Xaden’s POV
The sun hung low in the sky, casting elongated shadows along the riverbank. A cool breeze wafted through, bringing with it the earthy scent of the forest and a palpable sense of tension. The river gurgled over the rocks, a soothing sound, yet my mind was anything but tranquil. The shipment of arrows and bows was still missing, and time was slipping away. Arron’s pack depended on us. If we didn’t dispatch these supplies soon, they would be left exposed, vulnerable to the dangers lurking in the dark woods beyond their territory.
I ran my fingers through my hair, my jaw clenched tight. The gnawing anxiety in my stomach had been there since I got the news. My pack, my people, were not a formidable force, but every misstep had repercussions. This delay—this missing shipment—was a blunder that could prove disastrous.
I peered down the river, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. There was nothing. No transport, no crew in sight.
"Where are the shipping personnel?" I asked, my voice icy, cutting through the forest's low hum.
One of my lieutenants, a man with a stern expression and weary eyes, stepped forward. His tone was apologetic, but I had no interest in that. “Alpha, there’s no one here. We’ve searched. No one at the border.”
With each passing moment, I felt my muscles tense further. His words struck me like a blade. This was more than just an inconvenience; it was a failure. The arrows and bows should have been here by now. Arron’s pack was counting on them.
I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails pierced my palms, drawing blood. Every fiber of my being urged me to take action. I wanted to confront someone, to find out who was responsible for this and make them feel my wrath. I had built this pack on strength, discipline, and unwavering loyalty. This kind of error—this kind of weakness—was intolerable.
The world around me seemed to come to a standstill as I absorbed the gravity of the situation. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, drowning out the sound of the river nearby. I could feel the blood surging through my veins, relentless and powerful, pushing me to act. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation.
I shifted my focus to the guards encircling me, all rigid under the pressure of the moment. My attention landed on one man in particular—Bearded Marcus, a hulking figure with a history of combat. He stood a few steps away, his gaze averted as if he were trying to escape my scrutiny. He understood what was about to unfold.
I gestured toward him, not giving him a chance to respond. "You," I growled, my voice low and edged with ice. "Where are they? The ones meant to deliver the shipment. Where are they hiding?"
Bearded Marcus swallowed hard, his eyes darting to the other guards in a panic. Yet, he was wise enough not to show any fear in my presence. “We’re still waiting, Alpha. There’s been no sign of them.”
My anger flared. The nerve. The incompetence.
I stepped forward instinctively, closing the distance between us in an instant. His face changed, a flicker of recognition followed by fear—his body tensed, bracing for what was about to happen. I didn’t hold back. My fist struck his face with a sickening impact.
He collapsed to the ground, groaning and clutching his bloodied nose. I felt no sympathy. He had let me down. He had let the pack down.
“How dare you tell me there’s no one here?!” I snarled. “Do you think I accept weakness? Find the men, NOW. Ensure they bring those arrows and bows. If anyone is responsible for this, they will pay. Do you understand?”
I spat the last word like it was poison. Each syllable was laced with disdain.
I heard the sound of boots shuffling behind me, a brief pause before one of my lieutenants spoke. “Alpha, the shipment—they’re on their way. We’ve received word. The men who were supposed to deliver it—they’ve arrived.”
I turned sharply, my eyes narrowing with suspicion. “And where the hell have they been?”
A young scout named Kade approached me carefully, maintaining a respectful distance. “Alpha, the shipment has arrived. They were delayed, but they’re finally here,” he said, gesturing toward a small group emerging from the trees.
I didn’t hesitate. My anger simmered within me, intense and fierce, but I managed to temper it just enough to hide my impatience. I turned my attention to the men drawing closer.
They appeared exhausted and grimy. Their travel-worn clothes showed signs of wear, and they carried the familiar bundles of arrows and bows, moving cautiously as if they sensed the weight of my stare. Their discomfort was palpable.
I stepped forward, regarding each of them with icy indifference. “You’ve brought the arrows,” I stated, my voice a dangerous monotone. “Consider yourselves fortunate to have arrived at all.”
The men paused briefly before the leader, a broad-shouldered man with a scar on his cheek, spoke. “Alpha Xaden, we regret the delay. There were... complications along the way. But we have everything you asked for.”
They placed the bundles at my feet, each wrapped in coarse burlap, but my focus remained on their hesitation. Their apology felt weak and insincere. I had no patience for excuses.
“Do you think I care about your excuses?” I snapped, my gaze fixed on the scarred man. He flinched but remained silent. “Remember this the next time you’re given an important task. Weakness is unacceptable in my pack. Is that understood?”
The man nodded quickly, fear evident in his wide eyes. The others stood still, awaiting my verdict.
I glanced back at my men, signaling them without a word. They got the message. A few sprang into action, encircling the transporters, their hands twitching with eagerness. I could sense their hunger, the bloodlust simmering just beneath their composed facades. My pack thrived on chaos and fear, and it was time to remind these fools of their place.
The scarred man seemed to grasp the impending danger a moment too late. “W-what are you doing? We’ve delivered—”
I raised a hand to silence him. “You’re going to feed the pack.” I nodded sharply to my men, and in an instant, they seized the transporters, dragging them to the ground, utterly defenseless.
“What?” the leader gasped, his voice shaking. “You promised us safety... we’ve done the job!”
I stepped forward, my tone as frigid as ice. “Your job was to deliver. You failed. Now you will face the consequences.”
The men were pulled into the trees, out of sight. Their protests quickly morphed into panic. My men worked swiftly. The air thickened with the scent of blood.
I turned to the others, scrutinizing them with a predatory gaze. “Ensure they don’t escape. Take their souls. Let them understand the cost of failure.”
My pack remained silent, the grim task unfolding before me. I observed with a chilling detachment, my anger transformed into something darker, more menacing. I had no interest in the transporters or their excuses. My sole focus was the strength of my pack, and I would crush anyone who threatened it.
I turned away, allowing the chaos to continue behind me. The arrows and bows were already in my grasp, and that was all that mattered. But deep down…