Chapter 10
1070 Words
Chapter 10
Evelyn’s POV
The iron door didn't just lock behind me; it sealed me into a tomb.
Less than an hour after Killian and Dominic had left, the heavy bolt slid back with a sickening, metallic screech. Dominic stood in the threshold. His gray eyes were unnaturally bright, the predatory golden hue of his wolf still swirling beneath the surface like oil on water.
"Get up," he said. His voice was flat, carrying a cold, clinical weight.
I scrambled off the floor, my hands trembling. "Where are you taking me? You said—"
"I said you weren't leaving," Dominic interrupted, stepping aside to reveal the pitch-black corridor behind him. "We captured one of the Crescent Moon soldiers who breached the floor. He's bleeding out, and Killian isn't done asking him questions."
My heart did a violent flip in my chest. "I'm a nurse, not a torturer."
"Which is precisely why you're coming," Dominic said, reaching out to grasp my forearm. His touch was scorching, sending a shockwave of resurrected wolf-energy straight to my heart. "You're going to keep him alive until he gives us a name. Move."
He led me down a winding spiral staircase that sank deep into the foundation of the building. The air grew frigid, smelling of damp stone, rust, and the metallic tang of fresh blood.
At the end of the hall, a thick steel door stood ajared. Inside, under a single buzzing fluorescent tube, a man was strapped to a heavy iron chair. He was beaten beyond recognition, his jaw swollen, his gasping breaths rattling in his chest. Killian stood over him, his sleeves rolled up, a heavy shadow looming in the stark light.
"His blood pressure is dropping, Dominic," Killian said without turning around, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "He’s going to pass out before he tells us who paid for the entry codes."
Dominic shoved me gently into the room. "Fix it."
"Fix it?" I gasped, looking at the broken, bleeding man in horror. Everything inside my medical training screamed at the desecration in front of me. "He needs a trauma center! He has a collapsed lung—you can hear the tension in his breath! If I don't—"
"You keep him conscious," Killian growled, turning his dark, suffocating gaze onto me. "That is your only job, nurse. Do it, or we find another way to make him talk that won't be half as gentle."
My stomach churned violently. I stepped forward, my hands shaking uncontrollably as I reached for a roll of gauze from a nearby tray. Tears burned behind my eyelids, hot and fast. I couldn't stop them. As I leaned over the dying soldier to apply pressure to a open wound on his shoulder, the tears finally spilled, tracing silent, burning tracks down my cheeks.
I didn't make a sound. I didn't sob. I just stood there in the cold, wet dark, silently weeping for the bastardized version of medicine I was being forced to perform, and for the terrifying reality of the world I was now chained to.
"Who sent you?" Killian demanded, slamming his fist onto the arm of the metal chair. The iron groaned under the impact.
The prisoner spat blood onto the floor, laughing through a broken smile. "It... it doesn't matter, Alpha. The truce is dead anyway. Tonight... tonight Marcus Alpha takes his bride... and tomorrow, the Crescent Moon claims the Den's docks..."
Marcus.
The name hit me like a physical blow. My breath caught in my throat, my hand freezing against the prisoner's shoulder.
"Marcus?" Killian repeated, his eyes narrowing into deadly slits. "The heir to the Crescent Moon? He's getting married tonight?"
"The Blood Moon wedding..." the prisoner rasped, his eyes rolling back into his head as his consciousness slipped away entirely. "He’s... he’s consolidating the packs..."
"He's out," Dominic noted coolly, stepping up beside me.
Killian cursed, running a blood-stained hand through his dark hair. "Throw him in the cells. We have what we need."
Two guards materialized from the shadows, unbuckling the unconscious soldier and dragging him away. The heavy door slammed shut, leaving only the three of us in the stark, suffocating room.
I stood paralyzed by the sink, my hands covered in dark blood, my body trembling so violently I thought my knees would collapse. Marcus was marrying Isabelle tonight. While I was trapped in an underground interrogation room, covered in blood, my ex-husband was wrapping his arms around my sister, building an empire on the back of my ruined life.
A shadow fell over me.
Dominic stepped into my space. I expected the cold, arrogant boss who had read me my contract like a death sentence. But as he reached out, his long fingers didn't grab me. They were surprisingly gentle as his thumb brushed across my cheek, wiping away a wet, silent tear.
"Don't," I choked out, trying to flinch away from his touch. "Don't touch me."
"You're crying for him?" Dominic murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, velvet register that set my resurrected wolf on fire. His gray eyes burned with a dark, erratic light. "Or are you crying because of the name he spoke?"
"It doesn't matter," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut. "None of this matters. Just let me go..."
"I can't do that, Evelyn," Dominic said.
Before I could open my mouth to argue, his hand slid up to cup the back of my neck, his fingers tangling into my loose hair. He pulled me forward, closing the distance between us so fast the air rushed out of my lungs.
And then, he took my mouth.
It wasn't a soft kiss. It was possessive, fierce, and utterly overwhelming—a sudden, violent collision of dark heat and absolute Alpha authority that shattered whatever sanity I had left. The dual-mate bond exploded in my chest, roaring to life like a wildfire, drowning out the smell of blood, the memory of Marcus, and the fear in my soul.
I let out a soft, helpless gasp against his lips, my hands coming up to push against his chest—but my fingers only curled tighter into the fabric of his shirt, holding on for dear life as the underworld Alpha claimed every single breath in my body.
Behind us, leaning silently against the cold stone wall with his dark eyes burning through the shadows, Killian watched every second of it.
- Writer
