Sentenced to The Ruthless Alpha

Chapter 15: No More Ifs and Buts

Roman POV

If he was caught off guard by Darryl’s threat, it was for a fleeting second. Quick as a whiplash, Roman regained his composure.

He worked up a smile as smug as the elder’s and joined him on his feet.

“I’m not too sure, Darryl. Are you accusing me of not being a pureblood due to the misfortunes that have befallen us under my reign?”

Darryl was unfazed by the intimidating look in the alpha’s eyes.

“All I am trying to say, alpha Roman, is that I’m loyal to this pack and to ensuring it’s longevity, just like everyone else. You never have to worry about losing your special seat. Only a half-blood need quake in their boots,”

Something sinister glinted in his eyes as he added, “That is because the high council is planning to conduct the Culling ceremony to usher in the new quarter. Every young man in the pack must participate. Powers and positions just might change hands, who knows?”

Roman’s chest tightened. “The Culling ceremony?” He didn’t breathe for five seconds while his wolf groaned with discomfort. “Why am I just hearing this?”

“The elders and I thought it best to ensure we had the budget for it before bringing this to your desk. We unanimously agreed that this would be the best way to cheer up the dampened spirits of our people. Additionally, it will likely mend the bridges that have burned since the human arrived. You know we are famed for being the best organizers of the Culling ceremony across the region. What pack wouldn’t jump at the chance to flex their strength and boost their status?”

He lowered his voice now. “Alpha, this is how we will remind them which pack has the strongest wolves, especially after you win against the other eight alphas! Think about it, okay?”

Patting Roman’s back, he left with a sly smile on his face.

When the door shut behind him, Roman broke character and slumped on his chair. Hyperventilating, he groped for his drawer, knocking things down till he found Matilda’s salt pouch that helped with his panic attacks. He sniffed, wheezed and broke into a sweat. It helped, marginally.

What the f**k was he going to do? The Culling ceremony was a pack tradition to weed out half-bloods in a pack. It was the ultimate show of strength amongst different packs. Losers were shamed and if they occupied sensitive leadership positions, they lost it.

Victors were praised, and moved up the social ladder.

Failing the Culling as young pup was understandable. But failing the Culling as an adult male wolf was not just shameful, it could open active conversations of being a half-blood!

Failing the Culling as an alpha??? That was an irrefutable proof of being a half-blood. Since half-bloods were a step above omegas, a half-blood alpha was equally abominable.

Roman lurched to his feet, clutching his chest. He still couldn’t breathe properly despite inhaling the salt. But it wasn’t Matilda’s charm that failed; it was his wolf that had gone still.

“R-Regan!” He gasped over the link. “Regan!!”

But when the door swung open, it was Thora wielding a broom stick.

“Alpha? I-I didn’t think you’d be here. I was sent here to clean…” Her eyes dilated when she looked properly at his face. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

The broom fell as she dashed forward to break Roman’s fall. She cradled his head on her shoulder. Roman shuddered at the tiny fires that erupted all over his body just by their contact.

He didn’t realize he was cold until it warmed him up from inside out. His clogged nostrils began to free up the more he inhaled her sweet scent. His lips were inches from her neck. For the first time, he drew closer, eager for a taste.

“Alpha, can you try to seat? You’re crushing me with your weight.” Thora grumbled.

He knew she was afraid of someone walking in on them and accusing her of doing something to him.

He wondered how she was so calm when his body screamed for her. Did she really feel nothing? While this should have been the good news he wanted to hear as his fated mate would never be numb to his touch, he felt an ache in his chest instead.

“W-Wait, p-please.” He begged her. Axel needed more time feeding off her energy.

Thora glanced at the door. “I have a ton of chores to complete in a short time. I’ll get whipped if I fail to…”

“I’ll p-protect you.” He breathed weakly.

But she gently steered him to his chair and set him down. When she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist in a vice like grip.

“Get a grip, alpha. I’m not one of your night wolves. I’m the human, remember?” She snapped her fingers in front of his glassy eyes. “Wake up! You have the wrong woman.”

But he still didn’t let go, even when she wrenched her arm back. Her dilated eyes told him it scared her how strong his grip was even when he couldn’t stand straight.

“Please, let me go. Rhea won’t spare me.”

“No one will h-hurt you. I p-promise.” Axel was standing now. They were almost out of the woods. He just needed to stall for two more minutes.”

“Dax?” Thora quipped. Roman’s hands dropped from her wrist like they burned. He looked and saw no one. Thora had edged backwards, picked her broomstick and was headed for the door.

“THORA!” The strength was back in his voice.

She turned to him, shocked that he called her name this time.

“You could protect me, but let’s face it. You are never going to, like you’ve proved time and time again. I know that now.” She turned and left.

Throwing his head back, he drew in a lungful of what was left of her scent. His chest still heaved. Burying his head in his hands, he pressed his eyes shut.

“How much more proof do you need?” Axel chided him. “Why are you fighting the truth, Roman? She fills the hollowness within me every time you touch hands. She heard you call her name via your mate link. Your alpha voice worked on her at the human hospital. Now, this? Look how fast she fixed us. What more proof do you need to believe your fated mate is right in front of your face?”

“SHUT UP!” Roman snapped, surging to his feet and tugging at his hair with both hands. He just couldn’t accept a human as his mate. That would overcomplicate his position in a pack that considered humans vermin.

Regan dashed in then, breathing heavily. Roman turned his back, blinking away the tears that had coated his eyes.

“Took you long enough.” He said, slanting an irritated look at his twin. “Better not be late to my funeral, okay?”

Regan lunged forward and hugged his brother tightly. He didn’t let go when Roman tried to wriggle free.

“Get off me!”

“Shut up for one second and let me check.”

Regan shut his eyes and listened to their bodies. Their heartbeats melded. Roman’s body heat was normal. His scent was strong. His wolf was a little weak, but standing. Finally, he pulled back.

“Did you forget you sent me on a bloody errand into the city?” He raked a hand over his hair. “I felt you choking. I called your phone. Why do you never pick up your goddamn phone?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I was choking?” Roman replied sarcastically. But the truth was that he hated using or doing things that connected him to humans, as if it made him even less of a wolf.

“Cut it out. You know hearing my voice would have helped.” Regan inhaled, catching a scent. “What was Darryl doing here? Did he see you?”

“No. No, but it was a close call.”

“Thora?” Regan continued, sniffing. “She was in here too? Why…”

“Matilda sent her to bring my medicine.” He lied. “But she didn’t see me either.”

He knew that if he said she had stopped by to clean, Regan would have been suspicious because no omegas were allowed in his office/study ever, without special permission.

It meant Thora had lied about being sent by Rhea, an omega, to clean his study. He needed to find out why she lied.

“How did you pull through so fast? Even with my help, you need at least thirty minutes to stand and speak properly.” Curiosity swirled in Regan’s eyes.

“That’s not important. We’ve got a bigger problem.”

Roman plunked back in his chair, looking deathly serious. The matter was dire after all.

Regan frowned. “What did that old crow say?”

He stayed silent after Regan told him. Finally, he sunk into a seat. “That’s…that’s bad, Roman. We can’t…I mean, you can’t…”

“I know.” Roman wrung his hands.

“Can Matilda help?”

“If she could, her magic would have cured me all these years.”

“We can find a way to cancel the Culling…”

“Darryl will never let that happen. Even if I insisted, what excuse do I have to cancel a ceremony like that? Hosting it will do our pack a world of good right now. I’m already on thin ice. They’d hate me even more if I act rashly.” Roman scrubbed a hand over his face.

Regan looked broken. “We still have time. Maybe we can figure something out…”

“The Culling is in a couple of weeks, Regan. They’ll have my head for taking the throne despite being a half-blood! They’ll likely banish you for keeping my secret too.” He shot to his feet. “Maybe it’s best I let Vance intervene.”

Regan’s arched a brow. “Vance? Really? You’re just going to throw in the towel? That’s unlike you, Roman.”

Roman’s face was steel. “This isn’t a fight me or my wolf can win. I know when to cut my losses, Regan.”

Regan frowned. “Is it so hard for you to trust me with whatever plan is brewing in your head? I know you better than you think. You never go down without a fight, so drop the pity act.”

When Roman didn’t object, he continued.

“Fine, I’ll leave you. I hope when you’re ready to share, you will choose to confide in me since you clearly can’t confide in your beta about this.” He turned and left.

Roman's head throbbed. He wished he could tell Regan everything, but not now.

He messaged the pack doctor over link, pressured her to complete the research within the week.

“What are you going to do?” Axel asked him.

Roman inhaled. “She lied about coming in here to clean.”

“What if she had felt us in distress and was drawn to you?”

“Or she meant to come in here to steal or spy on pack documents?”

“We’ve run out of time to play these guessing games, Roman. No more Ifs and Buts. There’s one definitive way to find out if she’s really our mate.”

Roman stared at his hands. He had spent weeks fighting what he was about to do.

"Fine." He pressed his eyes shut and made the only decision left. "I have to mark her. Time to know if she's our savior or our doom."