepped away from the grate and moved toward the cellar entrance. I couldn't let her die down there.

Footsteps scuffed the dirt outside the heavy oak door. The guard shifted his weight. He hummed a tuneless song, tossing a rusted key ring in his palm.

I picked up a loose stone and flicked it down the dark corridor. It clattered against the far wall.

"Who's there?" the guard grunted.

He dropped his hand to his hilt. He took two steps into the shadows. I stepped out from the blind spot behind him.

I clamped my hand over his mouth and swept his legs out from under him. He hit the stone floor hard. Before he could struggle, I drove the pommel of my dagger into his temple. He went limp.

I snatched the keys from his belt.

I slid the largest iron key into the lock. It clicked heavily.

I pushed the door open.

The moment the hinges groaned, the woman lunged.

Her leg was crushed, her veins pumped full of poison, and she was chained to the wall. But she threw her entire upper body forward. The rusted links whistled through the damp air. She swung her chained wrists in a vicious arc aimed right at my throat.

I ducked under the heavy iron. I grabbed her forearms, pinning them together before she could strike again.

"Easy," I ordered, keeping my voice low. "I'm not one of them."

She fought against my grip. Her muscles trembled with exhaustion, but her glare was pure ice.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"Your way out," I answered.

"I didn't ask for a rescue."

"Good. I didn't come here to give one."

I forced her arms down and shoved the key into the rusted cuffs. The locks gave way with a harsh grind. The heavy chains hit the floor.

She immediately shoved my chest, trying to put distance between us. Her injured leg buckled. She pitched forward.

I caught her by the waist.

"Don't touch me," she hissed, swiping at my arm.

I ignored her protest and lowered her gently to the stone floor.

"You're bleeding out," I told her. "If you walk on that leg, the infection will spread to your heart within the hour."

"I can walk."

"You can barely stand."

I crouched in front of her, keeping my face level with hers. I offered no pity. Pity was an insult to a warrior.

"Don't move," I said flatly. "You'll make it worse."

She clamped her jaw shut, her eyes darting to the open doorway.

I pulled a small glass vial from my tactical pouch.

"What is that?" she asked, her eyes tracking my hands.

"Purifying elixir. It strips the wolfsbane out of the muscle."

"Will it work?"

"It will burn."

"Do it," she challenged, not blinking.

I uncorked the glass and poured the clear liquid directly over the blackened flesh of her calf.

The solution hissed on contact. White smoke curled off her skin.

She didn't scream. Her fingernails dug into the dirt, scraping against the stone until her knuckles turned white. A single tremor violently shook her shoulders, then she forced herself completely still.

"Impressive," I noted, wrapping a clean bandage tightly around the wound.

"Are you going to talk, or are we going to leave?" she snapped.

I tied off the linen and stood up.

"We're leaving."

I leaned down and scooped her into my arms.

She stiffened instantly. Her hands hovered awkwardly near my chest, refusing to hold on. Her entire body remained rigid, coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. She kept her gaze fixed on the dark corridor ahead, scanning for threats.

"You're a lot of trouble," I muttered, adjusting my hold on her waist.

"Put me down and you won't have to deal with it," she retorted.

I didn't put her down. I didn't want to.

"Keep your voice down," I warned, stepping over the unconscious guard. "We have three minutes before the next patrol."

I carried her up the damp stone steps, moving quickly toward the forest edge. The night air hit us, freezing and sharp.

We reached the tree line just as a loud, piercing horn shattered the silence of the compound.

"They found the guard," she whispered, her fingers finally gripping the fabric of my shirt.

"Hold on," I said, breaking into a run.

Before we could clear the first row of pines, a massive silver wolf stepped out from the shadows, blocking our path.

The beast bared its teeth, a low growl vibrating through the earth.

"Well," a familiar, mocking voice called out from the darkness behind the wolf. "Look who finally decided to show up."