Blessed By The Moon

Chapter 39

Storm's POV:

The pack room reeked of blood.

Not fresh, no, that would have been easier to clean. This was old blood, soaked into the stone, lingering in the air like a ghost that refused to leave. It was a fitting stench for a pack ruled by war. A room bathed in violence. A ruler with no heart.

I leaned against the high-backed chair, boots propped up on the armrest, a goblet of wine in my hand. The deep red liquid swirled like spilled blood, but it didn't taste like it. It tasted like nothing. Like everything else.

A soldier knelt before me, trembling. He had already pissed himself. Pathetic.

"You failed," I said flatly, tapping a finger against the rim of the goblet. "You let rogues break past the border, and cost the life of your fellow soldiers, and you expect to continue living?"

"Alpha Storm, please-"

I threw the goblet. It shattered against the stone beside his head, wine splattering down his cheek like blood. "Don't beg. If you're going to die, die with some dignity."

His lips trembled, but he pressed them shut. At least he learned something before his end.

Elias stood beside me, arms crossed, waiting for my decision. He was one of the few I trusted, sharp, ruthless, and loyal enough to still be breathing.

"Kill him" I ordered.

The soldier let out a strangled noise, but Elias didn't hesitate. Two guards grabbed the man, dragging him from the room. His screams started before they even reached the courtyard.

I barely heard them.

I should have felt something, satisfaction, perhaps. Vengeance for the men lost because of his failure. But all I felt was emptiness.

Elias exhaled through his nose. "That was unnecessary."

I glanced at him. "Was it?"

"The men fear you. They should respect you."

"Fear and respect are the same thing when you're on your knees." I stood, rolling my shoulders. "Are we done?"

Elias hesitated.

I knew what he wanted to say. You weren't like this before.

But that was a lie. I had always been like this. The only thing that had changed was that she was gone.

Echo.

I shoved the thought down. Focus.

I stalked through the halls of my stone house, past walls lined with weapons, past soldiers who stiffened at my presence. The torches burned low, casting shadows like ghosts that whispered in my ear.

At the end of the corridor, a massive iron door loomed before me. The dungeon.

I pushed it open, the scent of damp stone and despair curling in my lungs.

Inside, a man was chained to the wall, his face barely recognizable through the bruises. Blood dripped from his split lip, his ribs sharp under torn flesh.

I crouched before him, resting my arms on my knees. "Tell me, why do traitors always look so pathetic in the end?"

He lifted his head, one eye swollen shut. He grinned, teeth stained red. "Because we regret nothing."

I laughed, low and cold. "You will."

I grabbed his throat, letting my power pulse through my fingertips. The room darkened, shadows twisting, the air thick with the scent of burnt flesh. The man let out a choked cry, his body convulsing as the life drained from him.