Kilian’s POV

“I want to see his face.”
“Yes, Alpha.” Krin slinks forth to reveal the identity of our captor, and I recognize a smell I want nothing to do with.
“Br...”
My ears perk at once, my sense of smell forking down an electricity rush down my spine, my Gammas bobbing their heads toward the far end. It’s ok, I want to believe Spades’ a mile from here. At the market. Where she’s supposed to be...
“Who’s there?” growls a pack member.
“It’s a simple buzz from the light bulb,” I catch at the back. I damn hope it is.
Grabbing the bag’s hem, Krin tosses it along the lad’s neck. He’s the biggest bully of the pack, and that’s perhaps why he’ll never be my Beta. But Hataro on the Demeter, I can’t be without one, or in this instance, the third in line...Nathair, doll, why can’t you show your pretty face when needed.
“Ta-da!” That snide he grunts, it’s a psychopathic lip straining his D. No, I’m not a fan of Krin. Punchable to the hilt!
And fuck. I sensed it right away. It’s Spades’ dog from Pallamir.
He’s been roughed up.
My growl comes forth as well as my legs.
“You’re a dead man, Alpha!” he spits, quite literally, at my feet.
“HOLD!” I bark. My pack is on edge, the wave of growls that just surfed in my ears, a bloody confirmation.
“Don’t you know, wolf? I’m a ghost... I’m already dead.”
Threats, always threats. For years on end. Doesn’t he know? Threats raised us, humming explosive lullabies as we huddled in abandoned bunkers, apocalypse rocking us to sleep.
He sniggers as if I’m missing a huge chunk of a story. “They’re coming. It’s a matter of days.”
“They can keep trying. Let the suckers come!” I can’t lose my cool. Gammas take backward steps, maybe sensing my shifting.
I’ve got to keep my foot off the gas... He’s pushing buttons along my authority, my nails clawing from his threats.
“We’ll see that.” The man is either suicidal or knows he’s already a dead man.
The powerful throaty growls of my men are burning into my soul.
“Untie him!” I order.
“I’m not here to fight. I’m ready for it.”
“My position as Alpha would be disgraced if I killed a restrained man.” There’s a tear slivering my ears as I fucking remove my shirt. I’m playing it rough and gruff. A few years ago, I had no idea I would be recognized as a pack leader among a bunch of survivors, orphans, and wanderers from decimated packs. But here I am, from Sigma to Alpha.
Krin cuts the plastic handcuffs, well-ensuring to nip his knife into the man’s flesh. “Does it hurt? I’m assuming it does. I’m sorry I don’t want to upset you too much.” The bastard can’t help overdoing it. And I’m not talking about Pallamir’s scum wincing as his blood circulation returns.
As my Gammas’ eyes focus on me, I swallow hard. They’re eagerly waiting for me to punish our surprise guest.
Taking in each of their faces, I snarl darkly at this circle they have drawn around me.
War injects bloodshed, revenge, and poison into our humanity. I can see how my people have changed from it. Desensitized... Unfortunately, this is how it goes. There will always be two sides to a story, which mirrors Vendetta, the very essence of war.
While my father’s wise words linger in my mind, I flick this dog’s chin from side to side. Seems Krin wasn’t too tender with him. The bridge of his nose is collapsed, a bloodied eyelid so tumefied it cannot be opened.
It’s going to be a long night for me with Spades.
Maybe not.
Maybe she’ll never find out... She doesn’t need to.
“Your name,” I grunt.
“Bret Kirjan, Beta of Alpha Hayden.”
I swiftly revolve my gaze around my men, intently watching them. Hatos is panting on the spot, boring a disgruntled face, most probably his late daughter in mind. All, a stare darker deep space will ever be.
I could do with some whiskey...
“Give our Alpha your best!” Krin barks, kicking the chair enough for it to briefly sway on its two legs.
Soon, a strong scent emanates from the entryway, followed by muted footsteps within its shadow.
“General,” growls Krin. “Why is our Zeta so secretive?!”
“Hold your tongue before I rip it off,” Nathair impurely drawls.
Krin’s eyes catch mine. A frown lines his face as if he’s discovered something I just became aware of.
Shit.
Nathair’s got this frosted grin on her, and I can’t blame her.
“Zeta, are you ok?” I ask, juggling my eyes from Bret to Nathair.
“Never been better,” she sniggers.
Her body jerks forth. That's enough for us to take a step back as we widen our circle, Krin the first to reach for his pistol.
“No, Krin. No need for this... I swear.” Nathair isn’t feeling it, and neither am I.
And then, I fucking see red. A shadow behind Nathair is following her footsteps.
“The Chimera!” roars Krin. I wish he could stop flame-bating this shit show!
