Hidden Secrets (editing and improving the story)

Chapter 44 - The masks have fallen

Alexander's pov:

We searched everywhere for Roxanne, but she was nowhere to be found. Where could she have gone? I retraced the spot where she had been standing, looking for any clue—footprints, broken branches, anything—but it was nearly impossible to tell. The chaos of the attack had left the ground covered in dozens of prints, overlapping and indistinct.

I had given her a cellphone, but up here, with the dense forest and mountain terrain, it probably had no signal. Mind linking was out of the question—she wasn't part of our pack. Our usual means of communication were severely limited.

Then my scouts radioed in. They'd found tracks on a narrow path near where Roxanne had been waiting.

I ordered them to follow it.

After carefully tracking, they reported three different sets of footprints—one clearly male, the other two belonging to either females or teenage boys. Most importantly, the trail wasn't far. By their estimate, whoever they belonged to had passed through roughly an hour ago.

Time was running out.

Roxanne's pov:

I was right behind Bartholomew and Elektra when they slipped into an old, weathered log cabin. Thick, tangled vegetation surrounded the place, cutting it off from the world. No one could find us here.

I waited a few moments, making sure Bartholomew wouldn't come back outside, then crept to one of the windows. Peering inside, I saw him shove Elektra roughly onto the bed. He ripped off her gag and started shouting at her.

"Where did you say you'd come here?" he barked, eyes blazing with rage.

"Even if I did, do you think anyone could find me in a place like this?" she replied defiantly.

"Don't play games with me! I've had enough of you! And stop calling me 'father.' I'm not your damn father!" he roared, his voice shaking with fury.

He ran his fingers through his hair and began pacing, his anger barely contained. After a few minutes, he opened a cupboard, pulled out a bottle of whiskey and a glass, and poured himself a drink. He downed it in one gulp, refilled the glass, and drank again, the alcohol slowly calming his storm.

Then, unexpectedly, he stood and began stripping off his clothes.

"What are you doing?" Elektra asked, her voice trembling with fear.

"What I should have done a long time ago," he said darkly.

"No, please! Don't do this! You'll regret it!" she begged desperately.

"Don't worry, I won't regret a thing."

My blood ran cold. He was going to hurt her—rape her. Everyone knew about his obsession with Skylar, Elektra's mother. Elektra looked just like her.

"No, I have to stop this. Now!" I thought fiercely.

I scanned the ground and spotted a heavy piece of wood nearby. Grabbing it, I steadied myself and pushed open the cabin door carefully. I was ready to strike when Bartholomew whipped around, his eyes flashing with fury.

"What are you doing here, you filthy omega?" he snarled.

"I won't let you harm Elektra. I promised her mother I'd protect her," I said, holding the wood steady.

"Her mother? Don't make me laugh. Don't talk to me about that traitor," he spat.

"Her mother was no traitor. She was a decent, strong woman—a fighter."

"Shut up, woman," he growled, advancing toward me.

"No. I've stayed silent too long. It's time the truth comes out."