Chapter 76 76
All he saw was red.
Kill.
Kill.
Kill.
Hunter screamed for blood, the blood of the bastard who had hurt her. Rage consumed him so completely that he didn’t notice her body sway, didn’t see her eyes roll back.
Fernando reacted on instinct.
He caught her before she could hit the floor, wrapping her pale, fragile body against his chest. One arm slid beneath her thighs, the other supporting her back as he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her bridal-style.
Her head lolled back, dark hair spilling like ink over his arm. She was limp. Cold. Weightless in his hold.
He laid her gently on the bed and stepped back, but his gaze betrayed him dragging again and again to the scars etched into her skin. He checked her pulse. Her breathing.
Steady.
She had fainted. Shock. Stress.
And suddenly the guilt slammed into him with crushing force.
He wanted to tear himself apart for ripping that shirt from her hands.
Still wearing only the towel around his waist, he collapsed onto the sofa beside the bed, shoulders slumping. His green eyes were locked on the vicious claw marks marring her delicate body.
His thoughts spiraled.
Everything connected now.
Her fear of his wolf pendant. His tattoo. The way she guarded her body constantly. It had never been about insecurity or curves.
It had always been the scars.
He closed his eyes briefly and mind-linked Ricardo.
I want Sofía’s entire life record. Every detail. Now.
The link severed, and his gaze returned to her.
The longer he stared at those scars, the more the urge to burn the entire world down took hold of him.
He wasn’t the first werewolf she had encountered.
Someone else had found her first.
Someone who had tried to kill her.
It was a miracle she had survived that attack. The wounds should have been fatal—but she had lived.
His mate was far stronger than he had ever imagined.
A fighter.
A lone one.
Pain crushed his chest, so sharp it stole his breath. As the rage ebbed, something far more dangerous took its place.
Emotion.
His vision blurred.
When he felt moisture trail down his cheek, he lifted his hand absently only to stare at the tear glistening on his fingertip.
He was crying.
For the first time in his life.
For his doll.
She had been hurting. For years. Carrying it alone. Silent.
He couldn’t breathe.
His hand pressed against his chest as the ache intensified, unbearable and raw. He tried to hold it back but failed.
He broke.
He cried.
For what she had endured.
For the pain etched into her skin.
For the sight of her lying there, broken and unconscious.
His fingers raked through his hair, tugging hard.
And then the rage returned hot, molten, volcanic.
Vengeance ignited in his eyes.
He would give that bastard such a horrific death that death itself would recoil in fear.
Rising, he wiped his face, grabbed one of his shirts, and carefully dressed her in it. He covered her with the duvet, tucking it around her as though she were made of glass.
After changing into a white shirt and sweats, he returned to the bed and sat beside her. His fingers brushed her cheek softly, pushing a strand of hair away so he could see her face.
Innocent. Vulnerable.
He took her small hand in his larger one and pressed a feather-light kiss into her palm.
“I’m sorry, my love,” he whispered, his voice fractured with regret. If he had known if he had even suspected he would have been gentler. More careful.
What he’d seen today had ripped the ground from beneath his feet.
He kissed her forehead, lingering, then pulled away.
He mind-linked Corinne.
Go to my room. Stay with Ana. She’s not well. Take care of her.
Okay, Alpha, Corinne replied.
Fernando cast one last look at her before leaving the room.
His stride was lethal as he marched toward his office. Two guards stood in the corridor.
“I want Ricardo and Étienne in my office. Now,” he roared.
They scattered instantly.
Étienne had returned yesterday with information on the rogues and now the guards could feel it. The air around their Alpha was unhinged.
He wasn’t just angry.
He was murderous.
The office door slammed shut behind him.
Hunter surged beneath his skin, pacing, clawing, demanding release. All Fernando wanted was blood wanted to feel it slick his hands, wanted to hear bones break.
Hell was about to break loose.
The door burst open as Ricardo and Étienne rushed in, slamming it shut behind them. Both were breathing hard, eyes wide his tone alone had warned them.
“My mate was hurt,” Fernando snarled through clenched teeth.
Shock crossed their faces.
“What do you mean?” Étienne asked carefully.
Fernando shot him a deadly glare though it wasn’t meant for him.
“She has claw marks,” Fernando bit out. “Old ones. Years old.”
Their eyes widened.
“I know werewolf claws when I see them,” he growled.
Silence swallowed the room.
“Do you know who did it?” Ricardo asked, his voice lethal.
Whoever had hurt their Luna had already signed his death sentence.
“Give me his name,” Étienne snarled, venom dripping from every word, “and I’ll bring you his head.”
Fernando’s lips curled back, eyes blazing.
“I’ll find that fucker myself,” he growled. “And no god, no lord, no hell will save him from what I’ll do.”
He sounded less like a man
And more like a monster unleashed.