Chapter 9 The Dying Alpha
645 Words
The moment I stepped through the black iron gate of Stormfang Castle, the cold, deathly silence swallowed me whole.
No servants wandered the halls. No wolf guards patrolled the corridors. The entire fortress was wrapped in a heavy, oppressive stillness, as if the whole pack already knew their Alpha was standing at the edge of death.
My lunar magic trembled violently against my skin, screaming that Ronan’s life thread was fraying faster by the second.
I moved silently through the familiar stone hallway, my bare feet making no sound against the cold floor. At the end of the royal chamber corridor, two elite guards stood rigid on duty, their eyes red and exhausted from guarding their dying leader all night.
They blocked my path the second I appeared.
“The runaway half-blood is not allowed inside the royal wing,” one guard growled, claws half-extended. “By the Alpha’s former order, you are forbidden to approach him.”
“I am the only one who can save him.” My voice was steady, silver light flickering faintly at my fingertips. “Move aside, or he dies within the hour.”
The guards hesitated, conflict flashing across their faces. They remembered the ancient prophecy—only the Moon Maiden could suppress the blood curse. After a brief silence, they lowered their claws and stepped apart, bowing their heads in helpless obedience.
I pushed open the tall carved wooden door of Ronan’s chamber.
The room was dim, thick with the cold metallic scent of curse poison. Ronan lay motionless on the royal bed, his chest rising and falling in shallow, ragged breaths. His skin was as pale as snow, black curse veins crawling wildly across his neck and forearms, spreading toward his heart.
His golden eyes were closed, his usual domineering aura completely gone. He looked fragile, broken, a man slowly drowning in a century-old deadly curse.
The mate bond between us throbbed mournfully the moment I walked in.
I approached the bed slowly, my heart tightening painfully. This was the same man who locked me in the dungeon, who believed fake evidence over my words, who broke my heart with cold judgment.
Yet right now, he was dying.
I knelt beside him, placing my glowing silver palm gently over his cursed chest.
Warm lunar power flowed from my body into his veins, burning away the black curse mist little by little. The writhing dark veins under his skin faded slowly, and his ragged breathing gradually calmed.
Under the soft moonlight spilling through the window, Ronan’s eyelids fluttered open.
His golden gaze was hazy, weak with fever, but it locked instantly onto my face.
“Layla…” His voice was hoarse, barely audible. “You came back.”
I did not answer, continuing to channel my magic without emotion.
He lifted a trembling hand, brushing his cold fingertips against my cheek. The touch was light, desperate, full of regret he could no longer hide.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered brokenly. “I wronged you. I let jealousy and lies blind me… I hurt the only person fate gave me.”
My throat tightened, but I pulled my face away from his touch.
“The curse is only temporarily suppressed,” I said coldly. “I did not come back to forgive you. I came back to stop Mia from destroying the pack and killing everyone. Once the truth is exposed, we will go our separate ways.”
Ronan’s eyes dimmed instantly, deep sorrow flooding his weakened features.
The mate bond screamed in agony between us—he wanted to hold me, to beg for forgiveness, to erase all the pain he had caused.
But I stood up, stepping away from the bed, drawing a clear line between the savior and the sinner.
Outside the chamber door, soft, icy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
Mia had arrived.
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