Questioning
1156 Words
The walk back to the pack house stretched longer than it should have. Each step felt heavier, as if the weight of the forest clung to my bones, refusing to let go. The adrenaline from the chase had faded, leaving behind a sharp awareness that settled deep in my chest.
An intruder this far into our territory was no mistake.
It was a message.
Kayleigh paced beneath my skin, restless, her irritation still buzzing from the fight.
We should have ended him in the clearing.
No, I answered, steady but firm. Dead wolves tell no stories.
She huffed, but didn’t argue further. She knew as well as I did—this wasn’t just about instinct anymore. This was about control. About proving something far beyond the forest.
The dungeon doors loomed ahead, thick wood reinforced with iron. One of the guards pulled it open, and the familiar scent of damp stone, rust, and old fear poured out to greet me. It curled around my senses, heavy and suffocating.
I used to hate this place.
When my mate was alive, I never had to come down here. He handled it all—the interrogations, the punishments, the decisions that lived in the darker corners of leadership. He had carried those burdens without hesitation, shielding me from them.
Now there was no one left to stand in front of me.
Now I was the one they looked to.
The thought settled uneasily.
Inside, the intruder had already been restrained. Heavy chains bound his wrists above him, forcing him into an uncomfortable kneeling position. He had shifted back into human form, his dark hair hanging in damp strands over his face, blood smeared across his skin. One eye was already swelling shut.
Still, when he lifted his head, there was nothing broken in his gaze.
Michael stood nearby, arms crossed, his posture rigid. The moment I stepped in, his eyes found mine.
“He hasn’t said anything useful,” he said. “No name. No pack. Nothing.”
I nodded once, but my focus never left the prisoner. “Leave us.”
Michael stiffened. “Luna—”
“Alpha,” I corrected, the word cutting clean through the air.
Silence fell.
It was still strange hearing it spoken—stranger correcting it. But if I let it slip here, if I allowed even small hesitations to stand, they would grow. Doubt spread quickly in a pack. I had already seen it in the glances, in the careful way some of them chose their words.
Michael’s jaw tightened, but he dipped his head. “Alpha.”
Better.
“I don’t think you should be alone with him,” he added.
Kayleigh bristled instantly, insult flashing hot.
I held my ground. “Then stand outside the door. If I need you, you’ll know.”
For a moment, I thought he might push back. Challenge me. The tension coiled between us, thick and sharp. But then he stepped back, giving a short nod to the guards.
The door shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Silence wrapped around the room, broken only by the slow drip of water somewhere deeper in the stone halls.
Then the prisoner laughed.
Low. Rough. Mocking.
I let it linger before speaking. “You find something funny?”
His head tilted slightly, his one good eye dragging over me. “You.”
Kayleigh snarled beneath the surface.
I stayed still. “Careful.”
“Why?” he asked, lips splitting into a bloody smile. “Because the grieving widow might bite?”
The words hit exactly where he wanted them to. My hands curled at my sides, nails biting into my palms. Pain grounded me.
He saw it.
And he pushed further.
“I expected your mate,” he continued. “That’s the name that still carries weight. Not the female he left behind.”
A growl slipped free before I could stop it—deep, dangerous, not entirely human.
He froze.
Good.
I stepped closer, slow and deliberate. “You came into my lands. You attacked me. And now you think you’re in a position to insult me?”
His throat bobbed, but his defiance held. “If you were secure in your place,” he said carefully, “my words wouldn’t matter.”
That one cut deeper.
For a brief, unwanted moment, my mate’s face surfaced in my mind. The strength he had carried. The certainty in every decision. No one had questioned him. No one had dared.
The pack had been solid then.
Unbreakable.
But that strength was gone.
And if I kept reaching for it—kept measuring myself against a ghost—I would never be enough in my own right.
Kayleigh’s voice softened.
Then stop standing in his shadow.
The thought settled, heavy but steady.
I moved forward until I stood directly in front of the prisoner, then crouched, forcing him to meet my gaze. “You’re right about one thing,” I said quietly. “I’m not my mate.”
His expression flickered.
“I don’t lead like him. I don’t grieve like him.” I tilted my head slightly. “And I certainly don’t forgive like him.”
His breathing hitched.
“So let’s try this again.” My voice dropped lower. “Who sent you?”
He looked away.
I grabbed his jaw, forcing his face back toward me. He hissed at the pressure.
“Who,” I repeated, “sent you?”
“No one,” he muttered. “I came alone.”
I hit him.
The c***k of my fist against his cheek echoed through the room, snapping his head back into the stone wall. Pain flared through my hand, but I didn’t care.
“Liar.”
He coughed, blood spilling from his mouth.
I stood slowly, looking down at him. Calm. Controlled.
“You didn’t come here alone. You didn’t cross borders, patrols, and ward lines without orders.” I folded my arms. “So I’ll ask one last time before I bring my beta back in and let him decide how patient he feels tonight.”
His breathing grew uneven.
“If I talk—”
“When,” I cut in.
He stared up at me.
“When you talk,” I said, “your death might actually mean something.”
The arrogance cracked.
Fear seeped through.
Good.
His voice trembled. “It wasn’t meant to be a kill order.”
Every muscle in my body stilled.
“Then what was it meant to be?”
He hesitated.
And in that hesitation, I saw it—the truth settling in before he spoke.
“A warning.”
Cold slid through me.
“For who?” I asked.
His gaze locked onto mine, fear sharpening. “For the widow who thinks she can keep the Alpha seat.”
Silence followed.
But this time, it wasn’t empty.
It was the sound of something beginning.
- Writer
