Blood Of The Sun

Chapter 8

Anna’s P.O.V.

The White Room was colder than I imagined. Sterile walls, silver shackles bolted into stone, a drain in the floor that whispered of horrors I didn’t want to picture. I’d heard the stories of what my father had done to rogues, traitors, enemies of the Dios del Sol. I never thought I’d walk into this place with my own mate chained to the wall.

The boy looked up as the door slammed shut behind me. His curls were matted with blood, his tan skin marred with bruises that were already fading. His lips curved, arrogant even now. Vampire healing. Wolf stubbornness. Hybrid strength.

And still he didn’t fight.

Carlos Rivera stood tall at my side, arms folded, gold eyes gleaming with Alpha rage. My mother flanked him, deadly quiet, her sisters just behind her like shadows waiting to strike. Ricardo and Ramiro guarded the door, tension tight in their jaws.

“You came into my house,” my father growled. Tell me” he stepped forward, voice dropping to a lethal rumble, “why shouldn’t I rip your heart out and mount your head on the gates of my pack?”

The boys laugh was soft, taunting. His fangs glinted when he spoke. “Because you can’t.”

Carlos’s hand shot out, grabbing the boys throat, slamming him against the wall so hard the shackles rattled. “Try me, boy.”

“Stop!” My voice cracked, desperate, but no one moved.

He didn’t resist. He didn’t claw or snarl or fight the Alpha’s hold. His brown eyes so warm it hurt shifted to me. “Tell him the truth, Anna. Tell him what you feel when you look at me.”

Heat coursed through me, unbearable, undeniable. My chest heaved, and I tore my eyes away, but the silence said enough.

Christa stepped forward then, her presence commanding the room without effort. “Carlos.” Her voice was low, sharp as a blade. “Enough.”

But Carlos wasn’t finished. He released his throat only to slam his fist into the wall beside his head, stone cracking. “You’ll talk,” he snarled. “Where is your pack? What are you planning?”

The boy tilted his head, smirking even through the blood on his lip. “Planning?” His voice was velvet, dangerous. “I wasn’t planning anything. But he is.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Who?” Christa demanded.

His eyes flickered toward me again, softening just a fraction. Then he leaned his head back against the wall, lips curling. “My father. And he’s already closer than you think.” A hush fell over the room.

Christa’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

Instead of answering, hedragged his gaze to Anna, softening just a fraction, as if the weight of his defiance wasn’t meant for her. Then he leaned his head back against the white wall, lips curling into a wicked grin. “My father. And he’s already closer than you think.”

Aaliyah’s laugh cut the silence, low and humorless. She moved closer, crouching so her glowing gaze met his. “You know how hybrids came to be the blood curses, the slaughter, the ruin they left behind. What part of that history do you belong to, hmm?”

“The part that survived,” He answered simply, still smirking, though his eyes flickered with something deeper.

Christa slammed her hands on the table, making the steel rattle. “Why Anna? Why reveal yourself at her coronation? Speak!” Her wolf snarled just beneath her skin, begging for blood.

For the first time, the boy hesitated. His lips parted, then closed again, as though he were weighing the cost of what he might say. Finally, he looked back at Anna, his expression unreadable, and said nothing.

Aaliyah rose slowly, her voice low with warning. “Push him harder and he’ll shut down completely. He’s already holding back more than he’s letting on.”

Christa’s jaw clenched, rage simmering. She leaned down so close he could feel her breath. “Your time is running out. And when it does, boy, no one will save you not even her.”

he smirked again, though his eyes betrayed him with the briefest flicker of worry.Christa’s rage cooled like tempered steel, her wolf forced back under command. She straightened slowly, letting her hands fall to her sides, every inch of her posture the quiet dominance of an Alpha who didn’t need to shout to be obeyed.

“You’ll sit here,” she said coldly, her voice steady as ice, “and you’ll think about whether silence will save you when we return tomorrow. Because I promise you” her amber eyes glowed faintly in the stark white light, “we always come back.”

The boy tilted his head, lips curling, but said nothing. Chains rattled as he shifted against the wall, his silence heavier than any taunt.

Aaliyah clicked her tongue, her witch’s gaze sharp as glass. “He’s stubborn. But everything cracks under pressure, eventually.” She leaned close enough for her breath to stir the blood on his cheek. “And when it does, we’ll be waiting.”

Christa gave a single sharp nod. “Lock the door. Double the guard. No one goes in. No one comes out.”

With that, the sisters swept from the White Room, the steel door clanging shut behind them.

⸻

Later that night, as the pack house quieted and the moon bathed the halls in silver, Anna found Aaliyah alone, her witch’s eyes glinting faintly in the dark.

“Aunt,” Anna whispered, her voice tight with desperation. “I need to see him.”

Aaliyah frowned. “Absolutely not. Your mother”

“I’m not asking her.” Anna’s fists clenched at her sides. “I just I need to know who he is. Something. Anything. If they execute him tomorrow I’ll never know.”

Her aunt studied her, the silence stretching long and dangerous. She saw Christa’s steel in Anna’s jaw, Carlos’s fire in her eyes.

After a long moment, Aaliyah sighed, smoke curling from her lips. “One question. One look. That’s all. Do you understand me, Anna?”

Anna nodded fiercely, though her heart thundered in her chest.

“Good,” Aaliyah muttered, turning toward the shadows where the White Room waited. “But remember this, child sometimes not knowing is safer than the truth.”

The pack house slept in uneasy silence. Guards patrolled the halls outside, their boots echoing faintly off the stone floors, but inside the west wing, no one stirred. The White Room lay buried there, cold and sterile, its very walls humming with the memory of old blood.

Anna’s heart hammered as she followed Aaliyah through the shadows, every step a betrayal of her parents’ trust, every breath daring fate itself. Her aunt moved like smoke silent, effortless her magic dulling the sharpness of their footsteps.

At the steel door, Aaliyah pressed a hand flat to the lock, whispered something in a language older than the pack, and with a soft click, the bolts slid free.

“Quick,” she whispered. “Before the guards make their rounds again.”

Anna slipped inside.

The room was blindingly white, too bright against the hour of night. The boy was still chained against the far wall, his wrists bruised and raw, blood dried at the corner of his mouth. His head lifted slowly as the door shut behind her, and though his body looked beaten, his eyes dark, sharp, unreadable burned with unbroken fire.

“You again,” he rasped, voice low but steady. His gaze flickered from Anna to Aaliyah, lingering longer on the girl. “Shouldn’t you be tucked away safe in bed, little princess?”

The way he said it sent a shiver down her spine. Not mocking. Not cruel. Almost protective.

“I came for answers,” Anna said, forcing her voice not to shake. “At least tell me your name.”

The boy tilted his head, lips twitching as if the question amused him. But he said nothing.

Anna’s chest tightened. “Please.”

Chains clinked softly as he leaned forward, eyes never leaving hers. “Names have power,” he murmured. “And you’re not ready for mine.”

Her throat tightened, frustration flaring with the sharp pull of something deeper something she didn’t understand yet but couldn’t deny.

Beside her, Aaliyah’s jaw clenched. She flicked her fingers, sending a faint spark of magic through the air, a warning that silence wouldn’t protect him forever. Still, the boy only smirked, unbroken.

“Time’s up,” Aaliyah whispered sharply, tugging at Anna’s arm. “We’ve pushed our luck enough tonight.”

Anna let herself be pulled back, but her eyes never left his. His stare followed her until the steel door slammed shut once more, the sound ringing in her ears like a promise.

And though she hadn’t learned his name, one truth rooted itself deep inside her chest

Whatever he was hiding, whatever his father planned, this boy was bound to her fate.