Rise of the Immortal

Chapter 12: Somebody Save Me

The sound of my door opening made me look up from where I sat curled in the corner, my arms wrapped around my knees. Three days had passed since the Alpine Council meeting, and Marcus had made good on his promise to reward my performance. Better food, a thin blanket, even a book to read during the endless hours of solitude. But the improvements felt hollow, like putting makeup on a corpse.

I expected to see the usual guard bringing my evening meal, but instead, Greg filled the doorway. My blood turned to ice water in my veins.

"Hello, little wolf," he said, his voice carrying that sickeningly familiar tone that had haunted my nightmares for five years. "Time for your reward."

I pressed myself further into the corner, every instinct screaming danger. "Marcus said—"

"Marcus said you've been a good girl," Greg interrupted, stepping into the room and letting the door swing shut behind him. "And good girls deserve special treatment."

The way he looked at me made my skin crawl. I knew what was coming. I was more terrified about tonight though. I try to forget the assaults, but they creep into my dreams at night.

"I don't want any special treatment," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "Just leave me alone."

Greg laughed, the sound echoing off the stone walls. "Oh, but we're way past what you want, aren't we? You've been Marcus's pet project for so long, I think he's forgotten that I found you first. That I'm the one who brought you back here where you belong."

He took another step closer, and I scrambled to my feet, pressing my back against the cold wall. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide from the look in his eyes.

"Five years I've watched you," he continued conversationally, like we were discussing the weather. "Five years I've been patient while Marcus played his games. But tonight, while he's busy with his victory celebrations, I thought we could have some private time like we used to."

My wolf, dormant for so long, stirred with the first flicker of real terror I'd felt since the early days of my captivity. She sensed the immediate danger even through the fog of suppression that had kept her quiet.

"Greg, don't do this," I whispered, hating how small my voice sounded. "Marcus won't—"

"Marcus won't know," Greg cut me off, reaching for his belt. "And even if he did, what's he going to do? You performed beautifully today, convinced all those Alphas that you're happy here. If you try to tell a different story now, who's going to believe you?"

The logic was sickeningly sound. I'd just spent hours convincing a room full of powerful wolves that I was content, that my captivity was really rehabilitation. Any claims of assault would be dismissed as the lies of an unstable female trying to escape the consequences of her choices.

Greg seemed to read my thoughts in my expression because his smile widened. "That's right, little wolf. You trapped yourself with your own performance. Marcus is a genius, really—making you complicit in your own captivity."

He lunged forward, and I tried to dodge, but my body too weak from years of poor nutrition and limited movement. His hand caught my wrist, yanking me away from the wall with enough force to send pain shooting up my arm.

"Please," I gasped, struggling against his grip. "Please don't do this."

"Begging already?" Greg's free hand grabbed the front of my dress—the same navy blue dress I'd worn to convince the Alpine Council of my compliance. "I thought you white wolves were supposed to be fierce. Where's all that legendary power now?"

The fabric strained under his grip, and I felt it begin to tear. The sound seemed impossibly loud in the confined space, like the ripping of my last shred of dignity. My wolf snarled inside me, pressing against the barriers that had kept her subdued for so long.

"There she is," Greg breathed, his eyes lighting up with vicious pleasure. "I can feel her trying to wake up. But it's too late, isn't it? Too many years of suppression, too much trauma. She can't save you now."

He was right, and we both knew it. My wolf was stirring, but she was weak, confused, unable to break through the psychological chains that had bound her. I was helpless, trapped in a body that had forgotten how to fight back.

The dress tore further under Greg's rough handling, and I closed my eyes, trying to retreat into the mental space that had protected me during the worst moments of my captivity. But his voice dragged me back to the horrible present.

"Look at me," he commanded, his grip tightening painfully on my wrist. "I want to see your eyes when I take you."

He bent me over on the bed and pushed my underwear over in one swift movement and rubbed my c**t. I zoned him out as much as I could. He was pounding me too hard for me to stay zoned out for too long. The pain that I felt was almost unbearable. I wanted to scream, but who would care?

The door exploded inward with a sound like thunder.

The impact sent Greg stumbling backward, his hold on me breaking as metal shrieked against stone. Through the cloud of dust and debris, a figure filled the doorway—tall, broad-shouldered, radiating a fury so intense it seemed to make the air itself vibrate.

Kale.

For a heartbeat, I thought I was hallucinating. Five years of captivity, five years of broken promises and false hopes, had taught me not to trust my desperate wishes. But then his eyes found mine across the cell, and the mate bond that had been dormant for so long suddenly blazed to life like a supernova.

The connection hit me like a physical blow, flooding my system with sensations I'd forgotten existed. Warmth. Safety. Love so fierce it took my breath away. And underneath it all, a rage that made my own anger seem like a candle flame next to a forest fire.

"Get away from her," Kale's voice was barely recognizable, more growl than words. The Alpha power in it made every wolf instinct I possessed snap to attention, including Greg's.

Greg had scrambled to his feet during my moment of shock, but he was trapped in the room with nowhere to run. His face had gone pale, all his predatory confidence evaporating in the face of a true Alpha's wrath.

"Your Majesty," he stammered, his hands raised in a gesture that might have been surrender or a plea for mercy. "I was just—"

"I can see exactly what you were doing," Kale snarled, stepping into the room. In the confined space, he seemed impossibly large, a force of nature barely contained in human form. "Did you think I wouldn't find her? Did you think I would ever stop looking?"

The bond between us pulsed with his emotions—love, relief, and a murderous fury directed entirely at the wolf who had just raped me. I could feel Kale's wolf clawing to get out, demanding blood for the threat to his mate.

Greg made the mistake of trying to edge toward the door. Kale moved faster than my eyes could follow, his hand closing around Greg's throat and slamming him against the stone wall hard enough to crack the mortar.

"Five years," Kale said, his voice deadly quiet now. "Five years you kept her from me. Five years of torture and abuse and god knows what else."

His eyes flicked to me, taking in my torn dress and the bruises already forming on my wrist, and his grip on Greg's throat tightened. "And tonight you added rape to your list of crimes."

Greg's face was turning purple, his feet barely touching the ground as Kale held him against the wall. "Please," he wheezed. "Marcus... Marcus ordered—"

"I don't care what Marcus ordered," Kale cut him off. "I care that you put your hands on my mate. I care that you've spent five years making her life a living hell. And I care that you were raping her when I walked through that door."

The casual way he said 'mate' made my heart skip. Even after everything, even after five years of separation and trauma, he still wanted me as his mate. Still considered me his.

Greg's struggles were getting weaker as Kale's grip cut off his air supply. Part of me wanted to watch him die, wanted to see him pay for every moment of fear and pain he'd inflicted. But a larger part—the part that was still fundamentally me beneath all the trauma—knew that Kale killing Greg in front of me would add another layer of horror to this moment.

"Kale," I whispered, my voice hoarse from disuse and shock. "Don't."

His head turned toward me immediately, his grip on Greg loosening just enough to let the other wolf gasp for air. "Talia?"

"Don't kill him," I said, pulling the torn edges of my dress together with shaking hands. "Not like this. Not here."

Kale's eyes searched my face, and I felt his confusion through the bond. He'd expected me to want revenge, to demand Greg's death for what he'd almost done. But sitting in that room, watching the life drain from Greg's face, all I could think about was Elena and the other prisoners who were probably listening to this confrontation and wondering if they'd be next.

"He hurt you," Kale said simply, as if that explained everything. And maybe it did.

"Yes," I agreed. "But if you kill him now, Marcus will use it as an excuse to hurt the others. There are more prisoners, Kale. Innocent wolves who don't deserve to pay for his crimes."

Understanding flickered in Kale's eyes, followed by grudging admiration. Even after everything I'd endured, I was still thinking about protecting others. It was probably what he'd loved about me in the first place.

With visible effort, Kale released his grip on Greg's throat. The beta collapsed to his knees, gasping and clutching at his bruised neck.

"You're right," Kale said, his voice still rough with barely contained violence. "But this isn't over."

He turned to Greg, who was struggling to breathe on the cell floor. "I want you to listen very carefully. When I'm done liberating this fortress and everyone in it, I'm going to come looking for you. And when I find you, I'm going to make you wish I'd killed you quickly tonight."

Greg's eyes widened with terror, but he managed a shaky nod.

Satisfied that his message had been received, Kale stepped over Greg's prone form and knelt beside me in the corner where I'd pressed myself during the confrontation. His hands hovered over my shoulders, clearly wanting to touch me but afraid of causing more trauma.

"Are you hurt?" he asked softly, his Alpha authority giving way to the gentle concern of a mate who'd thought he'd lost everything.

I shook my head, though we both knew that wasn't entirely true. The physical damage was minimal—bruises and torn clothing that would heal. But the psychological impact of nearly being assaulted, of having my worst fears come to the surface, would take longer to process.

"I'm okay," I whispered, the words automatic after five years of surviving by minimizing my pain. "I'm okay."

Kale's face crumpled with an emotion I couldn't identify. "No, you're not," he said quietly. "And that's my fault. I should have found you sooner. I should have never let them take you in the first place."

The guilt in his voice broke something inside me. Through the bond, I could feel the weight of five years' worth of self-recrimination, the crushing burden of believing he'd failed me when I needed him most.

"It's not your fault," I said, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch his face. His skin was warm under my fingers, solid and real in a way that made my heart ache. "You came for me. You found me."

"Too late," he said, catching my hand in his and pressing it against his cheek. "I was almost too late."

"But you weren't," I insisted, putting every ounce of conviction I possessed into the words. "You saved me, Kale. You're here now."

Around us, I could hear the sounds of a larger battle—shouts and gunfire and the clash of wolves in combat. Kale had brought an army to rescue me, had waged war against Marcus's fortress for the chance to hold me again.

"We need to go," Kale said reluctantly, glancing toward the door. "This place isn't secure yet, and I need to get you somewhere safe."

I nodded, trying to stand on legs that felt like water. Kale's arm immediately went around my waist, supporting my weight as I swayed on my feet. The simple contact sent warmth flooding through me, chasing away some of the cold that had lived in my bones for five years.

"Elena," I said suddenly, remembering my fellow prisoner. "There's another wolf—a girl named Elena. She's downstairs in a cell. We have to help her."

"We'll get everyone," Kale promised, lifting me into his arms when it became clear my legs wouldn't support me. "Every single prisoner in this place is coming home with us."

As he carried me from the room that had been my world for so long, I caught a glimpse of Greg still huddled on the floor, clutching his throat and staring after us with a mixture of fear and hatred. He was alive, but broken—which felt like a more fitting punishment than a quick death.

The corridor outside was chaos. Red Moon warriors were methodically clearing the downstair cells, liberating prisoners who looked as shocked and disoriented as I felt. Some were crying, others stood in stunned silence, but all of them bore the telltale signs of long captivity.

"How many?" I asked Kale as we moved through the maze of passages.

"Forty-three so far," he replied grimly. "Marcus has been busy."

Forty-three wolves stolen from their lives, locked away in darkness and despair. The scope of Marcus's crimes was staggering, and I wondered how many other facilities like this one existed.

But those were concerns for later. Right now, all that mattered was the solid warmth of Kale's arms around me, the bond humming with life between us, and the knowledge that my long nightmare was finally over.

I was free. Damaged, traumatized, and forever changed by what I'd endured, but free.

And for the first time in five years, that felt like enough.