Claimed By The Ruthless Alpha

Chapter Three: A Traitor Among Us

POV Alpha Morgan Vantor

"Say that again," I said.

My voice came out low. Dangerous. The kind of voice that made grown men step back.

Elara did not step back. She held my gaze, even though her hands were shaking at her sides.

"The man who hurt me wears your family crest," she said again. "On a ring. Silver, with a wolf head carved into it. I saw it every time he raised his hand."

My own ring sat heavy on my finger. The same crest. The same wolf.

"There are twelve men in my inner circle who wear that ring," I said. "I gave it to them myself. Each one has served this pack for years."

"Then one of your twelve is a monster," she said quietly. "And you already know that word well."

I did not answer. The word monster stung more coming from her than it ever did from strangers who feared me.

"Bring me the ledger," I told Ronan. "Every man who holds a crest ring. I want names, I want faces, and I want to know where each of them was three years ago."

Ronan hesitated. "Alpha, three years ago is a long time. Are we certain the girl's memory is correct."

"Are you calling her a liar," I said, turning my full attention on him.

"No, Alpha. I only mean, we should be careful before we accuse men who have fought beside you."

I understood his caution. I even respected it. But something in me, something I did not like admitting, wanted to believe her without question. That frightened me more than the fire, more than the note about my mother.

"Careful," I said. "But quick. Bring me the ledger tonight."

Ronan bowed his head and left the room.

Elara stood near the window, arms wrapped around herself, watching the last light fade over my land. She looked smaller in that moment than she had in the forest, like the fear she buried out there was finally catching up to her now that she was somewhere safe enough to feel it.

"You do not have to stay standing," I said. "Sit."

"I am fine."

"That was not a request."

She looked at me, something sharp flashing behind her tired eyes, and sat on the edge of the chair like it might bite her.

"Tell me about him," I said. "The man with the ring."

"Why does it matter to you," she asked. "An hour ago you called me useful. Now you want his name like you actually care what happened to me."

"I care about traitors in my pack," I said. "Do not mistake that for something else."

"Of course," she said, and looked away. Something about her voice made my chest feel tight again, though I refused to name why.

"His name," I said again, softer this time, though I hated how soft it came out.

"I never learned it," she admitted. "He never gave it. He only ever said I belonged to him, the same way you said it in the forest today."

Her words landed like a blade between my ribs.

"I am nothing like him," I said.

"I hope that is true," she whispered. "For both our sakes."

Before I could answer, the door burst open. Ronan stood there, out of breath, ledger in hand, his face pale in a way I had rarely seen from him.

"Alpha," he said. "I found the name."

"Who," I demanded.

Ronan swallowed hard, glancing once at Elara before looking back at me.

"It is Callum," he said. "Your father's oldest friend. The man who raised you after your mother disappeared. He has worn that ring since before you were born."

The room went silent.

Callum. The man who taught me to fight. The man who stood beside me the night my father died. The only person in this world I had ever trusted, even a little.

"That is not possible," I said.

"There is more, Alpha," Ronan said, his voice shaking now. "The note about your mother. We traced the handwriting."

"Whose was it," I asked, though some part of me already feared the answer.

Ronan looked down at the ledger in his hands, then back up at me.

"It matches Callum's handwriting exactly."