Chapter 6
1140 Words
Chapter Six – The Collector
Navarro’s P.O.V.
Power was never taken.
It was cultivated.
Patiently.
Deliberately.
Like poison.
The underground halls of Iron Fang had existed long before I was born. Older Alphas claimed the tunnels were carved by witches who traded souls for immortality.
I never cared whether the stories were true.
Only whether they were useful.
The torches bowed as I walked past, their flames bending toward the currents of ancient magic that lived beneath the mountain.
Guards straightened immediately.
No one spoke.
No one dared.
Fear maintained order far better than loyalty ever could.
The first iron door opened before I reached it.
The second.
The third.
Behind the final door…
The hybrid slept.
Carter Lykoudis hung motionless from silver chains, dried blood covering the bandages Charlie had wrapped only hours before.
Even unconscious…
His body continued healing.
Slowly.
Stubbornly.
Remarkable.
I stepped closer.
His breathing was shallow.
His pulse steady.
Exactly as expected.
One of the guards shifted uneasily beside me.
“Alpha…”
I didn’t look at him.
“What?”
“He hasn’t eaten since yesterday.”
“I know.”
“He’ll weaken.”
“Yes.”
The young warrior hesitated.
“Should we—”
“No.”
I finally turned.
The guard immediately lowered his eyes.
“You are mistaking starvation for suffering.”
The room fell silent.
“He needs neither comfort nor cruelty.”
I glanced back at Carter.
“He needs answers.”
The guard looked confused.
I dismissed him with a wave.
“Leave.”
Within seconds…
The corridor was empty again.
Only Carter and I remained.
I studied him for a long moment.
So much like Dorian.
So completely unlike him.
The old fool had spent years trying to create perfection.
Instead…
He created possibility.
“You still don’t understand what you are.”
Carter didn’t move.
Good.
Some conversations were easier with unconscious men.
“Dorian believed blood was power.”
I smiled faintly.
“He lacked imagination.”
I turned away.
There were greater things to attend to.
⸻
Charlie was waiting for me in the laboratory.
The room smelled of herbs, silver, ink, and old parchment.
Shelves lined every wall, stacked with journals dating back centuries.
Glass vials held samples of blood from wolves, witches, vampires, and hybrids.
The center table was covered in maps.
Charlie looked up as I entered.
“He’s asleep.”
“I know.”
“You’ve pushed him too hard.”
“No.”
I removed my gloves carefully.
“I’ve pushed him exactly far enough.”
She folded her arms.
“I disagree.”
“When did I ask?”
She smiled.
“You never do.”
I respected that about her.
She rarely wasted time pretending she feared me.
“His memories are returning.”
“Good.”
“They’re breaking him.”
“Even better.”
Charlie sighed.
“I don’t understand you.”
“No.”
I poured a dark crimson liquid into a crystal vial.
“You understand survival.”
“I understand obsession.”
Our eyes met.
“So tell me.”
She leaned against the table.
“Why Carter?”
“Because he survived?”
“You’ve had hybrids before.”
“They died.”
“You’ve had blood.”
“It degraded.”
“You’ve had Dorian’s research.”
“It was incomplete.”
Charlie frowned.
“So what makes Carter different?”
I looked toward the mountain ceiling.
“His wolf.”
Silence.
She waited.
I continued.
“Dorian spent decades trying to strengthen flesh.”
“He never realized…”
“…the true anomaly wasn’t Carter’s body.”
“It was the soul attached to it.”
Charlie stared.
“I’ve never heard anyone describe a wolf that way.”
“That is because very few people know wolves are born twice.”
She blinked.
“Explain.”
I smiled.
“No.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You enjoy this.”
“I enjoy curiosity.”
I corked the vial.
“And yours keeps you useful.”
Charlie watched me for several long seconds.
Finally she asked the question she’d been carrying for weeks.
“What happens if you’re wrong?”
I met her gaze.
“Then history continues exactly as it always has.”
“And if you’re right?”
I looked toward the northern wall where an ancient map had been carved directly into the stone.
Three symbols stood out.
A wolf.
A crescent moon.
A flame.
“They all believe Dorian’s war ended.”
My fingers brushed the carved wolf.
“It never began.”
⸻
Long after midnight…
I descended alone.
Lower than the prison.
Lower than the laboratories.
Lower than even my own warriors were permitted to enter.
The final corridor had no torches.
Only moonstone embedded in the walls.
Its pale light revealed a single iron door marked with symbols older than any language still spoken.
I unlocked it.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The seals broke with a hiss.
Inside…
The room was quiet.
Not empty.
A woman sat chained against the far wall.
Her clothes were worn.
Her skin pale.
Dark hair spilled over one shoulder, hiding most of her face.
She didn’t look up immediately.
She already knew it was me.
“You’ve been with him.”
Her voice was rough from disuse.
“I have.”
“How is he?”
I smiled faintly.
“You always ask about him first.”
She finally lifted her head.
Her eyes burned with hatred.
“If you’ve hurt him…”
“I’ve educated him.”
She laughed once.
A broken sound.
“You always did confuse those things.”
I stepped closer.
“He remembers more every day.”
The woman’s breathing caught.
“No…”
“Yes.”
“The walls are beginning to fall.”
She closed her eyes.
“I warned Dorian.”
“You warned everyone.”
“And no one listened.”
For the first time…
I felt something dangerously close to admiration.
Not for her.
For her endurance.
Years had passed.
Chains had rusted.
Empires had risen and fallen.
Still…
She refused to break.
I turned to leave.
Behind me, her voice echoed through the darkness.
“You’re too late.”
I stopped.
“The child has already awakened.”
Every instinct sharpened.
Slowly…
I looked back over my shoulder.
“What child?”
She smiled.
Not because she was happy.
Because she finally knew something…
…that I didn’t.
“The one prophecy chose.”
The silence that followed was heavier than stone.
For the first time in many years…
I felt uncertainty.
Just for a moment.
Then it was gone.
I locked the door behind me.
But her words followed me all the way back through the mountain.
The child has already awakened.
- Writer
