Suprema: The Twin Alphas' Forsaken Queen

Chapter 4 - The Rouge Alpha's Fury 1

Nine days later,

Thorne Pack,

Rylan Swift's POV

The heavy iron-reinforced door to the old infirmary annex was finally in sight. My exhaustion from two days of butchery on the front line vanished, replaced by a fierce, electric energy.

Every muscle in my body ached, my skin had been layered in demon soot and dried gore, but the only thought that had kept the soul-crushing cold of the trenches from claiming me was the hope of seeing Elara.

I carried my meager treasures like they were made of gold: a thick clean fur blanket I'd scavenged, a pouch of rare sweet berries and honey buns I had traded my last three nights' rations for, and a stolen bottle of expensive amber ginger beer... perfect for a private picnic.

I wanted to surprise her with a moment of peace, to see that small rare light in her eyes that only appeared when we were alone.

She deserved it - gods, she deserved a lifetime of peace after the daily, grinding humiliation she endured under Thorne's roof.

I pushed the door open, a tired grin tugging at my scarred lips.

"Elara!" I called out, my voice low and hopeful. "I brought you a surprise, little witch! We survived that hell-hole at the breach thanks to your poultices, and you're taking a day off."

The silence made the smile on my face to instantly die. The shed was empty.

My heart seized, slamming hard against my ribs with a sudden sickening jolt. The thick earthy mix of Nightshade, drying herbs, and her signature scent was there, but it was cold, stagnant, and old.

The mortar and pestle lay abandoned on the stone table, and a half-finished poultice was drying into a cracked useless husk.

Elara never left her work. She was obsessive about her duties, clinging to that servitude like a life raft in a storm.

A cold dread, sharp and absolute, gripped my gut. She wouldn't leave this sanctuary unless she was ordered out, or dragged.

The last memory I had of her was nine days ago - her standing stiffly in the assembly hall.

I dropped the supplies; the bottle of ginger beer shattered against the stone, and the sweet berries scattered like drops of blood across the floor.

I didn't stop to think as I ran. My warrior instinct took over, driven by the frantic, terrifying knowledge that she was the only piece of home, the only piece of sanity, I had left in this world.

I moved through the back corridors toward the main compound, my boots thundering against the stone. I was heading for her cramped windowless servant's room when a burst of high-pitched spiteful laughter stopped me dead in my tracks.

It came from the kitchens. Two maids were scrubbing a massive cauldron, their voices carrying clearly in the quiet afternoon air, dripping with a casual horrifying cruelty.

"...and you should have seen her face when Lady Lyra started scratching! The rogue just stood there like a statue. I heard she was flogged until she couldn't scream. I think she's still tied up in the dungeons..."

"Hanging from the beam, you mean? My cousin saw them haul her to the south storage room. Alpha Thorne said she was to be beaten black and blue and left until she confessed to poisoning the food. About time someone put that stray in her place."

My muscles froze. The cold dread was instantly incinerated, replaced by a searing, white-hot wolf rage so intense it threatened to force the shift right there in the narrow corridor.

Hanging. Beaten. Elara.

"I can't believe it's been nine days since they left her there," the first maid whispered, her voice bubbling with a sick sort of excitement.

"Everyone knows she was jealous. The Alpha brings home a beautiful pure Alpha to be his Bond Mate, and the rogue trash tried to kill her because Kaelen hasn't looked at her twice."

"She deserves to rot. Alpha Thorne said she was trying to hide behind an 'allergy' to avoid the executioner."

The world narrowed to a dark tunnel of absolute violence.

Nine days...!!!!

I did not pause, as I allowed only the purest most corrosive rage to guide me. I turned and sprinted toward the storage rooms - the unofficial frozen holding cells reserved for those the Alpha wanted to break in private.

I didn't slow down when I reached the reinforced wooden door. I hit it with my shoulder, unleashing the explosive power of my strength, splintering the heavy oak frame with a sound like a lightning strike.

I burst into the suffocating, freezing darkness. Two guards - Betas from the day shift - were huddled in the corner, gambling. They looked up, their faces shifting from boredom to sheer terror as they saw the monster in the doorway.

"Hey! You can't be in..."

I gave them no chance for a protest. My shift was instantaneous and brutal. My clothes tore away as black fur ripped through my skin, transforming me into the midnight-black werewolf the Pack whispered about in hushed tones.

A low, terrifying roar ripped from my chest as I moved with the speed of a nightmare. I slammed the first Beta into the stone wall so hard the masonry and bones cracked. Their screams were short, swallowed by the thick walls. They were responsible for her agony, and their blood was the only currency I would accept.

I shifted back, my chest heaving. The primal urge demanded more blood, but then, I smelled her.

She was hanging limply from a thick wooden beam near the ceiling. A dark thin silhouette against the light filtering from the shattered door. Her wrists were bound with crude rough ropes that had chewed through her skin to the bone. She was as still as a corpse.

"Elara!"

I scrambled onto a stack of crates, my hands shaking as I ripped the hunting knife from my belt. Up close, the horror was a physical blow. I saw the raw torn flesh of her shoulders where the joints had been pulled, the deep ugly purple bruising spreading across her ribs from the beatings.

I sliced the rope in a single motion.

Her body dropped instantly, heavy and lifeless, and I caught her, the sudden weight knocking the wind out of me.

I sank to my knees on the cold floor, cradling her to my chest. Her skin was freezing, sticky with dried blood and the salt of old tears. Her lips were a haunting shade of blue. She was half-dead, a devastating fragile weight against my heart.

I gently lifted her, shielding her bruised face with my hand, and carried her out. I walked straight past the two crumpled unconscious guards without a second glance. My face, when I stepped back into the daylight of the corridor, was a mask of cold vengeance.

And then, the air cracked. The sharp, suffocating scent of cedar hit me like a physical wall.

I stopped because the corridor was suddenly flooded with hostile authority. Kaelen Thorne stood there, rigid, flanked by the Captain of the Guard and three armed soldiers. My gaze snapped to the Alpha, then to the woman tucked securely under his arm.

The rumors were true. It was Lyra Vane. The scent - the underlying trace of jasmine and rice wine from our childhood - was unmistakably hers. Yet she stood there, looking up at me with wide, panicked, and completely unrecognizing eyes.

"Rylan!" Kaelen's voice was a low snarl of pure, toxic venom. "Drop that b***h and bow! You have assaulted my guards and destroyed my property. You are lucky I don't execute you where you stand."

I held Elara tighter, feeling her shallow, fluttering heartbeat against my skin. The wolf inside me was demanding I unleash my power and tear Kaelen's throat out for what he had done to our kin.

"You left her hanging," I stated, my voice raw and vibrating with a fury that made the stones under my feet tremble. "You tortured her for a lie."

Lyra gasped dramatically, clutching Kaelen's arm, playing the role of the fragile victim with sickening perfection.

"Alpha Thorne! Is this the rogue grunt the maids told me about?" she whispered. "The one obsessed with the cook? I was warned they were lovers, that they came from the same rogue pack. Look at him - it's obvious. He's the reason she tried to kill me."

My jaw locked as gasps of horror echoed through the corridor.

Lovers?

The lie was a masterstroke. It shielded our blood bond, but the sight of Lyra - the sister who should have remembered us - using that lie to condemn Elara was a knife in my gut.

"Elara isn't my lover... You know that Thorne!" I rebutted, the words feeling weak and thin.

Kaelen's eyes narrowed, sweeping over me and the broken girl in my arms. The flicker in his gaze wasn't just disgust; it was something hot, possessive, and dangerously insecure. He saw a warrior claiming a woman, and his Alpha pride couldn't handle the challenge.

"Lovers or friends, it makes no difference," Kaelen bit out, his voice sharp and final. "You're touching what is mine. Drop her and surrender, grunt."

"She isn't mine to surrender, and she certainly isn't yours to break," I growled, stepping forward until the tips of the guards' spears brushed my chest.

I felt the heat of my own power rising, the secret I'd kept for a decade clawing at my throat. I couldn't tell him we were Vanes but I could stop the 'lover' narrative that would see us both executed for treason.

I looked Kaelen dead in the eye, my voice dropping to a gravelly, undeniable roar that shook the light fixtures in the hall.

"You want to know why I'm holding her? You want to know why I'd burn this castle to the ground to keep her safe?"

The guards hesitated, sensing the shift in the air. Even Kaelen stilled, his obsidian eyes searching mine for the truth.

"She isn't my lover, Thorne," I stated, the words heavy as lead. "She is my sister."

The silence that followed was absolute.

I watched the color drain from Kaelen's face. I saw the Captain of the Guard's grip on his sword slacken. In the Lycan world, blood was sacred. A warrior's sister was under the protection of the entire Pack's honor code. To torture the sister of a high-ranking commander while he was fighting on the front lines was a crime that bordered on sacrilege.

"Your... sister?" Kaelen whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.

"My blood," I snarled, pulling Elara closer, her head resting in the hollow of my shoulder.

"I allowed to be her here so that she could be safe. I let her work in the kitchens to keep her out of the politics of this cesspit. And while I was spilling my blood to protect your borders, you were spilling hers in a dark room over a plate of venison."

I took another step, my chest pressing against the spears, forcing the guards to move or kill me.

"You want to talk about property, Alpha? This is my kin. And by the laws of the old ways, I am claiming her by Blood-Right. I am taking her to the infirmary, and if a single one of your men tries to stop me, I will consider it a declaration of war against the Bark Night Squad."

Kaelen looked at me, then at the bruised, blue-lipped girl in my arms, and finally at Lyra, who had gone remarkably silent. The shift in power was instantaneous. I wasn't just a grunt anymore; I was a brother with a grievance that could tear his kingdom apart.

"Like I said, it makes no difference," Kaelen bit out, his voice sharp and final. "You're touching what is mine. Drop her and surrender, grunt."