"In the silence of the dungeon, Vayne stretched his power across the kingdom—and the land trembled, not from his rage alone, but from what answered back."
Vayne's POV
The scent of blood clung to the dungeons like rot. It sank into stone, into rusting iron bars, into the marrow of the dead who still lingered in the air as whispers. My paws pressed into the filth, claws clicking faintly against the floor, and yet all sound was drowned beneath the growl simmering in my throat.
I was no longer Alaric in this form. I was Vayne, my Alpha King Wolf beast. The fury and the shadow carved from centuries of blood. And tonight, I was not content to sit behind Alaric's calm restraint. I roamed the narrow jail corridors, brushed the damp walls, and my amber eyes glowed in the dark. Each cell carried a story, and each chain that rattled was a ghost dragging their sorrow. My ears twitched phantom wails, screams long gone, the scent of Omegas broken until they were nothing but husks.
