The Slave Who Could Tame The Alpha

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13

Ryker Pov

The large oak table in the grand council chamber was surrounded by the most powerful leaders of the neighbouring packs.

Maps were spread across the parchment, detailed with ink markings indicating border patrols, recent rogue movements, and reported vampire sightings near the eastern ridges.

"If the rogues push any further south, they'll hit the outer settlements within two weeks."

Alpha Thomas spoke up, his rough voice cutting through the heavy silence of the room. "We need to double the guard along the perimeter, Ryker. A joint patrol."

I didn't answer right away. My arms were crossed over my chest, my gaze fixed on a small ink stain on the edge of the wooden map table.

I wasn't thinking about rogue incursions. I wasn't thinking about vampires bleeding our borders.

My mind was entirely consumed by the memory of a delicate, pale maid standing terrified in my chambers last night.

Liana.

The name had echoed in my head like a rhythmic pulse all morning. The sun had barely risen, yet every second dragged on like an eternity.

All I could anticipate was the coming afternoon, the hour she was ordered to enter my private quarters again.

My wolf was restless, pacing back and forth beneath my skin, scratching at my ribs with an unbearable impatience. How would her small, soft fingers feel pressing into the tense muscles of my back?

Would she tremble when her skin brushed mine? How would my wolf react when her hands finally touched us? The mere thought made the blood run hot through my veins, my knuckles turning white as I clenched my fists beneath the table.

"Ryker?"

Alpha Thomas’s voice broke through my thoughts. I blinked, turning my head slowly to look at him. He was watching me with a furrowed brow, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly.

"Is something wrong? You seem... elsewhere today," Thomas noted, a subtle hint of curiosity laced in his tone. The other pack leaders went quiet, their eyes turning toward me.

"I am fine," I stated, my tone dropping into an icy, unyielding octave that warned him not to pry further.

"The border strategy stands. We reinforced the eastern ridge with two extra squads from my vanguard. My Beta will draft the patrol schedules by sunset."

Thomas held my gaze for a fraction of a second before nodding, satisfied enough with the answer to drop the subject.

We concluded the meeting shortly after. The pack leaders gathered their maps, exchanged brief nods of respect, and exited the council room one by one. I remained seated at the head of the table, leaning my head back against the carved wood, letting out a heavy, tired breath.

"You really were absent-minded today," a familiar voice said from the side.

Garruk walked toward the table, leaning his broad frame against the edge. His sharp brown eyes searched my face with a mix of concern and lingering suspicion.

"That doesn't happen often," Garruk continued, crossing his arms. "Normally, you'd be ripping into Thomas for suggesting a joint patrol on our land. Is everything alright with you, Ryker?"

"I said I was fine, Garruk," I replied, standing up from my chair and rolling my shoulders back to ease the sudden, knotting tension in my neck.

"Just a restless night."

"If you say so," Garruk murmured, clearly not entirely convinced, though he knew better than to push me when my mood was this volatile.

Before I could walk past him toward the hallway leading to the royal wing, a sudden wave of frantic shouts echoed from the outer courtyard, breaking through the thick stone walls of the castle.

Garruk’s ears twitched, his head snapping toward the high windows. "A commotion at the main gates." He straightened up, adjusting the heavy leather strap across his chest. "I'll go take care of it. You stay and rest."

"No, I'm coming with you."

Garruk gave a slight nod, and together we strode through the grand stone corridors, our heavy boots echoing in unison until we pushed open the tall iron doors leading out to the main courtyard.

The afternoon air was crisp, carrying the sharp scent of damp earth and horses. A small circle of guards had formed near the side entrance of the courtyard, blocking a tiny, hunched figure from stepping any further onto the palace grounds.

An old woman stood at the centre of the guards' harsh glares. She was extraordinarily short, draped in a heavy, threadbare cloak that looked far too large for her frail frame.

Tears streaked through the deep, carved wrinkles of her pale face, her hands trembling violently as she clutched a small leather pouch to her chest.

"Please! I beg of you, just let me see her!" the woman sobbed, her raspy voice cracking with desperate emotion. "She needs this! She can't survive without it!"

"Stand back, old woman," the head guard barked, his hand resting firmly on the pommel of his sword.

"Servants are not allowed visitors during work hours without explicit permission from Madam Mira. Leave now before we drag you out."

"I just need to give her her medicine!" she wailed, dropping to her knees in the cold dirt, holding the pouch up like a sacred offering.

"Please, she's sick, she's my only daughter!"

Garruk stepped forward, his Beta presence commanding immediate silence from the guards, who instantly straightened up and bowed their heads.

"What is the meaning of this scene?" Garruk asked coldly, looking down at the weeping woman.

The old woman looked up, her tear-stained eyes wide with terror as she realised she was staring at the pack's Beta, and the tall, towering Alpha standing silently behind him.

"My Lord! Please, have mercy!" she cried out, scrambling forward on her hands and knees until the guards stepped in front to block her.

"My daughter... She is a maid here in the palace. She left her medicine at home. If she doesn't take it, her heart... her body will collapse!"

I stood a few paces back, watching the pathetic display. Servants were always causing minor disruptions, endlessly drowning in their fragile, mortal problems. I raised a brow, my tone bored and impatient.

"Who is your daughter?" I demanded, my voice cutting through her desperate sobbing.

"Name the maid."

The old woman wiped her nose with the sleeve of her tattered cloak, swallowing hard as she looked up at me with trembling lips.

"Liana, my Lord," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the breeze. "Her name is Liana."

The air in my lungs completely froze.

My body went dead rigid, every muscle snapping tight like a pulled bowstring. The bored, distant expression vanished instantly, replaced by a sudden, violent spike of electricity that shot straight down my spine.

My wolf lifted his head inside my mind, letting out a low, dangerous rumble that echoed in the back of my throat.

Liana.

My eyes snapped down to the small, pathetic leather pouch clutched in the old woman's shaking, dirty hands.