†Noca's Pov†
I followed my beta out of the hall, stepping into the wide, open expanse of the pack quarters.
The night air bit against my skin, sharp and cold but the storm inside me burned hotter than any winter wind. Earlier, I had left the pack square to see the offering brought to me from the West—the appeasement that bastard dared to send after slaughtering my family and pack.
I had wanted to kill him with my own hands in the most painful way possible. I had dreamed of dragging out his death, savoring every scream and making him choke on his own despair as he watched me rip apart everything he loved. His Luna. His daughter. Each one, taken slowly and painfully, until he begged for a death I would not grant.
And yet the Alpha Council had tied my hands, binding me to their decree of peace. I could not touch his land or his people.
But I could wound him where it mattered. Through his pride. Through his heart. Through his precious daughter, the one I had heard so much about.
That was why I demanded her. That was why she was here.
If I cannot sink my claws into him or burn his pack to ash, then I will do it through her. She is mine now—my offering, my possession. I will break her piece by piece until she has nothing left.
And when he hears of it, when whispers reach his ears of what became of the daughter he cherished, he will bleed in ways no blade can cut.
I admit, when I first saw her at the hall, I faltered. Beauty like hers was dangerous. She had a softness that tempted, a fragility that whispered of innocence.
But I knew better because the Nuella I had heard of was not soft. She was bold and daring enough to claw her way into a man's world and dominate it. The first female CEO in the country. A threat and rival to me in business, and by reputation, one not easily cowed.
I had half-expected fire in her eyes. Instead, she trembled like a leaf in the wind. Perhaps it was all a performance. Perhaps beneath that weak exterior lay the real Nuella—the steel everyone spoke of. If so, it mattered little. Whether soft or sharp, I would bend her. I would strip her down until nothing remained but submission.
That was her purpose now.
"What part of the pack are the rogues attacking?" I asked, my voice a low growl as my beta kept pace beside me.
It made no sense. Rogues rarely dared set foot anywhere near the North. This land was death for their kind. Outside the borders they skulked, waiting for stragglers and preying on the weak. But to enter within? That was suicide.
Unless… they had chosen their deaths.
"Alpha," my beta called, gesturing ahead. His hand pointed toward the pavement, where bodies sprawled lifeless on the stone.
I counted four. Four rogues cut down by my warriors. But there was a fifth still breathing and alive. Bound to a heavy log, his body a ruin of wounds, blood pooling beneath him.
"The soldiers cut down the others," my beta explained. "I kept this one alive for questioning."
I nodded once, stepping closer to the figure on the ground. His chest rose and fell raggedly, his breaths wet with pain. But I cared nothing for his suffering. He was still useful to me.
I crouched low, my shadow falling over him, and snarled in his ear.
"Who sent you?" My voice was the promise of death. "Tell me who dares to move against me and perhaps I'll be merciful enough to let you crawl away with your miserable life."
Of course, I lied. There would be no mercy. Even if he confessed, I would spill his blood across the stones. No rogue trespasses into the North and leaves alive.
Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes met mine and to my surprise, his lips twisted into a grin.
I smiled back, slow and cold. He had no idea the depths of torment I could unleash.
I rose and motioned to my beta. "Crack his bones. A few will be enough to loosen his tongue."
My beta stepped forward, rolling his shoulders in anticipation, the weight of violence already in his stance. But before he could land the first blow, the rogue convulsed.
His body arched violently and foam spilled from his lips. His eyes rolled back, his veins bulging against his skin. His body jerked twice and then collapsed in a final, lifeless spasm.
"The death drug," my beta muttered grimly.
I didn't need his words as i already knew.
The death drug. A coward's poison. A tool used by those too fearful to let their pawns be caught. Rogues sent on such missions carried it in their veins, ticking down like sand in an hourglass. Their lives tied to the will of their master.
If they succeeded, they returned for the antidote. If they failed and their time ran out, the poison would claim them. Foam on their lips and death on their tongue.
Whoever sent them had not wanted the truth revealed. Whoever sent them had wealth, power and enough control to command rogues into certain death.
I stared at the corpse, my jaw tight, my pulse steady but sharp with rage.
I returned to meet the offering waiting for me, having already instructed my beta on what to do with the bodies.
The truth was, they weren't my concern at the moment. Dead men could wait because eventually, I would unearth who sent them and when I did, the punishment would be a blood-soaked lesson carved into history. But right now, my attention belonged elsewhere—on breaking the haughty alpha's daughter.
My steps carried me toward my chambers, certain that my mother had already placed her inside like I asked her to. That cage was where she would remain from now on. I had crafted it with my own hands for this very purpose.
Inside it, she would learn the true definition of captivity. She would eat only when I permitted it and starve for as long as I desired. She would taste water on my whim, see daylight only if I allowed it, and crawl at my mercy until her pride was nothing but dust beneath my feet.
I would ensure her suffering grew so unbearable she would pray for death. But death would never answer her. And with every torment I devised, her father would receive the recordings—each scream, each sob, each broken plea a dagger sent back to him.
When I pushed the door open, her startled gasp betrayed her. She stiffened at the sight of the "gifts" I had prepared while awaiting her arrival. The color drained from her face and when she nearly stumbled back in panic, I caught her firmly by the arm, preventing the fall.
This was nothing but the prologue. How much more would she unravel when she discovered what else I had planned for her?
"Careful, princess," I murmured, mockery lacing my tone as my fingers grazed her trembling cheek. "You wouldn't want to bruise that delicate skin."
She shuddered under my touch and yanked herself away, defiance flaring briefly in her eyes.
"What is the meaning of this?" she demanded, her voice sharp though her body trembled. Her gaze flickered to the cage etched with her name. "Surely this isn't how the Northerners treat their bride."
For a fleeting second, her words caught me off guard but then a low, humorless laugh tore from my chest, echoing through the chamber like a curse.
"Bride?" I repeated, my voice dripping with venom and mockery.
"I see… so your dear alpha father fed you lies to bring you here willingly," I sneered, the edges of my lips curling into something cruel.
I closed the distance between us, tilting her chin upward with two fingers until her wide eyes were forced to meet mine.
"You weren't sent here as anyone's bride, princess Nuella," I told her slowly, savoring every word. "You were sent here as my offering. And by offering, I trust you understand what that means."
I let the silence stretch, heavy and suffocating before lowering my voice to a chilling whisper.
"You're not a slave. Not even a person. You're an object and mine to use however I please."