The stone hummed under Cael's heavy footsteps, echoing in his chest with a dull thud. The black leather doublet strained across his shoulders, and his knuckles were white from his clenched fists. The scent of smoke clinging to him mingled with the acrid stench of rage.
"An Omega's weakness…"
The words of his father, Edrick, burned worse than glowing coals. They sank into his flesh, tormented his mind, and laid bare his flaw. Cael's inability to control his choice, his mate—Edrick had turned it inside out, transforming it into a badge of shame.
The wolf within howled, claws scraping against Cael's ribs, demanding. It demanded the only thing that could drown out this endless roar. Cael felt the bond pulsing in his blood, like molten iron in his veins, a fire in his chest. It promised madness if he did not quench its thirst, if he did not subdue this wild force. His temples throbbed; the world narrowed down to a single, unbearable desire.
The door to his chambers flew open with a crash, slamming against the wall. Cael stormed inside, enveloped by the scent of old leather, cold stone, and the dying embers in the hearth. He turned to the guard.
"Bring her. Now."
His voice broke into a snarl. Without a word, the guard darted away.
Cael began to pace the room, from the walls to the fireplace, from the window to the doors. Each step was like the strike of a hammer. The wind outside howled, foretelling a storm, and the sound only amplified his internal turmoil. He was on the edge. On the verge of losing control, on the verge of tearing apart anyone who dared stand in his way. Edrick… Edrick would pay for this. For the humiliation. For the words. For this agonizing weakness he was forced to feel because of her.
Her.
The smell of smoke and leather became suffocating. He was choking on his own anger, on this stifling need he so despised. She wasn't just a mark; she was shackles. A chain. And Edrick, cursed Edrick, had used it to display his weakness before the entire pack.
The door opened softly again. Alina entered, her eyes downcast, her shoulders trembling slightly. She wore a simple grey dress and was barefoot. Old, purple bruises marked her wrists. Her hair was tangled, her eyes red from lack of sleep.
Cael inhaled. The scent of wild herbs and fear struck his instincts, overwhelming him. In an instant, rage turned into hunger, fury into predatory desire. It was vile, disgusting. She was disgusting.
"Here," his voice was a low growl, thick with menace.
Alina froze two steps away, her gaze pinned to the floor. She did not dare move; she did not dare raise her head. Her breathing became shallow and convulsive. Every cell of her body screamed with terror.
He grabbed her roughly by the wrist, pulling her toward him. She flinched, her body tensing.
And in that moment, as soon as their skin touched, a flash of pain pierced him. Then… silence. An icy calm flooded his veins, displacing the searing pain and the frantic pulsing. He closed his eyes, absorbing this sudden stillness, this blessed void that her proximity brought.
His racing heart slowed, syncing with her trembling, faint rhythm. The rage at his father, at the council, at the whole world retreated. In its place came a cold, predatory obsession. He held her like his medicine, like his prison, like his most shameful secret.
Cael tightened his grip on her wrist. Alina let out a soft cry, her fingers clenching instinctively as she tried to pull away, but he did not let go.
His gaze slid down her neck, lingering on the mark he had left the previous night. It was proof. An undeniable right. He felt the taste of victory—bitter as poison, but victory nonetheless. Over her, over his wolf, over his own weakness.
"The pack…" he said slowly, his voice as cold as ice, "considers you ballast. A burden to be cast off."
Alina looked up. In her eyes was pure, paralyzing, silent horror. He saw her lips tremble, but not a sound escaped them. And in that horror, Cael found a twisted satisfaction. She depended solely on his will, on his decision. She was nothing without him. And that was all that mattered.
He leaned down to her ear, his breath scorching her skin.
"Your silence," he whispered, "is the price of your life."
Her eyes widened. She stopped breathing.
"If you ever…" his voice grew slightly louder, the threat mounting, "try to seek sympathy from anyone. If you ever dare turn to anyone but me, I…" He squeezed her jaw slightly, forcing her to give him her full attention. "I will make you regret the day you were born."
Cael shoved her away abruptly. Alina stumbled back, nearly falling, her eyes darting around for support, but her legs would not hold her.
"Get out."
He commanded her. Without hesitation, she bolted for the door as if fleeing certain death. The door slammed shut behind her, but the scent of wild herbs remained on his skin, in his nostrils, soaking into his very core.
The wolf within finally fell silent. It submitted. To a temporary peace.
But this peace was deceptive. Cael knew it. It was the calm before a new storm, a new demand, a new flash of rage that only she could quell. And he hated her for it. Hated her more than ever.
He began to pace the room again. The cold air, the heavy scent of old leather and the fireplace smoke—which was slowly dying out, leaving only smoldering embers—all of it weighed on him. Cael felt the tension slowly returning, though not with the same fiery intensity as before she had arrived. The sensation of her scent, so deeply imprinted in his consciousness, was almost as strong as her physical presence. It reminded him of his weakness, of the fact that even now, after he had humiliated her and broken her, he was still dependent on her.
The wind intensified outside. It whistled through the cracks and beat against the stone walls of the castle like a vicious beast trying to break in. Cael approached the massive oak desk where a single candle was burning down. The flame flickered, casting grotesque shadows on the walls where ancient tapestries depicting hunts and battles hung.
His gaze landed on a scroll lying among other papers. They were orders regarding patrols, food supplies, and preparations for winter. The usual concerns of an Alpha, but now they seemed meaningless, insignificant compared to the internal storm ravaging him. Edrick… his father. He had always been Cael's shadow, his rival. Always doubting him, always looking for flaws. And now, when Cael was so close to total control, Edrick had found his weakest spot.
"Omega…" Cael whispered, the word falling from his lips like a curse.
How could he have allowed this? How could he have let his wolf choose this? A weak, fragile, pathetic Omega who only created problems, who weakened him in the eyes of the pack. He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to be flawless.
Cael turned sharply and walked to the fireplace. He kicked one of the logs, and it shattered, spraying sparks across the cold stone. The sparks died out quickly, leaving only the acrid smell of char.
He felt trapped. Trapped by his own nature, by his own wolf. This bond… it was both a curse and a salvation. It gave him temporary relief, but in exchange, it demanded his freedom, his pride.
Cael closed his eyes, trying to drown out the remnants of anxiety that still hung in the air of his chambers. He needed to focus. He needed to prove to everyone—and first and foremost to himself—that he was in control of the situation. That he was the Alpha. That he was not weak.
Edrick's words surfaced in his mind again, along with his mocking, superior gaze. He remembered how the other council members had exchanged looks, how they whispered behind his back. They saw it too. They saw his weakness.
"They won't dare…" Cael growled. "They won't dare to doubt."
But they already did. And he knew it. The only way to silence those doubts was to show his power. His boundless, absolute power. And she was merely a tool. An instrument for achieving his goals.
Cael paced the room again, his movements becoming more measured, colder. The rage retreated, leaving behind nothing but steely resolve. He had to use her. Use her weakness, her fear, her dependency to strengthen his own position. To prove he was worthy of being the Alpha.
He stopped at the window, pressing his palm against the cold glass. The wind wailed louder, kicking up the snow that had already begun to fall, shrouding the castle in a white shroud. Winter was coming, and with it, new trials. But he was ready. He was ready for anything.
And this girl… Alina… she would be his weapon. His shield. His proof. She would be what he used to demonstrate his strength.
Cael turned away from the window, his gaze falling on the hearth. The embers were nearly gone, but there was a sinister beauty in their fading glow. He felt cold control taking complete possession of him. He was ready for the next step. Ready to show everyone that Cael would not break. Never.
He had to think about the future. About tomorrow. About the next council meeting. And about how to make the pack fall silent.
"No one…" he whispered into the silence of the room, "no one will dare question my right."
His fists clenched. He felt the muscles in his arms tighten. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead. He was the Alpha. And he would act like the Alpha.
He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back. Thoughts leaped like wild animals. Plans formed in his head, one after another. All of them revolved around one thing—strengthening his power, asserting his dominance. And Alina… she was part of that plan. An essential part.
He walked to the desk, grabbed a scroll, and unfurled it. His eyes ran over the lines. But the words blurred, failing to reach his consciousness. His thoughts were occupied with something else. Occupied with her. Occupied with his own dependency.
Cael knew this battle had only just begun. The battle with his father, with the council, with his own wolf. Но he would not back down. Never.
He extinguished the candle. Darkness enveloped the room, with only a faint reflection from the embers providing a sliver of light. Cael remained standing in the middle of the room in absolute silence, broken only by the howling wind outside. He was the Alpha. And he would make everyone understand that.
This peace Alina brought was only temporary. But it was necessary. It gave him a breathing spell to gather his thoughts, to find himself again. And now, he was ready to act.
He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply of the remnants of her scent that still lingered in the air. It was like a drug he despised, but one he could not do without. Cael hated this feeling. He hated being tied, being dependent on someone—especially her.
This bond was a disgrace. Edrick was right. Edrick was always right when it came to his weaknesses. But Cael would change that. He would flip the game. He would use this weakness to make himself stronger.
He imagined her face, her frightened eyes. Satisfaction washed over him again, bringing a sense of total control. She was in his power. Completely. And he would not waste this opportunity.
Cael opened his eyes again. The darkness of the room felt dense, tangible. But he saw everything clearly. His path was laid out.
He had to show the pack that his choice of a mate was not a weakness, but a demonstration of his absolute authority. He took what others despised and made it his own. He turned her into his property, into his tool.
Cael approached the massive chest standing in the corner of the room. He opened it, and the scent of cedar hit his nose. Inside lay maps, old documents, scrolls. Everything that belonged to his ancestors, the Alphas before him.
He pulled out one of the maps and spread it on the desk. It marked their pack's territories, borders, forests, and rivers. Their legacy. What he was meant to protect, what he was meant to expand.
His gaze slid over the map, but he didn't actually see the forests and rivers. Instead, he saw the faces of the elders, their distrustful looks. He heard their whispers, their doubts. And Edrick's voice, ringing in his ears.
"An Omega's weakness…"
Cael ground his teeth. His knuckles turned white again.
He was not weak. He was the Alpha. And he would prove it.
He had to be ruthless. Cold. Dispassionate. Only then could he hold onto his power; only then could he protect his pack. And if that required using her, breaking her, turning her into a compliant shadow—then so be it.
His plan began to take a definite shape. He had to isolate her from the pack so that no one could influence her, no one could use her against him. She had to be entirely dependent on him, on his mercy.
Cael closed the chest, his movements sharp and abrupt. He needed to act. Immediately.
He turned toward the door. He wanted to call the guard, to give new orders, but he stopped. No. Now was not the time. He needed to think everything through to the smallest detail. Every step. Every word.
He returned to the fireplace, where the embers had almost completely cooled. He reached out his hand to the cold stone. The cold seeped into his skin, calming him.
He remembered how her body had trembled in his hands. How she had cried out when he tightened his grip. That was the manifestation of his power. Her fear was the confirmation of his dominance. And it felt good.
But beneath that pleasant feeling lay something else. Something dark that he did not want to admit. A need. That deep, primal, animal need for her that made him hate himself.
Cael recoiled from the fireplace. He could not allow himself to give in to this. Never. He was the Alpha. And an Alpha shows no weakness.
He wiped his palm across his face, trying to erase the remnants of that intrusive thought. He needed to think of practical things. How to lead the pack. How to suppress the opposition. How to assert his rule.
And it all started with her. With Alina.
He would lock her away. He would make it so she belonged to him alone. He would make her understand that her only value lay in her submission.
His gaze fell on one of the paintings on the wall. It depicted a wolf standing on a mountaintop under a full moon. Solitary, powerful, unquestioned.
Cael felt his own resolve harden. He would be that wolf. He would rule. And no one—not a single person, not a single creature, not even his own nature—would be able to stop him.
He approached the desk again, grabbing a quill and a scroll. Light from beneath the guard's door began to seep through, herald of the dawn. He had too much to do.
Words began to form in his head, clear and concise. Orders. Instructions. His plan was coming to life. And Alina would be part of it.
He began to write, his handwriting sharp and confident. Every word was saturated with his determination. He was ready.
His gaze flickered to the spot where Alina had just been standing. The scent of herbs was still there. As a reminder. As a promise.
Cael smirked. Bitterly, coldly. But it was the smirk of a man who had regained control.