Chapter 22 Twenty two
For several long seconds, no one moved.
Harper sat frozen on the edge of the bed, her fingers digging into the mattress as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to the room. Her lungs burned; she hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until it came out in a broken gasp.
The Alpha King was the first to break the silence.
“Harper,” he said, his voice firm but controlled. “Can you stand?”
She nodded shakily, though her legs protested when she tried to move. The world tilted, but she forced herself upright, refusing to collapse—not now, not in front of them.
On the floor, Koda lay unnaturally still.
The artifact at the back of his neck had gone dark, its runes faded to dull scars etched into his skin. No smoke. No shadows. Just a body—his body—left behind after a war waged entirely inside his mind.
Kai burst into the room seconds later, skidding to a stop when he saw the scene.
“Koda—” His voice cracked as he dropped to his knees beside his brother, checking for a pulse, breath, anything. “He’s alive,” Kai said quickly, relief crashing through him. “He’s breathing.”
The Alpha King nodded once. “Barely. The binding forced the One back into dormancy, but it took a toll.”
Dormancy.
The word made Harper’s stomach churn.
“That thing,” she whispered, hugging her arms around herself, “it’s still in him.”
“Yes,” the King said plainly. “And now it knows you matter.”
Harper’s head snapped up. “Matter how?”
The Alpha King studied her carefully—too carefully. “You destabilize it. The One feeds on fear, control, domination. You resisted him. Worse—you challenged him. That makes you… inconvenient.”
Kai swore under his breath.
“I should’ve known,” he said hoarsely. “The signs were there. The energy spikes. The rogue responding to him. The eyes—” He stopped, fists clenching. “This is my fault.”
“No,” Harper said before she could stop herself.
Both of them looked at her.
“He fought,” she said quietly. “Koda did. I heard him. He tried to stop it.”
Kai closed his eyes.
The Alpha King straightened. “This changes things. Effective immediately, Harper is not to be left alone. Not at school. Not at home. Not anywhere the One could exploit.”
“I’m not a prisoner,” Harper said sharply, fear giving way to anger.
“No,” the King agreed. “You’re leverage.”
The word hit harder than any blow.
Kai rounded on his father. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”
“I get to talk about survival,” the King replied coldly. “And if the One resurfaces fully, he will come for her first.”
As if summoned by the mention of his name, Koda stirred.
A low groan escaped him, and his fingers twitched.
Harper moved without thinking, stepping closer, kneeling beside him. “Koda?”
His lashes fluttered.
When his eyes finally opened, they were amber again—normal, exhausted, confused.
“Harper?” he rasped.
Relief hit her so hard her vision blurred. “You’re here,” she said softly. “You’re back.”
Koda frowned, struggling to sit up. “I… I remember screaming. And then—nothing.” His gaze sharpened suddenly. “Did he touch you?”
Harper hesitated just a fraction too long.
Koda’s jaw clenched. “I tried to stop him,” he said hoarsely. “I swear I did.”
“I know,” she said. And she meant it.
The Alpha King turned away, already issuing orders to guards outside the room. “Take him to the lower wing. Full suppression protocols. Triple wards.”
Koda’s head snapped up. “No—wait. Harper—”
She stood.
“I’m here,” she said firmly.
They didn’t take Koda to a room.
They took him underground.
The air grew colder with every step down the stone stairs, the torches along the walls flickering like they were afraid of what waited below. Harper’s stomach twisted as iron doors groaned open, revealing a chamber carved straight into the rock—a dungeon, old and cruel, the kind meant to break spirits long before bodies.
Chains clinked.
Before Harper could fully process what was happening, guards forced Koda forward. His wrists were yanked up, shackled separately, iron biting into his skin as his arms were pulled wide and chained to hooks embedded in the wall. His feet barely touched the ground.
“Koda—!” Harper rushed forward instinctively.
A hand blocked her path.
“Enough,” the Alpha said sharply.
Harper rounded on him, fury blazing through her fear. “What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you chaining him like an animal?”
The Alpha didn’t even flinch. “Because animals don’t invite ancient evils into their bodies,” he replied coldly. “And because my son is a liability.”
Koda lifted his head weakly. “Father… it wasn’t—” His voice cracked. “I fought it.”
“I know,” the Alpha said flatly. “And you lost.”
Harper’s chest burned. “You saw what that thing did to him! You saw him fighting from the inside!”
“That changes nothing,” the Alpha said. “The One surfaced. That means punishment is required.”
Punishment.
Harper laughed bitterly. “You’re punishing him for being possessed?”
“For being weak enough to be possessed,” the Alpha corrected.
Her hands curled into fists. “You’re a monster.”
The Alpha’s gaze snapped to her, sharp and warning. “Watch your mouth, girl.”
“Or what?” she shot back. “You’ll chain me up too?”
A long, heavy silence followed.
Then the Alpha spoke quietly. “You will go home.”
Harper blinked. “What?”
“Your mother is waiting. She’ll be worried,” he said, dismissive now, as if this were nothing more than a mild inconvenience. “You will tell her nothing about what you saw tonight.”
“And if I do?” Harper asked.
The Alpha’s eyes glowed faintly red. “There will be consequences.”
Behind them, guards stepped forward—carrying whips.
Harper’s breath hitched. “No. No, you can’t—”
The Alpha raised a hand.
The first crack of the whip echoed through the dungeon.
Koda cried out—a raw, broken sound that tore straight through her chest.
“Stop!” Harper screamed, trying to rush forward again, only to be held back by two guards. “Please! He’s already hurt—”
Another crack.
Koda’s body jerked violently, chains rattling as blood streaked across his back.
“Father!” Koda gasped, choking on the word.
Harper struggled harder, tears blurring her vision. “This isn’t justice!” she sobbed. “This is cruelty!”
The Alpha didn’t look at Koda.
He looked at Harper.
“Leave,” he said again. “Now.”
Another whip cracked through the air.
Harper broke.
She turned and ran.
She didn’t stop until she was outside, the cold night air slamming into her lungs as she doubled over, gasping. Her hands shook uncontrollably. Her heart felt like it was being crushed from the inside.
If he can do this to his own son…
The thought followed her all the way home.
Her mother noticed immediately.
“Harper?” she asked, concern lacing her voice. “What happened? You look pale.”
“I’m fine,” Harper muttered, already moving past her.
Her mother frowned. “Did something happen at the Alpha’s house?”
Harper froze for half a second.
Then she shook her head. “No. I’m just tired.”
She didn’t wait for another question. She went straight to her room, closed the door, and locked it.
The silence was suffocating.
Harper collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sound of chains and screams replaying over and over in her head. Her chest ached with guilt—with fear—with something dangerously close to rage.
“That man is evil,” she whispered to the empty room. “And I walked straight into his den.”
She rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket around herself like armor.
I have to stop this wedding, she thought desperately. Before it’s too late.
Before her mother was trapped.
Before she was.
Before Koda was destroyed completely.
Her breathing slowly evened out.
She didn’t notice when the room grew colder.
Didn’t hear the faint creak near her window.
Didn’t feel the weight of a presence settling into the shadows.
Until—
She opened her eyes.
Two glowing red eyes stared back at her from the darkness.
Watching.
Waiting.
Smiling.
Koda’s POV
Darkness pressed in from every direction.
The dungeon smelled of iron, old blood, and damp stone. Chains bit into my wrists, stretched wide until my shoulders burned and my arms trembled from the strain. Every breath felt like dragging air through broken glass. My back throbbed where the whip had landed—again and again—until pain became a constant hum beneath my skin.
I laughed weakly.
So this was loyalty.
So this was family.
“You’re bleeding for nothing.”
The voice slid through my head like oil over fire—smooth, amused, familiar.
I clenched my jaw. Shut up.
A low chuckle echoed inside me. “Still pretending you have a choice?”
I sagged slightly against the chains, breath uneven. “You did this,” I growled. “You surfaced. You hurt people.”
“I saved you,” the One corrected calmly. “You were losing. The rogue would have torn your brother apart. Your Alpha father would have watched you die and called it fate.”
My vision blurred for a second. I swallowed hard. “You almost killed her.”
A pause.
Then—softer, almost curious—“And yet… you felt it too, didn’t you?”
I said nothing.
The One laughed again, richer this time. “The pull. The surge. When you kissed her. When our power aligned.”
“That wasn’t you,” I snapped. “That was me.”
“No,” he replied gently. “That was us.”
The chains rattled as my body tensed. “I won’t let you use her. I won’t let you use me.”
“You already are,” he said. “Look at you, Koda. Stripped. Bound. Beaten by the very wolves you bleed for.” His tone sharpened. “Where are they now? Your friends? Your pack? Your precious Alpha?”
Silence answered him.
“They fear you,” the One continued. “Because they know what you could become. What we could become.”
My head fell forward. Blood dripped onto the stone floor.
“I don’t want your power,” I muttered.
“That’s the lie they taught you,” he said smoothly. “You think suffering makes you noble. You think obedience makes you worthy.”
His presence pressed closer, wrapping around my thoughts like a tightening coil.
“End this,” he whispered. “Let me take the weight. Let me burn the weakness out of you. Together, we wouldn’t kneel—we’d rule.”
Images flashed through my mind: wolves bowing, enemies screaming, chains shattering like glass.
“And Harper?” I asked quietly.
The One smiled inside my skull. I felt it—cold and sharp. “She wouldn’t be hurt. She’d be mine. Ours. A bond strong enough to rewrite fate itself.”
Rage flared through the pain. “You don’t get to say her name.”
“Oh, but I do,” he replied. “Because she’s the key. And you know it.”
I shook my head, breath ragged. “This is punishment,” I said. “I deserve it.”
“For what?” the One asked softly. “For being born with a curse? For surviving?”
The chains creaked as I straightened despite the pain.
“I won’t give you control,” I said. “Even if it kills me.”
The One sighed—almost disappointed.
“Then bleed,” he whispered. “Scream. Break.”
His voice faded, retreating into the dark corners of my mind.
But his final words lingered like poison:
“When you’re done suffering… I’ll still be here.”
And deep down, terrifyingly deep, a part of me feared he was right.