FATED BUT DANGEROUS

NOT A HERO OF JUSTICE

CHAPTER 3

CAEL'S POV

The slap hadn’t even settled on my cheek when the next hit came—a kick, sharp and cruel, straight into my ribs. The crack rang louder than the pain itself, rattling through the wooden chair that bound me. The legs scraped against the stone floor, wobbling, but didn’t fall.

Another blow. My head snapped to the side, hair sticking to the blood already drying on my face. The chair creaked again, and I braced for the next one. Draven wasn’t satisfied. He wanted me to feel small, to crumble here, in front of him, on his stage.

“Ungrateful b***h,” he spat, his voice thick with rage. “Do you know what I’m offering you? Freedom. A place at my side. And you sit there as if you’re better than me.”

His boot landed again. My stomach folded in on itself, air leaving my lungs in a rush I couldn’t control. The chair jolted forward, scraping, rattling.

I forced my eyes to stay open, to fix on him. His face blurred through the haze of pain—jaw tight, eyes bright with a madness I’d only ever seen once before.

Kael’s face flickered in my mind, uninvited. My brother. My blood. A betrayal that cut deeper than Draven’s fists ever could. I wanted to spit his name, wanted to curse him, but my mouth filled with blood instead.

Another strike. The chair teetered, then slammed back down on two legs. My shoulders jolted, arms screaming against the chains.

Don’t cry. Don't lose hope. Don't let him take your resolve.

But every blow loosened something inside me, tore at the resolve I thought was iron.

“You think resilience makes you strong?” Draven snarled, pacing in front of me, eyes gleaming. “It makes you stupid. It makes you mine to break, it puts you in this situation .”

Then he drove his boot into the side of the chair. Hard. The whole thing rattled, groaned under me, and tipped. My body hit the ground with a force that stole what little breath I had left.

The kick didn’t stop. One. Two. Each one sharper, wilder, endless. My ribs screamed. My skull rang. And still, no pause. No mercy.

That was when I saw it. His face. That look. This wasn’t power anymore—it was hunger. Pure, unhinged hunger. His lips curled, eyes wide and gleaming. He looked less like a man, more like the devil himself.

And in that moment, a thought I had refused to believe finally pushed through: he’s going to kill me.

Just like my parents.

No one would know. No one would care. Just another nameless wolf bled out on stone.

Panic clawed its way through me. My chest tightened, breath short and desperate. I scanned the room, frantic, looking for something—anything. A weapon. A crack in the wall. A sign of help.

At first, all I heard was the thud of his boots against me. Then—faint. Distant. Footsteps.

Slow, steady.

I froze. My ears strained. The sound grew louder, faster—into a run, pounding down the corridor toward us.

Please.

Please, let someone come. Let someone stop him. Let me not die here.

………

DAMIAN’S POV

The wooden steps groaned under my weight as I descended, one hand brushing the cold wall for balance. I told myself that I didn’t know why I was here. I told myself, repeatedly, that it was pointless. But my chest betrayed me, tight with the same quiet ache that always pulled me to the dungeon whenever new rogue prisoners were dragged in.

Maybe this time.

I never named the thought. Never dared. But it shadowed me, step after step, until the darkness swallowed me whole.

The air shifted—stale, damp, metallic. A single torch guttered on the wall, coughing out thin light. At first, all I saw was my father’s back, broad and immovable, like a boulder wedged into the earth. I frowned, the familiar tug of unease knotting my stomach.

My father didn’t usually come down here himself.

Why now?

Then the sound reached me—a scrape, a whimper too faint but its volume of pain was louder than a trumpet.

My breath stilled. I blinked, trying to make sense of the scene. My father wasn’t interrogating. He wasn’t commanding. He was—

The realization slammed into him, along with fury, white-hot and blinding.

No.

I moved before the thought even finished forming. My boots pounded against the stone as I surged forward, voice breaking from my throat:

“Draven—stop!”

His head snapped up, eyes catching the weak flame as if lit from within. My shoulder collided hard with him, the impact jolting through bone and muscle. For a heartbeat, the man staggered, nearly losing his footing, but his strength clamped back with terrifying force. He didn’t fall.

“What are you doing here?” Draven’s voice cut sharp as a blade, low and dangerous.

My chest heaved, eyes burning, but my voice came out steady. “What were you doing to her?”.

For the first time, I looked at the girl properly. Her face blurred through the haze of torchlight, but her terror wasn’t. It hit him like a punch to the ribs. She wasn’t fighting anymore—she can’t fight even if she wants to.

She is chained, helpless, and badly injured, and her eyes, oh, her eyes have no light in them anymore.

I turned to look at my father and his lips curled, a bit of laughter—rolled from him, echoing off the stone. “You dare to question me?”

My fists clenched, my pulse hammering in my ears.

“I’m stopping you,” I said.

His smile sharpened into something wicked. “My son,” he spat the word like poison, “you think you can stop me? You?”

He moved, fast and brutal, lunging forward. And I, without hesitation, lunged back.

Been wanting this for a while

His fist cracked across my jaw before I even had the chance to breathe. My head snapped to the side, copper flooding my mouth. He didn’t give me a second—he never did. He came again, a blur of rage, and I ducked, letting his knuckles whistle past my ear. My shoulder rammed into his ribs, and for the first time, I heard him grunt.

Good. Not just me bleeding tonight.

He snarled, lips pulling back like a wolf ready to tear flesh. “You think you’re a man, Damian? You’re nothing. A mistake.”

Original line, Dad.

My jaw throbbed, but I still smirked, spitting blood at his feet. “Funny. For a mistake, I’m pretty hard to kill.”

That earned me a knee to the gut. Air rushed out of me, but I twisted with the pain, grabbing his arm and yanking hard enough to slam him against the wall. The plaster cracked.

His laugh was low, cruel, like he was enjoying it. “That's all you got? Pathetic.”

I answered with my fist to his mouth. His head jerked back, and for a flicker—just a flicker—his eyes flared with something like surprise. Then rage swallowed it whole. He lunged, catching my throat in his hand, lifting me halfway off the ground.

My vision burned, but I forced words past his grip. “You talk too much.”

I clawed at his wrist, then slammed my knee into his chest. He staggered, loosened his hold, and I dropped, coughing hard. I didn’t wait. I surged forward, shoulder-first, tackling him down. For one glorious second, I had him on his back.

But he didn't stay down.

He roared, flipping us with a violent twist, his fist raining down. My cheek split, then my brow. My blood painted his knuckles.

I let the next blow land, because at this point…what’s one more scar? Then I spat blood right in his face.

His growl deepened, and he slammed me down harder, like he wanted to break every bone just to hear the sound.

His fists kept coming, heavy, merciless, each one ringing in my skull like thunder. My vision blurred, but I refused to go limp.

“Look at you,” he sneered, grabbing my hair and slamming the back of my head against the ground. Stars exploded behind my eyes. “Barely breathing. Weak. huh?"

My chest heaved, every inhale like fire, but I still let out a ragged laugh.

That laugh drove him mad. He roared, lifting me again, trying to slam me into the floor—when it happened. His foot slipped, just the smallest crack in his perfect balance. Maybe it was blood slicking the ground. Maybe the universe finally decided to give me one second.

One second was enough.

He lost his footing, and I twisted with the momentum, forcing us both down. His back hit the floor with a thud that shook through my bones. My arm shot around his throat before I even thought about it. Instinct. Desperation. Rage.

I squeezed. Hard.

He thrashed under me, stronger, heavier, his nails ripping across my arm, but I locked in tighter. My whole body shook, muscles screaming, lungs burning, but I held on. I poured everything I had into that choke hold—every scar, every insult, every night I told myself I wasn’t like him.

“Not… this time,” I gritted out, my voice more blood than sound.

His eyes went wide, furious, wild—and for the first time, I saw it: fear.

He tried to roll us, but his footing betrayed him again. His knee buckled. My weight pressed down harder, my forearm digging into his windpipe. He clawed at me, spat curses, and promised death.

“You’re still nothing!” he gasped, voice breaking against the choke.

“Then you’re losing… to nothing,” I hissed back, tightening until my vision tunneled.

The fight became a blur of pure will. His strength against my refusal to let go. His fury against my stubborn, bitter laugh echoes in my head. My arms were on fire, my chest was splitting, but I didn’t stop. Not until I felt him struggling slowly. Not until the deranged Alpha—the man who was supposed to be untouchable—was pinned beneath me, choking on his own weakness.

For once, I had him.

And I wasn’t letting go.

I kept him pinned, chest pressing down, muscles trembling, every second a battle to hold back his strength. My lungs burned, but I didn’t let go.

The Alpha stopped fighting back. He was breathing, slow, measured, like he was calculating the next move, regaining strength—but not a single word escaped him. His eyes, sharp and cold, flicked to me briefly before turning to the side.

And then I looked at her.

She was staring. Staring at both of us, at me and at him, eyes wide, intense, unflinching. Even through the haze of pain, I could see it—every muscle in her small frame tensed, every nerve screaming—but she didn’t look away. Not once. Her hands shook slightly, trembling against the chains, and I noticed the faint quiver of her lips.

I followed her gaze, watching her take in everything, and for a moment, I tried to see myself as she might. And then… I looked at her.

Our eyes met. Just for a few seconds, but it was enough. Enough for my wolf to stir, enough for that undeniable pull to hit with the force of certainty.

Her breath hitched faintly, and I could see a flicker of fear and awe mingled together in her expression.

This little girl… this pearl…

I felt the grip on the man beneath me loosen just a fraction, almost unconsciously, my attention split between keeping him down and acknowledging the bond that had just revealed itself.

Mate.

My mate.