Tamed By My Alpha Step Brother

Chapter Eight

I stared at Damon, my heart pounding fast in my chest, the metallic tang of blood was thick in the air from the bodies he'd just dropped. His claws retracted as he wiped his hands on his shirt, that smirk still plastered on his face like he hadn't just decapitated Jax and ripped out hearts like it was nothing. The hall was chaos, elders whispering, warriors shifting uneasily, my father frozen in place. Lila was being dragged away by guards, kicking and screaming protests that no one cared about.

"Now, dear stepsister," Damon repeated, his voice was low and mocking as he stayed crouched at my level, his dark eyes locking onto mine like a predator sizing up prey. "What was that about me killing Tristan?"

I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to flinch from the blood smeared across his cheek.

Bold, Harper. Be bold. "You heard me," I snapped back, my voice steady even though my knees wanted to buckle. "His scent was all over you last night. Earthy, pine, metallic, like he'd bled out on you. You did it, didn't you? To clear your path to the Alpha seat. Admit it."

He chuckled, a cold, ruthless sound that sent chills down my spine, but there was something else in it, something electric that made my wolf stir, not in fear, but in challenge. He stood up slowly, towering over me, and tilted his head. "Admit what? That I wasted my time on a pathetic excuse for a wolf like him? Please. I've got better things to do."

My father finally unfroze, stepping forward with a growl. "Alpha, this is outrageous. Harper's accusations—"

"Shut your mouth, Collins," Damon cut him off without even glancing his way, his eyes still on me. "Or I'll shut it for you."

My father clamped his jaw shut, his face reddening, but he backed off. The elders murmured louder, but no one dared interrupt.

Damon circled me slowly, his presence was like a storm closing in. "You think I'd stoop to killing your mate? Harper, you're smarter than that. Or maybe not." He stopped in front of me again, leaning in close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath brushing my ear. "But since you're so eager for answers, I'll indulge you. Take her to my quarters. We'll have a private interrogation."

Two warriors grabbed my arms, hauling me up. I jerked against them, glaring at Damon. "Interrogation? For what? You just said you caught the killer!"

He waved a hand dismissively. "And I have. But you and I have unfinished business, stepsister. Move."

They dragged me out of the hall, my feet scraping the stone floor as I twisted to shout back at him. "This isn't over, Damon! You can't just—"

The doors slammed shut behind us, cutting me off. The warriors marched me through the pack house corridors, up twisting stairs to the Alpha's wing. I'd never been here before.... Damon's quarters were off-limits, a fortress of dark wood and iron. They shoved me inside a sparse room with a single chair bolted to the floor, chains dangling from it.

"Sit," one growled, forcing me down and locking the chains around my wrists and ankles.

I yanked at them, "You can't leave me like this!"

They ignored me, slamming the door shut. The lock clicked, and silence fell. Morning light filtered through a narrow window, casting long shadows. I sat there, fuming with my mind racing. He'd caught the killer? Then why the show in the hall? Why kill Jax, Marcus, and Vincent like that? And why drag me here?

Hours ticked by. The sun climbed higher, my stomach growled, but no one came. I shifted in the chair, the chains rattling. "Hello? Anyone out there?" I yelled, but nothing. Damon was doing this on purpose, making me wait, breaking me down.

Ruthless bastard.

By noon, I was pacing in my mind, replaying every interaction with him. That smirk, the way his eyes lingered on me, the spark when we clashed. It pissed me off how it made my pulse race.

No, focus, Harper.

He's f*****g playing you.

Afternoon dragged on. I dozed off once, jerking awake when the light started fading. Dusk crept in, the room started growing dim. My wrists ached from the chains and my throat was dry. Finally, the door creaked open.

Damon strode in, alone, carrying a tray with water and bread like some stupid room service. He set it on a table across the room, out of reach, and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His shirt was clean now, no blood, but his expression was ice-cold.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his tone was dripping sarcasm.

I glared up at him, rattling the chains. "Oh, yeah, five-star treatment. Unlock me, Damon. This is bullshit."

He didn't move. "Not yet. We talk first."

"Fine. Talk. Did you really catch Tristan's killer? Or was that just more of your games?"

He pushed off the wall, stalking closer. "Yes. I did."

I leaned forward as much as the chains allowed, my eyes narrowing at him. "Then why haven't you arrested them yet? Why haven't you paraded them in the hall like you did to me?"

He stopped right in front of me, his gaze boring into mine. "Because I wanted to handle it personally. To make sure there are no loose ends."

"Loose ends?" I scoffed, my voice was now rising. "You mean like how you smelled like him last night? Admit it, Damon, you killed Tristan. To screw me over, to take the pack without competition. It's all you, isn't it?"

He laughed again, that low, dangerous rumble. "Kill Tristan? Why would I bother with a worthless werewolf like him? Killing a housefly would be more rewarding. At least the fly might buzz annoyingly first."

My blood boiled. I surged against the chains, ignoring the bite into my skin. "He was my mate, you asshole! Not a housefly! He deserved better than whatever you did to him!"

Damon's eyes flashed with something—amusement? Heat? He crouched down again, same as in the hall, his face inches from mine. "Your mate? Pathetic. But fine, get offended. It changes nothing."

"Where is the killer, Damon?" I demanded, my voice was impatient and sharp. "Stop stalling and f*****g tell me!"

He reached out, his fingers brushed my chin and tilted my head up. The touch sent a jolt through me, it was unwanted but undeniable. "Oh, Harper. So bold, so demanding. I like that fire." His voice dropped, the ruthless edge sharpening. "The killer's right in front of me. It's you, sweetheart."

I froze, his words hanging in the air. My heart slammed against my ribs. "What?"

"You heard me." He stood, turning away slightly, but his eyes never left mine. "You killed Tristan."

The room spun.

No. That couldn't be. But then suddenly, flashes hit me.... arguments with Tristan, his hands on me, forcing... I shook my head, denying it. Or pretending to deny it. "You're lying."

"Am I?" He smirked, cold and unyielding. "Think about it, stepsister. The night he died. You were there. And I saw it all."

I yanked at the chains again, desperation was creeping in. This couldn't be true. "Saw what? I didn't—"

"You did." He stepped back, watching me unravel. "And now, we're going to talk about why. All night if we have to."

The door was still open behind him, but with the chains, I was trapped. His accusation echoed in my head, a cliff I was hanging on. If he was right... goddess, what had I done?