Chapter 21 Trembling - Aleksandr’s POV
I stood abruptly, unable to remain still with the rage coursing through my veins. Amelia flinched at the sudden movement, her fear scent spiking sharply in the morning air. I couldn't bear it—couldn't bear seeing her cower from me as she'd cowered from them, even if my anger wasn't directed at her. "Stay here," I managed, the words rough through elongated canines. "I'll return shortly." Without waiting for a response, I turned and strode away, leaving her trembling in the garden. The guards would ensure she was safe, and right now, I needed to be anywhere but near her—before I frightened her further. Before Skoll and I did something unforgivable in front of her eyes.
'We should return to her,' Skoll growled as I pushed through the garden doors. 'She'll think we abandoned her.'
'We need to deal with Blackwater first,' I responded, my mental voice tight with control. 'She deserves justice.'
Servants flattened themselves against walls as I passed, eyes downcast, bodies tensed in submission. They recognised the signs of an Alpha barely containing his wolf—the lengthened claws I couldn't fully retract, the purple glow that I knew still burned in my eyes. The rational part of my mind registered their fear with distaste. I had never harmed castle staff, had established strict protocols to ensure their safety and dignity. Yet instinct ran deeper than reason, and right now, I radiated danger.
The deeper I descended into the castle, the colder the air became. The lower levels housed various security facilities—armories, guard quarters, and, below those, the cells. I rarely visited this area, preferring to delegate such matters, but today was different. Today was personal.
"Your Majesty," the guard captain straightened as I approached, his eyes widening at my appearance. "We weren't expecting—"
"The prisoner," I interrupted. "Blackwater. Take me to him."
"Of course, sir." He nodded sharply, unclipping a key ring from his belt. "This way."
The cell block was dimly lit, the air heavy with disinfectant that couldn't quite mask the underlying scents of fear and desperation. Most of the cells stood empty—I was not in the habit of imprisoning wolves without significant cause. But the third door on the right had been occupied since yesterday.
"Open it," I ordered, standing back as the captain unlocked the heavy door.
Marcus Blackwater sat on a narrow cot against the far wall, his once-immaculate suit rumpled, his carefully styled hair disheveled. He looked up as the door swung open, jumping to his feet when he recognised me.
"Your Majesty," he began, smoothing his jacket with an attempt at dignity. "There's been some misunder—"
"Do you know why you're in this cell, Blackwater?" I cut him off, my voice dangerously soft as I stepped into the small space.
He shook his head, his expression a carefully constructed mask of confused innocence. "No, Your Majesty. I thought we had reached an agreement regarding my pack's protection."
I studied him, noting the calculation behind his eyes, the way he held himself—ready to grovel if necessary, but still believing himself worthy of respect. Still believing his actions justifiable.
"So you haven't allowed the systematic abuse of Amelia Lovelace since she was sixteen?" I asked, the words precisely measured despite the fury building behind them.
Understanding dawned in his eyes, quickly followed by dismissal. "She has no wolf, my king," he replied, as if this simple fact explained everything—justified everything.
Skoll snarled, the sound escaping my throat before I could stop it. The guard captain backed quietly out of the cell, pulling the door mostly closed to give us privacy, though I knew he and others would be watching through the small reinforced window.
"There is no excuse for abusing innocents, Blackwater," I said, advancing on him slowly. "No justification for starving a child. For cutting her with silver. For burning her skin and breaking her bones."
He took a step back, his confidence finally wavering. "Your Majesty, discipline is necessary to maintain pack order. The girl was difficult, constantly daydreaming, talking to herself. She needed firm guidance."
"Guidance," I repeated, the word like poison on my tongue. "Is that what you call locking her in a basement? Having your beta slice open her back with a deliberately blunted silver blade?"
His back hit the wall. Nowhere left to retreat. "I didn't know the extent of Dominic's methods," he tried, the lie evident in his quickened heartbeat, the sour note of fear in his scent.
I tilted my head, studying him with Skoll's eyes. "No? Then let me educate you."
With a slight nod toward the door, I summoned the guards back in—two of them, mountain-sized wolves in human form, their faces impassive as they entered.
"Hold him," I instructed. "Face to the wall."
They moved with practiced efficiency, grabbing Blackwater's arms before he could resist, spinning him to face the rough stone wall of the cell.
"What are you doing?" he demanded, struggling uselessly against their grip. "I am an Alpha! You have no right—"
"I have every right," I said coldly. "You are in my kingdom, under my rule. And you have failed in the most fundamental duty of an Alpha—to protect those under your care."
I nodded to one of the guards, who ripped Blackwater's shirt away from his back with a single violent motion, exposing pale skin unmarked by hardship or punishment. He had never suffered as he had made others suffer.
"Your Majesty, please," Blackwater's voice had lost its authoritative edge, fear bleeding through. "Whatever grievances the girl has shared, I'm sure we can address them diplomatically."
I pulled a knife from my belt—a silver hunting blade with a wicked edge. Walking to the rough stone wall, I ran the blade against it deliberately, the scraping sound filling the small cell as the edge dulled.
"Diplomatic solutions," I mused, testing the now-blunted edge with my thumb, "are for those who have shown basic humanity. You denied a child food. You allowed her to be tortured for years. You delivered her to me like an unwanted animal, expecting me to finish what you started."
Understanding dawned in his eyes, true terror replacing his earlier anxiety. "No," he whispered. "Please, Your Majesty—"
The first cut silenced him, his words dissolving into a strangled gasp as I dragged the dull silver blade across his back. Not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to burn, to scar—especially with silver's resistance to werewolf healing.
"This is what she felt," I said calmly, making a second cut that crossed the first. "Every time your beta decided she needed 'discipline.'"
Blackwater's screams echoed off the cell walls as I continued, methodically recreating the pattern I'd seen on Amelia's back. The guards held him steady, their faces blank, though I caught the approval in their scents. My reputation for brutality wasn't unearned, but I reserved such treatment for those who truly deserved it—those who abused power, who hurt the defenseless.
When I finally stepped back, my hands were sticky with his blood, the silver knife's dull edge now gleaming red. Blackwater hung limp in the guards' grip, whimpering pathetically, his back a crosshatched mess of shallow cuts that would heal far too slowly for comfort.
"Put him back on the cot," I instructed the guards. "Ensure the wounds remain untreated."
They lowered him onto the thin mattress, his body shaking with shock and pain. I wiped the blade clean on what remained of his shirt, then returned it to my belt.
"Consider this a preliminary lesson," I told him, my voice flat. "You'll remain here until I decide your ultimate fate. Your pack will be informed that you've been detained indefinitely for crimes against the crown."
"My pack," he gasped, his voice raw from screaming. "They need me. The rogues—"
"Will be dealt with," I finished for him. "By me. Not by someone who can't even protect a child in his care."
I turned to leave, then paused at the cell door, looking back at his broken form. "I'll see you again soon, Blackwater. We have much more to discuss regarding Beta Dominic and the others who participated in Amelia's abuse."
The cell door clanged shut behind me, the sound echoing with finality through the stone corridors. The guards resumed their posts without comment, though I caught the glimmer of respect in their eyes. Justice for the defenseless was something any wolf could understand.
As I climbed the stairs back toward daylight, I felt Skoll's rage finally subsiding, retreating to a more manageable simmer rather than the boiling fury that had driven us below ground.
'It's not enough,' my wolf growled, still unsatisfied.
'No,' I agreed silently. 'But it's a start.'
I glanced down at my hands, stained with Blackwater's blood, and knew I couldn't return to Amelia like this. She had seen enough violence, enough blood. Whatever else happened between us, I would not add to her nightmares.
First, I would clean up. Then I would find her, apologise for frightening her, and begin the long process of proving that not all wolves with power abused it. That she was safe here, with me—despite my reputation, despite what she had just witnessed of my capacity for violence.
It would not be easy. Trust, once broken repeatedly, was nearly impossible to rebuild. But for her, I would try. For the girl with mismatched eyes and a spine of steel beneath her fear, I would try.