His Mate-Killer's Fate

Chapter 2: Salvation

*Kalen's POV*

The words "I'll take her" came out before I could stop them.

Every face in the circle turned toward me, including hers. Those blue eyes of hers looked at me with shock and confusion.

My wolf moved within me with satisfaction. Finally getting what he had been waiting for.

I stepped into the circle. I let them see exactly who was making this claim. The whispers started right away. My reputation went everywhere before me.

Alpha Thompson's face went pale. He stepped forward with his hands up.

"Alpha Drakov," he said carefully. His voice was filled with respect. "I don't understand. This woman is cursed. Dangerous. Surely you don't want to bring such darkness into your pack."

I let the silence stretch. I watched him squirm. Thompson was weak. Always had been. His pack showed that weakness in every way.

"Are you questioning my judgment, Alpha Thompson?"

The temperature seemed to drop at my words. I felt his pack members flinch.

"No, of course not," Thompson said quickly. Sweat formed on his forehead despite the cool night. "I just... why would you want her?"

I looked at the woman again. I let my gaze move over her with cold calculation. She needed to believe what I was about to say. They all did.

"The peace treaty we discussed," I said. My voice echoing across the silent crowd. "Your offerings were inadequate. Weak wolves. Damaged goods. Nothing worth my time or alliance."

Thompson's face turned red with anger he didn't dare show. "Alpha Drakov, we offered our finest—"

"Your finest were pathetic." I cut him off with casual cruelty. "But this one... she'll serve a purpose. My pack can always use more slaves. And if she's as cursed as you claim, she won't be missed if she doesn't survive the work."

The lie tasted bitter, but it was necessary. Let them think I wanted her for labor. Let them believe I was cruel enough to work a broken woman to death.

It was better than the truth that she is the key to my salvation.

*****

~Three hours earlier~

I stood at the edge of Stormwolf territory. I was ready to move on from Thompson and his weak pack. The negotiations had been a waste of three days. Nothing he offered was worth the alliance he desperately wanted.

"The cars are ready, Alpha," Rowland said beside me. "We can be home by dawn."

I nodded and started to turn away. The sooner I left this pathetic territory, the better. My wolf had been restless during the entire visit. It paced under my skin like a caged animal. The curse was getting stronger. Being around so many foreign wolves made it worse.

Then the screaming started.

I could hear howls of horror echoing through the evening air. They came from deep within the pack grounds.

My wolf suddenly stopped pacing and went completely still.

"Turn back and go there," it demanded with an intensity that made me pause.

"What! Why?" I shot back mentally. "Their problems aren't our concern."

"Go there," he repeated, more forcefully this time. "Now."

The pulling in my chest was unlike anything I had felt before. My wolf never cared about other packs' drama. He had never shown interest in anything except hunting, fighting, and our slowly weakening strength, due to the curse.

So why is it so agitated now?

Against my better judgment, I turned back toward the pack grounds. I followed the noise.

What I found was complete pandemonium. Pack members stood in a circle, shouting about curses and killers and dark magic. In the center knelt a young woman. Her hands were stained with blood. She held the lifeless body of what had clearly been her mate.

The moment I saw her, my wolf went silent. Then it began to pace again. But differently this time. With purpose and recognition.

"Her," he said simply.

"What about her?" I demanded, studying the scene more carefully.

She was beautiful, even in her devastation. Brown hair fell in waves around her face. She had an athletic build that spoke of warrior training. But there was something else. There was a strength in the way she held herself, even as her world crumbled around her.

"She killed her mate," I observed.

"She spilled mate blood," my wolf corrected.

Suddenly, the pieces began falling into place.

The ancient curse that had been slowly killing me for months. The texts my grandmother had forced me to memorize before she died. The ritual that required something no pure wolf could provide. The blood moon sacrifice.

I breathed.

"She's the only one who can perform it," my wolf confirmed. "Pure wolves can't spill mate blood. It goes against everything we are. But her..."

"She's already been touched by death," I finished. "She can break what others cannot."

I watched as Thompson and his council turned on her. Calling her cursed. Demanding her death or banishment. They had no idea what they were throwing away. The one wolf in existence who could save me.

She was perfect. Damaged enough to be available. Desperate enough to be controlled. And completely unaware of her true value.

"Claim her," my wolf urged. "Before they destroy her. Before they destroy our only chance at survival."

******

~Present~

Thompson's relief was pathetic and obvious. "Of course. Yes, that would be... acceptable. The treaty in exchange for the cursed one."

He was practically bowing now. So eager to be rid of his problem that he would hand her over to anyone. Even me. Especially me.

"The arrangement is acceptable," I said with a dismissive nod. "Rowland."

My Beta stepped forward immediately, reading my tone perfectly.

"Prepare her for transport," I ordered. "We leave immediately."

The woman, I didn't even know her name yet, stepped back as Rowland approached. Her facial expression had this mix of fear, confusion, and a grief so deep it made my wolf whine softly.

She opened her mouth as if to speak. But I had already turned away. I wouldn't give her the chance to plead or question. This transaction was complete.

I walked to the edge of the clearing. Behind me, I heard Rowland's quiet voice talking to her. Thompson's relieved, muttering to his council about being rid of their burden.

My wolf stirred restlessly as we put distance between ourselves and her.

"She's ours now," he said with satisfaction.

"She's a tool," I corrected. "Nothing more."

But even as I thought about it, I could still sense her. Something about her called to parts of me I thought were long dead. I couldn't afford to see her as anything more than the key to breaking my curse.

The blood moon was months away. Until then, she would live in my pack, under my protection, preparing for the ritual that would determine if she would be my salvation or a waste of time and the death of me.