Inner - Female Alpha Story

Chapter Six

Vincent's POV

My languid steps tore into the quiet atmosphere of our hallway gaining everyone's immediate attention. Doubt crept into the eyes of those whom I past as they took notice to the dangerous look in my eyes. Many refrained eye contact, while my close few remained afoot. Blood dribbled down my clothing until Olive — a timid member, passed me a rag, purposefully refraining eye contact. I stopped a few feet short from my in command Beta, wiping a thin layer of the blood off before throwing it to the side.

"Killian," I gazed at him with impatience. "I hope this is important. I was in the middle of a meeting with a rival pack." I subtly wiped the remaining blood from the interaction onto my shirt.

Killian eyed the action with an insightful expression. "How'd it end?"

"We came to an understanding." I replied vaguely, unintentionally tasting the blood that had splattered onto my lips.

Killian released a light chuckle. "I see." He responded, when a faint look of recall came over him. "That's not why I called you here."

I sent him a questioning look, searching for him to continue.

"There's news of Wyatt's son."

My jaw, still coated with a light trace of enemy blood, clenched in reserved anger. The search has been all consuming, spanning over the past two weeks. My knuckles, exceptionally bruised, have certainly felt the passing time.

"His status is still unknown, but we have a likely lead." He said, not appeasing the guarded look in my eye.

"Who is this lead?" I questioned.

Killian began walking, beckoning me forward, the uncertainty in him clear and unusual.

I followed his side. "Killian." I said, not fond of his sudden pause.

He finally met my eye. "We haven't been able to crack her."

"I gave you the green light for physical inflictions, Killian."

"She hasn't responded to torture, Vincent."

We came upon our guard who opened the Brigs door for us. Killian led me down the darkening pathway, stress wrinkling his brows. A foul but distinctive smell wafted through the hallway as we passed our prisoners.

"Everyone submits to torture eventually." I said, glancing towards the closed door at the end of the long hallway.

Killian looked over to me. "You never did." He reminded me.

"That was different." I responded, ignoring the groans of pain that echoed throughout the rooms.

"You haven't met her. She's hardly even said a word." Killian said, stopping at the last door. "As your Beta, I have to warn you. There's something about her.." Killian, hardly one to exaggerate, continued. "Something about her is not normal."

Just before Killian opens the door, I hear a laugh, melodic yet gleaming with darkness. It hardens my eyes, defensiveness an automatic reaction. To what, I hadn't a clue yet

The sudden sound of bodies thudding onto the concrete pushes me past Killian, the sight that I see taking me aback.

There, standing like an avenging angel over the groaning body of Wyatt, a woman. Her brunette hair, rich in color and length, framing her sultry face, which is set in a furious scowl. Her feline eyes are a stormy grey, darker and far angrier than even the weather outside. She wiped the blood off of her sensually full lips with her black jacket. Her steel grey eyes quickly roamed the room before finally settling on me, sending an unwelcome jolt of craving straight throughout me.

Without thought, I grunted out the one word I'd never thought I'd say. "Mate."

I was in my office shortly after my unexpected meeting with The Unburnt's leader. Killian, carrying a large stack of folders came through my door, dropping it into my desk. I had requested for all the information about the woman shortly after our interaction.

"Have you gone through this?"

"Yes, and it turned up everything and nothing." Killian rather precariously responded.

"What does that mean?"

"I've discovered her reputation. The mark she's left behind, but nothing personal about her. I'm still unsure how she retained her current position."

"What mark is that?" I asked, suddenly interested.

"She's rebuilt her fathers legacy. They were a peaceful group, typical house of combatants. From what I hear, a fire spread from within and destroyed everything. She's recreated it, fortified their stronghold and turned their men into soldiers and willing mercenaries."

For a moment, I took everything in. "And reputation?"

Killian sat across from me, opening and looking through one of the files. "Anyone who's crossed their lines has ended up dead, or severely wounded." He slid the folder towards me. In it were photos of bodies, all clearly presented with deep lacerations; knife wounds.

"This.. deal that we have going," Killian continued. "It's going to require surgical handling."

I looked back down at the folder when a witness statement caught my eye.

She killed without a second thought. There's darkness in her, something.. wrong. It was in her eyes, dark and foreboding. I knew we were all dead. She slit their throats and when she came to me, she held up the knife dripping in their blood and told me that she had a message for anyone that decides that it's a good idea to cross her.

I looked up from the page, passing it to Killian.
"What was the message?"

"Morior invictus."
Death before defeat