Chained to the Alpha

A Trap For The Rogue

The mist had burned off by mid‑morning, leaving the yard bright, but I still felt the weight of Sila’s gaze like a shadow between my shoulder blades. I walked back toward my quarters, every muscle in my body aching, with Vane’s small blade tucked safely by my side. I expected quiet, perhaps servants were moving about, I found the door standing slightly ajar.

At first glance, nothing looked out of place. The fire still smoldered in the hearth, the tapestries hung straight, and the heavy table still held the remains of the morning meal. But my nose caught the change instantly. Beneath the usual scents of pine and stone lingered a faint, sharp sweetness I knew all too well, wolfsbane. And beneath that, unmistakable, was Sila’s scent.

I stepped carefully, scanning every corner. The fresh water pitcher sat right where I had left it. Beside it lay a folded linen cloth, clean and soft, arranged as if placed there by someone.

I remembered her words clearly, I control the guards, and all the servants… I lifted the cloth by one corner. Underneath rested a small, unstopped vial, its pale liquid glinting in the light. Next to it lay a note written in elegant, slanted strokes.

Training makes you thirsty. Drink deep. I would not want the Alpha’s treasure to weaken before the fight begins.

No signature was needed. Her scent clung even to the ink.

I set it down gently. Wolfsbane in small doses slowed the shift and blurred your senses. In larger amounts, it stopped a heart. This was more than just discomfort, it was a trap. If I drank, I would fall ill and be helpless against whatever came next. If I refused, she would only find another way.

A soft scrape at the window made me spin around. The latch had been lifted from outside, simple enough for someone who knew exactly when the guards changed their patrol. A coil of thin, strong rope dangled just within reach, swaying gently in the draft.

Before I could examine it further, heavy footsteps echoed in the corridor. It was not Kael’s long, confident stride, nor Vane’s steady pace. Two guards pushed the door fully open, their faces blank and their eyes avoiding mine. Behind them, Sila drifted in like smoke, her red leathers gleaming, and the silver beads braided into her hair clicking softly with every step.

“Found something interesting?” she asked, her voice light, as if we were discussing the weather. Her gaze moved from the vial, to the open window, and finally settled back on my face.

“You left it,” I said, keeping my tone even as my hand rested near the hidden blade at my hip.

“I left help,” she replied, circling me slowly, just as she had before. But now there was no pretense of civility. “You saw how he looks at you. Like you are a puzzle he hasn’t decided to solve or smash. Today he corrected your stance. Tomorrow, perhaps he will decide the effort is not worth it.”

She stopped beside the pitcher, running a finger lightly along its rim. “Wolfsbane slows the beast. But fear kills the spirit faster. I simply gave you a choice. Drink and endure, or climb down that rope and run before the Shadow Claw arrives.”

“Run where?” I challenged her. “Do you think I am foolish enough not to know you have men waiting at the bottom? They will ‘find’ me ‘escaping’ and drive a blade through my heart before Kael even hears the alarm.”

Her smile sharpened into something cruel and ugly. “Smart little rat. But even smart things make mistakes.” She nodded toward the half‑open door. “Guards, close it. No one enters. Not even the Alpha, unless I say so.”

The wood slammed shut, and the heavy bar dropped into place.

“Kael will not thank you for hurting what he sees as his weakness,” I said, stepping back toward the hearth.

“Kael will thank me for protecting him from a mistake,” she snapped. She unclipped a short, serrated knife from her belt. “You think training changes anything? You are still what you were born, nothing. A rogue, a stain on his reign. I have stood beside him for years, fought beside him, bled beside him. You only exist because the Goddess played a cruel joke.”

She lunged, fast and practiced, holding nothing back.

I threw myself sideways, and the blade sliced through the air exactly where my shoulder had been a heartbeat before. I scrambled back to my feet, and my fingers closed tight around the iron hilt of the blade Vane had given me. I was not as fast, nor as skilled as she was, but I knew one thing Sila did not. I knew how to fight when you have nothing left to lose.

We circled the table, knocking over plates and goblets, sending food and wine spilling across the stone floor. Sila struck again, aiming higher this time for my throat. I ducked low and slammed the heavy wooden chair between us, buying myself just a few precious seconds. The bond gave me no warning here, because Sila was not part of it. Only Kael could reach me through that invisible thread, and right now he was nowhere near.

“Stop hiding behind furniture!” she snarled, kicking the chair aside as if it weighed nothing.

“Stop pretending this is about him,” I shot back. “It was never about Kael. It is about you. You cannot stand that something you did not earn stands above you.”

The words struck her. Her eyes blazed with pure rage. She came in low, feinting to the left before twisting sharply to the right, a trick I barely saw in time. Steel bit into my upper arm, and I felt warm blood seep instantly down my side.

Pain flared, but I did not freeze. I remembered Kael’s lesson, Do not lean back. I stepped forward into the space between us, using Sila’s own momentum against her. I caught her wrist in both hands and twisted hard until her fingers opened. The knife clattered loudly against the stone.

She gasped, thrown off balance, but before I could press my advantage, a heavy thud shook the door from outside. Then another, louder and heavier, impossible to ignore.

“Open this door.”

The voice roared through the wood, deep and thunderous, and I felt it in my bones. Kael.

Sila turned white in an instant. She snatched her arm back and stepped away as if she had been burned. In the space of three heartbeats, she transformed again, smoothing her leathers and fixing her hair, turning herself from a would‑be killer into the picture of calm and concern.

The bar lifted, and the door flew open.