Claimed By The Ruthless Alpha Beast

3

CHAPTER 3: KILLIAN

“T-The blood Moon Vault?” Garrick stammered. His voice was thin and weak, sounding like he was dying.

I didn’t answer right away. Instead, I clamped my fingers down on Garrick’s wrist. I didn't just hold him; I squeezed until I could feel the bone beneath his skin start to groan. I leaned in, my shadow covering his entire body. “You know exactly what I am talking about, Garrick. You know the legend.”

“I don’t know what you’re…” He trailed off. His eyes darted to the side, then back to mine. Realization flooded into his gaze, making his pupils blow wide with terror.

I nodded, a slow, dark smile spreading across my face. My wolf was purring deep in my chest, enjoying the smell of his fear. “That’s right. Five years ago, Garrick. Five years ago, you were the lead hunter for the Northern Pack. You came into possession of quite a few sacred artifacts when you raided my father’s pack. Don’t you remember the night you betrayed your own kind?”

The fear on his face contorted into pure horror. Before, he didn't recognize me. He just thought I was some random monster who had broken into his fancy, modern mansion. He thought I was just a rogue who had tied him to his expensive chair in his dungeon. But now, he realized who he was truly up against. He finally saw the golden fire in my eyes that marked me as the rightful heir. I could see the fear flooding into his face, turning his skin a blotchy, ugly red.

I removed my hand from his wrist. I reached into my leather jacket and pulled out a pair of black gloves. I snapped them onto my hands slowly, one finger at a time. I took my time, letting the silence grow heavy. I wanted him to watch me. I wanted him to feel every second of the preparation as I got ready to tear the truth out of him.

Garrick wiggled uncomfortably in his seat, the ropes burning into his skin. “I don’t have any of those things anymore!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I sold them! I sold them the second I got back across the border. I didn't want the curse on my head!”

I reached into my other pocket. I didn't pull out a sword or a claw. Instead, I pulled out a small, silver-plated pistol. It was a human weapon—something a weak human would own just to look tough in front of his friends. It was insulting that a werewolf would even own such a thing, but it served my purpose perfectly. I knew Garrick didn't have any real experience with battle. He was a desk-wolf. To him, the sight of the cold metal was more terrifying than a set of teeth.

The human police in this city were lazy. They wouldn't look for wolf tracks. They would see a human with a gun in his hand and call it a suicide. It was the easiest explanation, and they always took the easy way out.

“You don’t need to use that,” Garrick said, his eyes glued to the gun as I wiped the barrel clean with a soft cloth. “We are both wolves, Killian! We are brothers!”

I shrugged, not even looking at him. “We’ll see about that, I guess. Brothers don't stab each other in the back for a bag of gold.”

“I sold the artifacts to a private collector!” Garrick screamed, the words jumbling together in his hurry to get them out. “The one you’re looking for... The Blood-Moon Vault... it isn't a place, Killian. It’s a map! A map hidden inside an ancient scroll. It’s probably still at the vault house where I sold it!”

I stopped wiping the gun. I tucked the cloth into my pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag. Inside was a tablespoon of fine, shimmering silver dust.

“What’s that for?” Garrick asked, staring at the bag with a fresh wave of panic.

You’re probably familiar with this stuff,” I replied, shaking the bag in front of his nose. For a human, this was just a drug. For a werewolf, silver dust was a slow, agonizing poison. It burnt the lungs and paralyzed the heart.

“Is that... silver?” he whispered, his face turning as white as a sheet.

“Jackpot,” I said.

“I’m telling you everything I know!” Garrick cried out, his voice grating against his throat. “I’m giving you the location! You don’t need to do this to me! Just let me walk away. I'll leave the country. I'll never show my face again!”

“Which vault house?” I asked, pinching the bag open. The air in the room suddenly felt sharp and metallic.

“The Dawn house in the Northern Territory! It’s an underground auction house for the rich and the supernatural. It’s hidden beneath the old cathedral in the city center.”

“The dawn house,” I repeated the name, making sure I would never forget it.

“Yes!” he shouted, nodding his head so hard his teeth chattered. “Please, Killian. I’ve told you everything. My mate is gone, my money is gone... just let me go.”

I paused for a moment. I looked deep into his eyes, reading every twitch of his muscles. I wanted to be absolutely sure he wasn't lying. I had spent too many years in the shadows to be thrown off my path now. I was so close to reclaiming my family’s legacy. I could almost feel the power of the Vault in my hands.

I smiled down at him. For a split second, Garrick’s face melted into a state of pure relief. He thought he had won. He thought he was going to live.

Then, I snapped my hand out. I grabbed him by the cheeks, my fingers sinking deep into his jaw. I yanked his head forward with a jerk. He gasped in shock, and I shoved the plastic bag of silver dust right under his nose.

“Take a deep breath, Garrick. Let it clear your mind." I said casually. “Don't fight it. It goes down much smoother if you just inhale.”

Garrick began to hyperventilate. As he inhaled, the silver dust entered his system. I watched him writhe in the chair. I felt nothing at all. I didn't even feel hate. I just felt the cold satisfaction of a job being finished. He had lived a life of luxury while my family suffered in the dirt.

I watched him inhale the dangerously high dose. It would make him feel like his veins were full of liquid fire. I wanted him to go out feeling exactly what he had put my pack through.

I removed the bag and sealed it shut. I tucked it back into my pocket as he began to cough and sneeze blood. His eyes were rolling back in his head. The silver was doing its work, eating him from the inside out.

“And now,” I said, stepping to the side and picking up the silver pistol. I pressed the cold barrel against his temple. “The world will see a drugged-up, miserable traitor who finally lost his mind.”

I didn't blink as I pulled the trigger. The sound was loud, but my heart stayed steady.

I turned and walked out of the room, leaving the past behind me. I had a map to find and a gallery to burn. My father’s spirit would finally have peace, and the Blood-Moon Vault would finally belong to a real Alpha.

The hunt was only beginning.