Chapter 30 TWENTY-FOUR HOURS
XAVIER'S POV
I stared at Avrielle, my chest heaving with a rhythm that felt jagged, like broken glass shifting in my lungs.
She looked like a porcelain doll someone had tried to shatter. Cobwebs clung to her hair, her skin was mapped with grime, and the blood staining her clothes was spreading too fast. Way too fast.
I felt a cold, sharp twitch in my mind. Aris had been clear she would only wake when her wolf stirred. So why was she bleeding out like a common omega? I strained my senses, pushing my Alpha aura out until it brushed against her, searching for even a spark of a lunar soul.
But I got...nothing. Just the hollow, terrifying scent of mortality.
"Kaiden," I snapped, my voice cutting through the gloom like a winter wind. I didn't turn to look at him. I couldn't take my eyes off her. "Loosen Adrian’s restraints and toss him back into the dungeon. I'd attend to this later."
"Affirmative Alpha."
I stepped toward her.
Avrielle’s eyes were glazed, the vibrant defiance I usually hated—and secretly craved—flickering out. She staggered, her knees buckling as the world seemed to tilt beneath her.
I caught her before she hit the stones.
A heavy sigh escaped me, more of a growl than a breath. I scooped her up, her weight speaking enough of how fragile she had become. I didn't care about the mud ruining my suit or the blood soaking into my shirt or even about the greetings of the guards as I strode past them.
I didn't head for the infirmary, instead, I marched straight into the manor, kicked my bedroom door open and made for the bathroom.
I stepped into the oversized shower, my clothes and hers still on, and wrenched the handle. The water hit us in a frigid spray before turning lukewarm. Avrielle whimpered, a small, broken sound that grated against my nerves. She pressed closer to my chest, seeking warmth from a man made of frost, her breathing was labored, hitching in her throat.
I placed my palm flat against her stomach, right over the jagged tear in her flesh. I closed my eyes, summoning the raw, golden heat of my Alpha spark. I forced my power into her, knitting the skin back together, forcing her body to survive even if her soul wanted to quit.
Suddenly, I felt that familiar, traitorous stir in my gut. My blood began to simmer, and despite the gore and the exhaustion, I felt myself hardening against her hip.
Goddess, she’s intoxicating.
Even covered in filth, even half-dead, she had this tether on my base instincts. It was like a sickness. She made me react without even trying, pulling at the leash I kept on the monster inside me.
"Why..." she whispered, her voice a ghost of a sound against the spray of the water. "Why don't you... trust me?"
My fist clenched against the tiled wall. Her breath was hot against my neck, seductive in its weakness. I hated how much I wanted to swallow that sound.
"You have no idea how much I trust you, Avrielle," I replied. My voice was a flat, icy monotone, hiding the fact that my heart was thudding like a war drum.
Her fingers curled into my wet shirt, tightening. She tilted her head back, her damp hair clinging to her pale face, her eyes searching mine with a desperation that turned my stomach. "Why do you not believe me... when I say Adrian isn't really guilty?"
My heart didn't just clench; it froze.
Adrian.
Always Adrian.
Even here, in my arms, in my shower, while I poured my own life force into her to keep her heart beating, his name was the first thing on her lips like a rhythmic torture.
Adrian.
Adrian.
Adrian.
Did she think I was made of stone? Did she think because I was the "Devil Alpha" I didn't feel the sting of being her second choice? It was a bitter pill to swallow—knowing her heart was anchored to a traitor. But then again, maybe this was my penance. I was an icy, heartless prick. I didn't deserve the warmth of a woman like her. I only knew how to own, not to earn.
I let out a long, jagged breath and set her on her feet. The water had washed away the worst of the grime, swirling dark and muddy down the drain. I pulled her flush against me, her wet clothes sticking to her curves like a second skin.
I grabbed her hand, my movements rough and devoid of gentleness, and pressed it firmly against the bulge in my trousers. I leaned down, my lips grazing the shell of her ear.
"You're turning me on," I muttered, the words sounding like a threat.
I bit her earlobe, hard enough to leave a mark, and felt the violent shiver that racked her frame. Her hand instinctively tightened around me through the fabric, a gasp escaping her. I could feel her pulse racing against mine, a frantic, shared heat.
I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to take her right there against the cold marble. I had to maintain control. I was the Alpha; I didn't succumb to the itch.
"What would you do, Avrielle," I whispered, my voice dropping to a dangerous crawl, "if you discovered the person you’re rooting for isn't a victim? What if he’s the one pulling the strings?"
She froze and her smell of heat vanished instantly. I felt her grip slacken, her hand dropping away as if she’d touched a hot stove. The reality of the situation crashed back into her eyes.
"I trust my judgement," she said, her voice regaining a sliver of its usual steel.
I flashed her a smile—a cold, hollow expression that didn't reach my eyes. The ache in my chest was blooming, but I suppressed it. It was easier to do when my wolf was silent, retreating into the dark corners of my mind.
"You raised him," she challenged, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and sorrow. "Don't you feel any remorse? Any detachment... knowing you’re going to kill him? When you flog him like a dog?"
I stared at her, my gaze turning back to the permafrost she feared. "You know what they call me, Avrielle. You think I earned the title of the Devil Alpha of the North by sparing family?" I stepped closer, looming over her until she had to crane her neck. "To me, he isn't family. He’s a criminal. A cancer. And he needs to be cut out."
She recoiled as if I’d slapped her. Her pupils dilated, her breath hitching in a way that signaled pure, unadulterated terror. "You're a psycho," she whispered.
I didn't flinch. I let that word settle over me like a familiar coat. I smiled again, feeling that familiar pang of being misunderstood. It was a lonely throne I sat on, and she was just reminding me why I sat there alone.
Suddenly, her face fell. The horror was replaced by a flickering shadow of regret. "I'm sorry," she murmured. I gave a curt nod, the dismissal sharp and final.
"Finish your bath. I’ll send Elena over with fresh clothes, you’ll be staying here. There’s no reason for you to go back to that filth in the infirmary. You’ll be treated in this house, under my eyes."
I turned to leave, my heavy boots squelching against the wet floor. I paused at the door, waiting for a protest, a plea, anything. Silence.
"Adrian will be convicted in twenty-four hours," I added, throwing the words over my shoulder like stones.
I felt her flinch without looking. I ignored the flash of pain in her eyes; I had enough of my own to deal with. I reached for the handle, but her voice stopped me.
"Give me those twenty-four hours."
I stopped, my hand tightening on the brass knob.
"In twenty-four hours, if I can't find solid evidence to clear him, I’ll admit defeat," she said, her voice gaining a desperate strength. "And you can do whatever you want with him."
My jaw tightened so hard I thought my teeth might crack. My fists balled at my sides.
What was I expecting? This was the woman who had crawled through tunnels and bypassed a hundred guards just to reach him. There was nothing she wouldn't do for that boy.
"Fine, Avrielle," I growled, the word tasting like ash. "Twenty-four hours."
"I have one more request," she said quickly. "In those twenty-four hours... don't torture him. Feed him properly."
I felt a bitter laugh bubble in my throat, but I choked it down. She knew the rules of this pack. She knew the law of the North. She had been framed once; she had felt the sting of the whip herself and yet, she was using her last bit of leverage to ensure his comfort.
"Is there anything else?" I asked, my voice devoid of any emotion.
"No."
"Take care, Avrielle," I muttered.
I walked out, shutting the door with a soft, ominous click. The hallway was empty, but the echoes of her voice followed me, like a haunting reminder that no matter how much power I held, I would never be the one she fought for.