Chapter 113 The Little Kid

Chapter 113 The Little Kid
\- Alpha Dennis’ POV -
“W-wolfie…”
Helena’s weak voice reached me, thin and trembling, barely more than a whisper in the cold air. But even in its frailty, I knew it was her.
It was always her.
She was lying on the ground, her body curled slightly to the side as if she had tried to shield herself from the blows. Blood covered her fragile frame, soaking into her dress, staining her skin, pooling beneath her like a cruel red halo. Her silver hair was tangled and matted, sticking to her pale face.
For a second, I could not breathe.
My vision clouded with red.
Rage surged through me so violently that I felt numb. It swallowed every other feeling fear, pain, reason... until all that remained was a roaring storm inside my chest. My wolf rose to the surface, snarling, clawing, demanding blood.
“Mommy! Mommy!”
I heard a child crying somewhere near us.
But I couldn’t focus.
The sound was distant, fading against the chaos in my mind. All I could see was Helena’s blood. All I could smell was her pain.
“Oh, great Froylan!”
The voice came from the side.
I turned.
And I saw him.
Jerson.
His knuckles were stained with blood.
Helena’s blood.
Something inside me snapped.
Without thinking, without speaking, I lunged.
My body shifted mid-air, bones cracking, muscles stretching, fur bursting from my skin as my wolf took over. I hit him with such force that we crashed through a broken table. He barely had time to scream before my claws pinned him down.
My fangs tore into his shoulder first. Flesh ripped easily. His blood filled my mouth, metallic and hot, but it was not enough. It would never be enough.
He struggled beneath me, weak and pathetic.
Dust beneath me.
I sank my teeth deeper, dragging him across the floor like prey. He tried to raise his arms to protect his neck, but I slammed him against the wall, cracking the stone behind him.
I wanted to rip him apart.
I wanted to watch him beg.
I wanted him to feel even a fraction of the pain Helena had felt.
My jaws locked on his throat.
One bite.
One twist.
And his head would roll across the floor.
But then—
“Wolfie!”
That voice.
I froze.
It was small.
Shaking.
But clear.
Slowly, I turned my head.
The boy stood a few steps away, his tiny body trembling, tears streaming down his round cheeks. His fists were clenched tightly at his sides, but he did not run.
He did not hide.
He looked at me.
“Help m-mommy… p-please…”
My chest tightened painfully.
That single plea…
It pierced through the haze of fury and reached something deeper. Something human.
My wolf growled in protest, unwilling to release the kill. But my heart… my heart forced me to stop.
Helena.
She needed me.
If I killed Jerson now, I would waste time.
And Helena did not have time.
Will and several of my men stormed in through the shattered door. The air filled with tension as they took in the scene—the blood, the broken walls, the half-dead traitor beneath me.
I tightened my grip on Jerson for one last second, letting him feel the pressure of my fangs against his throat.
He whimpered.
Good.
Then I shoved him toward my men, my growl low and deadly.
“Take this bastard to the dungeon,” I ordered through clenched teeth as I shifted back slightly, my voice rough and venomous. “Don’t kill him. I’m not done with him yet.”
Even Will hesitated for a heartbeat.
But he quickly bowed his head. “Yes, Alpha.”
They dragged Jerson away, his body limp, leaving a smear of blood across the stone floor.
My eyes shifted back to the boy.
To Frost.
So many questions crawled inside my mind like restless shadows.
Why was this child calling Helena “mommy”?
And why…
Why did his ocean-gray eyes look so much like mine?
I pushed the thoughts away.
Helena’s life came first.
I stepped toward Frost slowly.
He did not move back.
He did not scream.
Even with my fur still bristling and blood dripping from my muzzle, he looked at me with fear… but not of me.
He was afraid for her.
I lowered myself in front of him.
“Do you trust me?” I asked, my voice softer now, though still rough from shifting.
He nodded instantly.
Without hesitation.
As if he had already decided long ago.
As if… he had always trusted me.
Something warm spread through my chest.
Why?
Why did this child’s trust matter so much?
“Let me take care of your mom,” I told him gently. “For now, go with him.”
I called Will over with a glance.
“He’s my most trusted man,” I continued. “He will take you to my place. I will bring your mom there. We’ll see each other later, okay?”
Frost sniffed once, wiping his tears with the back of his hand.
Then he nodded.
No protest.
No fear.
Such a good child.
Brave.
Too brave for someone his age.
I felt a strange relief knowing he was not afraid of me… even though he had just seen me ready to kill a man.
Why did that matter so much?