Seraphina- The Alpha's Murderer

Threats In Silence

The routine is set—until it isn’t. On the fifth day, Seraphina wakes to the sound of voices in the corridor, loud and unguarded. She flinches, expecting the guards, but when the door opens it is neither them nor Kael.

It’s Torvin.

He sweeps into the room like he owns the air. His coat is velvet, midnight blue, embroidered with silver. His eyes flick over the space, then settle on her, and the smile he offers is not kind. “So this is how they keep you,” he says, voice soft as honey. “Like a mongrel on a leash.”

Seraphina pushes herself up, uncertain whether to kneel or stand. She goes for kneeling. Kael has not yet appeared, but she knows he will. He always does.

Torvin drops into a crouch beside her. He brings with him the scent of rain and something sharper—expensive cologne, or maybe just the metallic tang of anticipation. In his hands is a basket. He sets it before her and peels back the cloth, revealing a stack of warm flatbread and a wedge of cheese.

“Eat,” he says, like it’s a gift.

She hesitates, wary of the trick. He picks up a piece of bread, breaks it in half, and puts it in her hand. His fingers are cool, dry, and linger for a beat too long. “You are not what I expected,” he says, and she hears the echo of Kael’s words from the night before.

She takes a bite. It’s good, too good. Her stomach cramps in surprise.

Torvin watches her eat, expression unreadable. When she finishes, he wipes her lips with a folded linen, the gesture intimate, almost mocking. “You heal fast, don’t you,” he murmurs, eyes on her bandaged palm. “That’s unusual, for your kind.”

She looks away. The mate bond is silent this morning, but she feels the memory of it, a pulse in the back of her mind.

The door clicks open. Kael enters, face like thunder. For a moment, all three are frozen, caught in a triangle of accusation and want.

Torvin stands, slow and deliberate. “Brother,” he says. “You look unwell.”

Kael ignores him. “You have no business here.”

“On the contrary,” Torvin says, moving to intercept. “With the death of our beloved Zen, there’s much to discuss. The packs are restless. They want answers, justice. I’m here to ensure the investigation is… fair.”

Kael’s eyes flick to Seraphina, then back. “You think I can’t handle my own affairs?”

Torvin smiles, flashing teeth. “I think you’re too close to the subject. Too emotionally compromised. If I’m to inherit the throne, I need to ensure stability. No more surprises.”

Kael’s hands curl into fists. “This is not your concern.”

Torvin raises his eyebrows, then glances back at Seraphina. “Everything here is my concern. Especially the prisoner.” He walks back to her, circles, and then kneels so they are eye to eye. “Tell me, little Omega, do you know why you’re still alive?”

She shakes her head, mute.

“Because my brother is old-fashioned. He believes in the mate bond. He thinks it makes you special.” He turns, facing Kael with a knowing look. “But not everyone shares his… sentimentalism. Some think the bond is a curse. That it drives us to madness. Makes us weak.”

Seraphina feels Kael’s anger in the room, thick and suffocating.

Torvin leans in, so close she can feel his breath on her cheek. “They’re going to kill you,” he whispers, “unless you give them what they want.”

She tries to pull away, but he catches her chin, hard. “Who helped you? Who let you into the Alpha’s chambers? You’re clever, but not that clever. Someone wanted Zen dead. Someone powerful.”

She shakes her head again, and Torvin lets go, almost gently.

“I believe you,” he says, standing. “But they won’t.”

Kael moves across the room in a blink. For a moment, he and Torvin are nose to nose, two predators circling the same wound. “You’ve said your piece. Leave.”

Torvin grins, hands raised. “Of course, brother. As you wish.” He turns at the door, pausing just long enough to let his words hang. “But remember: the other packs want blood. If you can’t deliver, they’ll take it from you.”

He sweeps out, leaving a chill behind.

Kael stands there, vibrating with rage. His eyes are darker than ever, veins standing out on his neck. He looks at Seraphina, and for a second she thinks he might snap. Instead, he sits on the bed and buries his head in his hands.

She inches closer, unsure. His breathing is ragged, desperate.

She does the only thing she knows how: she touches his shoulder, light as possible. The mate bond zings between them, sharp but sweet. Kael’s breathing evens, his hands dropping to his lap. He looks up at her, all the anger gone, replaced by something raw and bare.

They stay like that for a long time, the world outside forgotten.

Later, after Kael has retreated to the far side of the room, Seraphina sits with the basket of food in her lap. She picks through it, savoring each bite, but her eyes keep drifting back to Kael, who watches her with a new, unreadable expression.

He seems smaller, somehow. More human.

Neither speaks of Torvin, or of what comes next. They just share the silence, letting it fill the spaces between them.