Chapter 29 Twenty nine
Pain.
That was the first thing I felt.
A sharp, splitting ache that felt like someone had cracked my skull open and stuffed it with fire.
I groaned softly, my fingers twitching against something soft beneath me.
A bed.
Not the cold marble floor of the wedding hall.
Slowly, painfully, I forced my eyes open.
The ceiling above me was unfamiliar.
White.
High.
With faint gold detailing along the edges.
Not my room.
Not home.
My breath hitched.
I pushed myself up slightly—and instantly regretted it. The world tilted again, dizziness washing over me.
“Easy.”
The voice was low. Controlled.
My head snapped toward the sound, wincing at the sudden movement.
Alpha Derek stood near the window.
Of course he did.
Sunlight streamed in behind him, casting him in shadow like some looming figure carved out of darkness.
“Where am I?” My voice came out hoarse.
“In the guest wing of my estate,” he replied calmly. “You fainted.”
Memory flooded back.
The wedding.
The kiss.
His threat.
My failure.
I swallowed, my throat dry.
“My mother?” I asked.
“She believes you were overwhelmed,” he said smoothly. “Which, considering your… display, is understandable.”
My jaw clenched.
“You drugged me,” I muttered.
A small smile touched his lips.
“If I wanted to drug you, Harper, you wouldn’t be awake right now.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
I swung my legs slowly over the side of the bed. My head throbbed harder.
“You shouldn’t be moving yet,” he said.
“I don’t need your concern.”
He studied me for a long moment.
“You are stubborn,” he said finally. “I see why my son is… attached.”
My heart skipped despite myself.
“Koda?” I asked before I could stop it.
Something flickered in his eyes.
“He is being handled.”
“Handled?” My voice sharpened. “You mean tortured?”
His expression hardened slightly.
“You saw what he becomes,” Derek said evenly. “You saw the danger.”
“I saw you chain him like an animal.”
“And you saw why,” he replied sharply, the calm mask cracking for half a second.
Silence fell between us.
The air felt thick.
“Why am I here?” I asked.
“Because,” he said slowly, walking closer, “you have involved yourself in matters far beyond your understanding.”
I laughed weakly despite the pain in my skull.
“You mean exposing you?”
His jaw tightened.
“You humiliated this family today.”
“You deserved worse.”
For a second, I thought he might actually strike me.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he leaned slightly closer.
“Listen carefully, Harper,” he said, his voice dropping. “What you saw in that dungeon is not a simple possession. It is ancient. Dangerous. And if it breaks free fully—people die.”
“I know,” I whispered. I remembered the red eyes. The laugh. The way the rogue beast bowed to him.
Derek watched my reaction carefully.
“You think I enjoy chaining my own son?” he continued. “You think that is power to me?”
I didn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know anymore.
Everything felt twisted.
Complicated.
Wrong.
“You are either very brave,” he said quietly, “or very foolish.”
“Maybe both.”
A faint huff escaped him—almost amused.
“Your mother is my wife now,” he said. “Which makes you part of this family.”
I stiffened.
“I’m not—”
“You are,” he cut in. “Whether you accept it or not.”
The words settled heavy in my chest.
“You will stop interfering,” he continued. “You will not speak of what you recorded. And you will stay away from the dungeon.”
“And if I don’t?” I challenged, even though my head was pounding.
His gaze turned icy.
“Then the consequences will not only affect you.”
A threat.
Not subtle.
My stomach twisted.
He straightened.
“Rest,” he said. “You’ll return home tonight.”
He turned toward the door.
“Wait.”
He paused but didn’t face me.
“How long has he been like that?” I asked softly. “The One.”
A long silence followed.
“Since he was eight,” Derek replied quietly.
That… I hadn’t expected.
“He saved this pack from something we couldn’t control,” Derek continued, voice distant now. “And in doing so, he trapped something inside himself.”
My chest tightened.
“So you chain him for being a hero?” I whispered.
“No,” Derek said coldly. “I chain him because the hero is losing.”
And with that, he left.
The door clicked shut.
Silence swallowed the room.
I sat there, heart racing, head aching, trying to piece together the truth.
Hero.
Monster.
Victim.
Villain.
Who was who?
A faint shiver ran down my spine.
For a split second—
Just a second—
I felt something.
A presence.
Like someone watching.
Not from the room.
From inside my head.
A whisper brushed against my thoughts.
Soft.
Amused.
You should have let me help you.
My breath caught.
“No,” I whispered to the empty room.
A low chuckle echoed faintly in my mind.
The game has only begun, little witch.
My headache spiked violently.
And somewhere deep in the estate—
I could have sworn I heard chains rattle.
—
The smell of eggs and toasted bread filled the kitchen when I came downstairs. Butter sizzled softly in the pan, and sunlight spilled across the countertops like nothing in the world had shifted overnight.
It felt normal.
Too normal.
Like yesterday hadn’t happened. Like I hadn’t watched a possessed alpha’s son exposed in front of an entire pack. Like Derek hadn’t leaned close enough for only me to hear him say this wasn’t over.
My mother stood by the stove, her back straight, movements careful. She looked composed, but the tightness in her shoulders gave her away.
“I made breakfast,” she said when she noticed me.
Her voice was gentle. Measured. The tone she used when she was trying not to shatter.
I nodded and sat at the table without speaking. My head throbbed faintly, a dull ache behind my eyes. The whispers inside my mind weren’t loud, but they were present, brushing against my thoughts like distant wind through hollow trees.
I picked up a fork and started eating.
She kept glancing at me.
“Harper,” she began carefully.
I kept chewing.
“We’re going to our new house today.”
The fork stopped halfway to my mouth.
Of course.
Not her house.
His house.
“Our house,” she corrected softly.
I set the fork down and looked at her. “I’m not moving there.”
Her jaw tightened. “Harper.”
“You married him yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“You barely know him.”
Her expression flickered, and for a second I saw something that wasn’t authority. It was calculation. “I know enough.”
“You know he keeps his son chained in a dungeon?” My voice didn’t rise. That made it worse.
She went very still. “Lower your voice.”
“No.”
Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating.
“You don’t understand the position we were in,” she said finally.
“I understand that power shouldn’t require cages.”
Her hand gripped the edge of the counter. “We were vulnerable. Omegas without protection are easy targets.”
“I’d rather be vulnerable than protected by someone who terrifies his own child.”
Her face hardened. “You fainted yesterday. You didn’t see everything.”
“Then tell me what I didn’t see.”
She didn’t answer that.
Instead, she stepped closer, her voice dropping. “Derek is not the only dangerous thing in this world.”
Something about the way she said it made my chest tighten.
“What does that mean?”
“It means,” she said carefully, “that aligning with strength is sometimes the only way to survive.”
I stared at her. “At what cost?”
Her silence was answer enough.
I pushed back my chair. “I need air.”
“Harper, don’t go far.”
But I was already grabbing my jacket.
The walls felt tight around me. The house felt smaller than it ever had. The whispers in my head stirred faintly, restless, like they were reacting to something I couldn’t see.
Outside, the morning air was cool and sharp against my skin. I walked without direction, just far enough to feel distance from that kitchen, from that conversation.
The street was quiet. Too quiet.
A breeze passed, carrying something underneath it.
Rot.
Metal.
Wet fur.
My steps slowed.
Every instinct in my body went rigid.
Then it moved.
It came from the side yard between two houses, bursting through a low fence in a splinter of wood and snapping wire. It was fast—too fast—and massive. Its fur was patchy and dark, skin showing in raw places beneath it. Its eyes glowed an unnatural red, unfocused and feral.
It didn’t hesitate.
It lunged.
I barely twisted in time. Its claws raked across my upper arm instead of my throat. Pain exploded down to my fingertips as I hit the pavement hard.
The rogue landed in front of me, snarling low, saliva dripping from bared teeth. It didn’t speak. It didn’t posture.
It attacked.
I rolled just as its claws slammed into the ground where my head had been, cracking concrete. My heart pounded so violently I could hear it in my ears. I scrambled backward, but my heel caught on uneven pavement and I fell again.
It pounced.
Its weight crashed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs. The smell of it was suffocating—blood, decay, wildness twisted beyond reason. Its claws dug into my jacket, shredding fabric as it tried to pin me.
I shoved at its chest, but it was like pushing a wall of muscle and rage.
It lowered its head, jaws snapping inches from my face.
And then something hit it from the side with brutal force.
The impact sent both bodies crashing into a parked car, metal denting under the collision. The rogue rolled, snarling viciously, scrambling back onto all fours.
Kai.
He was already half-shifted, eyes glowing, claws extended, shoulders broader, movements sharp and controlled. He didn’t waste time talking.
The rogue charged him.
They collided in a blur of teeth and claws. Kai ducked a swipe that would have taken off his head and drove his fist into the rogue’s ribs with a sickening crack. The beast snapped at his arm, teeth grazing skin before Kai twisted and slammed it against the ground.
It thrashed violently, fighting like an animal without fear of death.
Kai moved differently.
Precise.
Disciplined.
The rogue landed a hit, sending Kai sliding across the pavement.
“Kai!” I yelled.
He got up immediately, wiping blood from his lip.
“You always bring chaos with you,” he muttered toward me before charging again.
This time he was smarter.
He waited for the rogue to lunge again, then pivoted at the last second and buried his claws deep into its throat. Blood sprayed across the pavement as he drove it down hard.
He baited the rogue, dodged left, then slammed it into the ground with brutal force.
The crack of bone echoed.
The rogue snarled weakly.
Kai’s claws hovered at its throat.
“Who sent you?” he demanded.
Silence.
The rogue’s eyes flickered toward me.
The rogue struggled for a few seconds longer.
Then it went still.
Its body went limp.
Dead.
Silence returned just as suddenly as it had broken.
Kai stood over the body, chest rising and falling, blood splattered across his forearms. He shifted back slowly, his eyes returning to normal.
“You’re bleeding,” he said, stepping toward me.
I hadn’t even realized I was shaking until he grabbed my arm gently to inspect the wound.
“It’s fine,” I muttered, though my voice wasn’t steady.
His expression darkened. “That wasn’t random.”
“What do you mean?”
He glanced down at the rogue’s corpse. Its fur looked wrong up close—almost burned in places. Corrupted.
“That thing came straight for you,” he said quietly.
The whispers inside my head grew louder, swirling, almost pleased.
My stomach dropped.
“You were following me,” I said.
“Yeah.”
“Spying?”
“Protecting.”
I let out a shaky breath. “From what?”
His gaze locked onto mine.
“You think that thing was random?” he asked quietly.
I hesitated.
“You’ve been noticed, Harper.”
The words sent a chill through me.
“By who?” I whispered.
He looked toward the direction the rogue came from.
“By something that isn’t just my father.”
My heart started pounding again.
The voices in my head whispered louder.
And for the first time—
I realized this wasn’t just about a wedding.
Or Derek.
Or even The One.
Something bigger was moving.
And somehow…
It was circling me.