Chapter 11
1089 Words
VALIK POV
Not with rage.
With precision.
One punch to the jaw. Two to the ribs. A knee into his gut that folded him over. He gagged, spit and blood streaking down his chin.
Still no panic. Still no submission.
I leaned down until my mouth was near his ear. “You’re not prey or wolf,” I whispered. “Prey breaks. Wolves submit. You’re something else.”
His breathing hitched.
That—finally—was something.
I watched his pupils constrict. The tiniest tremor at his wrist where iron bit into skin.
I straightened and hit him again, harder this time.
His head snapped back. The chair groaned. The restraints strained.
He made a sound—half laugh, half choke.
“Waste,” he hissed.
I hit him once more.
He went slack.
His head lolled.
Unconscious.
The room was silent except for my breathing.
Zach stared at me, chest rising and falling. “He didn’t give anything.”
“No,” I said, wiping blood off my knuckles onto my palm. “He wanted to see how far I’d go.”
“And?”
I looked at the unconscious face. “Not far enough.”
That wasn’t pride.
It was frustration.
I stepped out, shutting the door behind me.
The corridor swallowed the sound.
Zach followed, voice lower now. “You’re thinking about her.”
I didn’t deny it.
“She’s the center,” I said. “Even when she’s not here.”
Zach’s gaze hardened. “Then we need the other one.”
We moved to the second room.
The prisoner inside sat straight-backed, hands restrained to the rings on the table. He was smaller than the first—lean, sharp-featured, eyes too bright. The kind of man who survived by being clever, not strong.
He smiled when the door opened, like he’d been waiting for me specifically.
“Alpha,” he said smoothly. “You look… restless.”
I stepped in and didn’t sit.
He watched my hands—still stained.
His smile tightened at the edges.
Then continued with a sigh, voice mild, “He always was too proud.”
Zach shut the door behind us, the sound heavy.
I now knew these two didn’t have instincts. Not like our own kind.
The dominance of an Alpha and Beta meant nothing to them.
So I used a different tactic.
I stared at the prisoner until his smile began to falter.
“You hunted a lone wolf,” I said.
Something flickered in his eyes—interest, maybe. Recognition.
He recovered fast.
“Oh?” he said. “Is that beast still alive?”
My wolf surged.
The prisoner felt it—shoulders tensing, breath shortening—but he tried to mask it with a scoff.
“Don’t,” I warned quietly.
He smiled again, forcing confidence. “Don’t what? Kill me? I assume you want information.”
“I want truth.”
He leaned forward as far as the restraints allowed. “Truth is expensive.”
Zach made a sound—disgust.
The prisoner’s gaze slid to him. “Your Beta has the temper. You have the ambition.” He looked back at me. “We can be useful to each other.”
I let silence hang.
And he took the bait.
“Here’s the thing,” he said, voice soft. “You want answers. I want to leave this mountain alive.” He tapped a finger against the iron ring as if it annoyed him. The red on his skin deepening. “You release me, and I tell you what you want.”
I took one step closer.
He swallowed, but held my gaze.
“What makes you think,” I asked, “you have leverage.”
His smile sharpened. “Because you’re here. And a good Alpha protects his pack. The information I have will help with that.”
The words hit like a blade.
Zach moved, quick and furious.
I held up a hand and he froze instantly.
The prisoner exhaled like he’d won something.
“You’re smarter than your Beta,” he said.
I stared at him until he started to look uncertain.
Then I nodded once, slow, as if conceding.
His eyes brightened.
“Talk,” I said. “And maybe you walk.”
Zach’s gaze snapped to me.
I didn’t look at him. Not yet.
The prisoner leaned back, satisfied. “Good. Good. We’re not enemies, Alpha. Just… professionals.”
My wolf snarled at the word.
“Who hired you,” I asked.
He tilted his head. “Names cost more.”
“Then start smaller,” I said, voice controlled. “Why her.”
He smiled. “Because she’s different.”
Different could mean anything.
It could mean orphan.
It could mean rogue.
It could mean—
My jaw tightened.
“What,” I repeated, “does different mean.”
He lifted his shoulders, feigning helplessness. “It means someone wanted her dead.”
“Someone,” Zach echoed, ice in his voice.
The prisoner’s smile slid toward smug again. “You’ll get your someone. But first, I need a guarantee.”
I stepped closer until my shadow covered the table.
He looked up at me, and his breath caught—just a fraction.
“What guarantee,” I asked, voice low.
“That I leave,” he said simply. “That you won’t—” his eyes flicked to my hands again, “—do whatever you did to my partner.”
“You want my word,” I said.
“Yes.”
I let the silence stretch again. He shifted in his chair, discomfort creeping in under his bravado.
I could smell it on him now—the wrongness under his scent, and something else. Not fear. Not yet.
Anticipation.
He thought he was winning.
He thought wolves were predictable.
I nodded once. “You have my word that if you tell me what I need, you won’t die in this room.”
Relief flashed through him, quick and greedy. “Good.”
Zach’s eyes narrowed, but he held his tongue.
The prisoner wet his lips. “We were paid to intercept her. To make sure she didn’t reach you.”
“Reach me,” I repeated.
I didn’t buy it. The words were too quick, too certain. Like a script.
He smiled. “Yes. You’re important, Alpha. You didn’t know that?”
My wolf pressed forward, offended.
Mock praise.
Pathetic.
“Who paid you,” I asked again.
He hesitated.
Then he started talking.
- Writer
