Chapter 5 - Rhea
1686 Words
Rain drips from my hair into my eyes, stinging like acid.
The world tilts.
My wolves stand on the ridge, weapons raised—not at the Vargheist men, not at Slade—but at me.
For a moment I can’t move. The scent of wet earth and gun oil blurs with disbelief. Holly’s bow creaks beside me; Acker stumbles to her side, eyes huge.
The lead soldier steps forward. Connor—third in command. Solid. Reliable. Until now.
He looks at me like I’m already dead to him.
“Alpha Robur,” he says, voice hoarse. “By order of the Council, you’re under arrest for treason.”
Treason. The word drops like lead.
Behind me, Slade shifts, pistol half-raised. “That’s not possible. She just saved your hides—”
Connor doesn’t look at him. “Stand down, omega.”
My wolf bristles at the word, at the way he spits it, like it’s something unclean.
Slade’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t lower the gun.
I take one slow breath, then another, and step forward. “Connor. What’s the charge?”
“Unauthorized alliance with a known Vargheist asset. Harboring an enemy of the pack.”
I glance back at Slade. His eyes meet mine—steady, defiant—but there’s a flicker there, something small and bleak. “They’re calling you the enemy.”
He smiles without humor. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Council doesn’t understand the situation,” Holly says sharply. “They didn’t see—”
“Enough!” Connor snaps. “You’re all witnesses. Don’t make this worse.”
As if this isn’t already the worst night of my life.
My wolf growls low, furious. Challenge.
But the pack outnumbers us ten to one. They’re my wolves; I trained them. I know exactly how fast they’ll shoot if they think I’ve turned.
I raise my hands slowly. “You want me alive, or dead?”
Connor flinches. “Alive, of course. Council’s orders.”
Slade shifts closer to my back, the brush of his shoulder grounding me. “And if she refuses?”
Connor’s rifle lifts a fraction. “Then we use silver.”
I hear the click of safeties around us—fifty tiny betrayals in perfect unison.
Holly swears under her breath. “Alpha—”
“No.” I lift a hand to stop her. “We’re done fighting each other.”
“Rhea,” Slade murmurs.
I look over my shoulder. He’s pale from the heat and the blood loss he won’t admit, but the line of his body is steady, protective. Always between me and danger, even when I am the danger.
“Trust me,” I whisper.
“Don’t ask me for that.”
“I just did.”
I step forward, letting the wolves close ranks around me. Rain beads on their visors. The nearest lowers a pair of iron cuffs, silver-laced. The stink of them makes my stomach turn.
I extend my wrists. The metal bites like acid, burning deep. My wolf slams against my ribs, raging, but I hold still.
“Easy,” Connor mutters. “It’s just until the Council—”
“I know what it is.”
They take my weapons and strip my comms. Holly tries to follow; two soldiers block her path.
“She’s not a prisoner,” Acker shouts. “She’s your Alpha!”
Connor’s mouth twists. “Not anymore.”
Slade moves. He doesn’t lunge, doesn’t shout—just steps once into the circle and every weapon instantly swings to him.
“Let her go,” he says, voice low and lethal. “You think she’s your enemy, but she’s the only reason you’re breathing.”
“Step back,” Connor orders.
Slade doesn’t. The wolves shift uneasily; none of them want to fire first. They can smell what he is—omega, yes, but forged from something sharp.
I meet his eyes. “Slade. Enough.”
He hesitates. The bond between us burns hot, pulling taut, electric, making us both gasp. Then he exhales, jaw working. Slowly, he lowers the gun.
“Good,” I say softly. “Now stay alive until I come back.”
“You assume I’ll let them take you.”
“I assume you’ll make smarter choices than me.”
He almost smiles, but his eyes don’t soften. “Interesting theory.”
The soldiers march me up the ridge. The silver cuffs scrape my skin raw. Each step feels heavier, not from pain but from betrayal. My pack’s scent surrounds me—familiar and foreign at once. Wolves I trained, wolves who used to howl my name with pride.
Now their silence is a noose.
The convoy waits at the ridge road—three armored trucks painted with our crest. Lightning flashes over the forest, turning the logo silver-white.
They shove me into the middle truck. Slade starts forward—instinct—but Holly grips his arm.
“Don’t,” she hisses. “Not yet.”
The door slams, cutting them off.
Inside, two guards sit across from me, rifles resting on their knees. One can’t quite meet my eyes. Good. I hope he remembers this shame forever.
The truck jolts into motion, bumping down the road toward the compound.
Outside, the forest fades to blur. I stare out the tiny window, trying not to feel the bond tugging in my chest—the faint echo of Slade’s heartbeat somewhere beyond the trees. It’s still there, steady and stubborn.
Stay alive, I think. Don’t come after me.
But deep down, I know he will.
The Council compound squats in the valley like a fortress, stone walls, iron gates, no warmth. We stop under the floodlights. The guards haul me out and march me through the main hall. Wolves line the corridors, whispering. I hear the words traitor, alpha’s curse, omega lover.
The Council chamber smells of old smoke and power. Six elders sit behind the curved table, robes dark, eyes brighter than torches.
“Rhea Robur,” says the head elder, Darius. His voice is soft and cold, the kind of tone you use for dissecting insects. “You stand accused of collusion with Vargheist forces, concealment of a fugitive, and endangerment of the pack.”
“Fugitive,” I echo. “You mean the man who saved your border from a massacre.”
Murmurs ripple. Darius raises a hand for silence. “You admit he was Vargheist.”
“I admit he was. They rejected him, branded him, left him for dead.”
“Yet you brought him into our territory.”
“I brought him into my command.”
“That distinction may cost you your rank.”
“Then you can have it,” I snap. “Because without him, none of us would have a pack left to argue about.”
The words land like thrown knives. Darius leans forward, eyes narrow. “You speak boldly for one in chains.”
“I earned the right.”
“Your father once said the same.”
The name hits like a slap. My voice turns to steel. “Leave him out of this.”
“Impossible. He made the same mistake—trusting an outsider. It cost half our wolves their lives.”
My hands tremble against the cuffs. “You have no idea what this war costs.”
He stands. “Enough. Until the Council decides your fate, you’ll remain confined. Guards—”
The door behind him bursts open.
Rain and wind tear through the chamber.
Slade stands in the doorway, dripping water, weapon raised. Two guards lie unconscious at his feet.
The entire Council freezes.
“Rhea stays with me,” he says quietly. “Or none of you leave this room.”
Darius laughs, not kindly. “You think you can walk into our hall and issue threats, omega?”
Slade steps closer. His voice stays calm, deadly. “Try me.”
“Stand down,” I whisper, heart slamming.
He ignores me. His eyes are locked on Darius. “You want proof she didn’t betray you? Ask your own techs. Check the ridge. The Vargheist relay’s gone. She blew it sky-high while your Council was hiding behind its gates.”
A flicker of unease ripples through the room.
Darius gestures. “Take him.”
The guards move—but Slade’s already there, disarming the first, flipping the rifle, aiming without hesitation. The wolf nearest him freezes, hands up.
I shout, “Stop! Everyone stop!”
The command rings with Alpha power, even through the silver cuffs. It freezes the room. For a heartbeat, no one breathes.
Then Darius snarls. “You see? Even now she defends him.”
“She defends truth,” Slade says. “You’re just too craven and cowardly to see it.”
A gunshot cracks the air.
Not his.
Not mine.
Darius staggers—blood blooming dark across his shoulder.
Every weapon in the room snaps toward Slade.
He hadn’t fired. I saw his finger—off the trigger, frozen.
But it doesn’t matter.
Because whoever did is gone, the shot’s echo swallowed by the storm outside, and now a dozen rifles are trained on the man fate tied to me.
“Drop it,” someone yells. “Drop the gun!”
Slade looks at me, calm in the chaos. “I didn’t—”
“I know.”
But the guards are closing in.
And as they seize him, shoving him to the floor beside me, I see the realization on every face in the room—this was no accident.
Someone wanted the Council in chaos. Someone fired to make sure no one ever believed in us again.
Darius slumps, bleeding. The hall erupts.
And above the noise, a single alarm begins to wail—low, metallic, unrelenting.
Slade looks up at me, blood on his cheek, breath ragged. “That’s not a warning siren,” he says. “It’s a detonation countdown.”
The sound rises. One long note of doom.
Then the floor trembles.
To be continued…
- Writer
