“I mean exactly what I said. Were you dropped on your head as a child, or do you have a natural talent for being slow?”
Frustration flared hot in Alaric’s chest. His fists clenched behind the pole, bound and useless. But before he could snap back, Evelyne cut in smoothly, “And why, may I ask, are we being separated?”
The blond shrugged. “Because the alpha said so, and we don’t question him.”
Evelyne let out a slow, thoughtful hum. “Sounds like he’s got you by the balls.”
Alaric let out a startled cough, caught off guard by her audacity. The blond’s expression darkened, and his lips pressed into a hard line, but she wasn’t done yet.
“Let me guess.” Evelyne tilted her head. “He barks, you fetch?”
Alaric’s eyes widened as the man took a step closer to her.
“Careful, human,” he hissed.
Evelyne arched a brow. “Or what? Will you summon your alpha? Or maybe you’ll—”
A sharp crack echoed through the air, a sound so chilling it could only be that of bone breaking. Before Evelyne’s wide eyes, the figure of a man was no more. In its place stood a massive wolf, its fur a stark mix of white and gray, its teeth bared in a menacing snarl.
Evelyne’s face paled as she met the beast’s crimson eyes. Its front paw dug into the dirt, the picture of imminent violence.
Panic seized Alaric. It was going to kill her. Those behemoth jaws could tear out her throat in an instant.
“Holden!” The urgent cry pierced through the air. “Holden, no!”
A young woman with golden hair burst through the tent’s entrance. Cautiously, she approached the wolf—Holden, she had called him—and slowly raised her hand to touch his head.
“You cannot hurt her,” she said firmly. “We were orderednotto hurt them.”
Holden’s ears flicked toward her voice, his deathly gaze snapping away from Evelyne. A low growl rumbled deep in his throat, his hesitation palpable. For a moment, it seemed as if he might ignore the command altogether. But after what felt like an eternity, the great wolf let out a huffing breath, his body shuddering with restrained aggression.
Another sickening shift sounded. Muscles twisted, bones cracked back into place, and fur receded as the grotesque form melted back into that of a man.
A naked man.
Alaric’s eyes flicked down briefly to see the discarded remains of Holden’s clothing strewn haphazardly near Evelyne’s feet. Holden, however, seemed utterly unbothered by his state of undress. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face as he casually bent down, scooping up his clothes without a shred of shame. Alaric wasn’t sure what was more disturbing: the fact that this man had nearly ripped Evelyne apart, or that he was now standing there, stark naked, acting like nothing had happened.
Alaric looked to the blonde woman, who stood with quiet composure, her gaze fixed stubbornly on the ground as if annoyed, refusing to acknowledge Holden’s bare form. And Evelyne—poor Evelyne. She was frozen, her mouth agape, her expression caught between shock, horror, and complete disgust.
The woman waited until Holden silently walked out of the tent. Before leaving, she looked over her shoulder at Alaric and said, “I’ll have someone else show you your tents.”
Two muscular, dark-skinned men entered, ignoring Alaric and Evelyne. A dagger flashed, and their ropes fell away just as strong hands seized them. Alaric was dragged left, Evelyne right.
“Evelyne!” Alaric cried out as they were pulled away from each other, but she didn’t look back.
Chapter 26
Aweek had passed in captivity. Though the air had begun to warm, Evelyne wore the same travel-worn dress, its fabric stiff with dust and sweat. Her bindings had been removed, but she knew without doubt she was still their prisoner. At least four men stood guard outside her tent at all times, their presence a constant reminder that escape was impossible.
And then there was him. Thealpha.
She hated his daily visits, the cold, silent routine that had become her new reality. He never spoke, just watched her with that hard, unreadable stare. Every time, he would step in, grip her chin, and tilt her face up until their eyes met. With unsettling intensity, he would search her gaze, looking for the same dark corruption that had consumed Reuben.
The first time he approached her, she flinched and fought against his grip, but it was useless. He was too strong. When she spat at him as he turned away, his body stiffened, like he was weighing whether to return the favor. For a second, she thought he might. Instead, he clenched his jaw and shook his head, as if deciding she wasn’t worth the trouble.
They had taken her weapons while rummaging through her bag like she was nothing more than a prized possession to be stripped of its worth. But they had left her two things: the book she’d gifted to Cillian and Alaric’s folded-up map. Everything else was still in the carriage, left stranded in the woods somewhere.
She hadn’t seen Alaric since they were separated, but she had pestered the guards relentlessly, demanding to know if he was alive. Their short, clipped responses were always the same—Yes. And she had no choice but to believe them, because the thought of him dead made her stomach churn.
