Chapter 263: Chapter 263 Death Valley Secrets
Perry’s POV
The moment Timothy and I crossed the threshold into the shadowy hut, the air itself seemed to recoil. Despite its modest exterior, this structure had been transformed into a fortress of desperation. Ten warriors held their positions along the walls, their faces carved from stone and anxiety, knowing death had never prowled closer to their door.
During the recent slaughter, Alpha Hans had stampeded his precious family into this sanctuary like a coward, abandoning his pack members to face my warriors’ steel alone. The bitter knowledge that their leader had secured his own survival while they bled and died had poisoned whatever loyalty still festered in their hearts.
Hidden beneath the floorboards lay a secret entrance to an underground chamber—vast enough to shelter a thousand wolves, designed to protect the entire pack in times of crisis. But Hans’s selfishness had corrupted his judgment beyond redemption. Instead of opening this sanctuary to his warriors, he’d chosen his own skin, commanding others to die for his lands while women and children were left to the mercy of my forces.
This cowardice had created an unexpected complication. My warriors, bound by their code of honor, struggled with cutting down the defenseless and innocent. Their moral burden had slowed the assault, weighing on their conscience like chains.
Hans had bought himself precious moments of safety. Nothing more.
My forces were inevitable, and they would reach him soon enough. This shelter that promised protection would become his tomb.
"King Perry..." Hans snarled, each word dripping with venom as his eyes found mine through the dim light. Pure hatred blazed in his gaze—if looks could kill, my blood would already be pooling on his floor. "So you’ve come personally. Here to butcher me and my family like animals?"
I stopped just inside the doorway, deliberately taking my time to examine every corner of his pathetic fortress. My eyes moved with predatory patience across the reinforced walls, the hidden corners, the desperate preparations of a man who knew death was coming.
The silence stretched between us like a taut wire, and I could see Hans’s rage building with each passing second. Being dismissed like an insect only fed his fury.
Bound to a reinforced chair with military-grade restraints, he strained against his bonds while his mate and two young daughters remained locked away in the adjacent chamber. The innocence of his family stood in stark contrast to the blood-soaked violence that had brought us to this moment.
"What do you want?!" he roared, his voice ricocheting off the walls until it finally earned my attention.
With measured steps, I closed the distance between us, my expression revealing nothing. Without warning, I drove my fist into his face with bone-crushing force, sending him and the chair crashing backward.
Hans’s agonized howl tore through the confined space, raw and animalistic. Blood erupted from his shattered nose, cascading down his face as he fought to right himself, his vision swimming with pain and fury.
"Damn you to hell, Perry!" he gasped through mangled lips. He knew he was addressing his king with unforgivable disrespect, but what did protocol matter now? He was already marked for death—a quick end might be a mercy.
His broken nose and displaced jaw turned every word into torture, but the agony only stoked his defiance higher.
I wasn’t finished. My second blow found his ribs with surgical precision, the sickening crack of bone echoing through the hut. The pain that tore through his body was exquisite—the kind of suffering that would haunt him in whatever afterlife awaited traitors.
I tilted my head, watching him with cold curiosity, waiting to see if more foolish words would spill from his mouth. But Hans had learned quickly—the pain had stolen his voice, reducing him to pathetic whimpers.
"Now we can have a civilized conversation," I commanded, my voice quiet but carrying the weight of absolute authority. I gripped his bloodied chin, forcing his unfocused eyes to meet mine. "Tell me everything you know about Death Valley."
"Death Valley?" Timothy’s voice cut through the tension, confusion creasing his features. This wasn’t the interrogation he’d anticipated. My gamma stood frozen as the gravity of my interest settled around him.
Only two warriors remained inside with us now, the others posted outside to secure the perimeter and ensure our privacy.
"Death Valley? You want to know about that cursed place?" Hans slurred, pain making his words nearly incomprehensible. But there was something else in his voice now—a flicker of dark amusement, as if he’d just realized something that pleased him.
I tightened my grip, allowing my claws to pierce his skin and draw fresh blood. I had no patience for games or evasion.
Hans gasped, his breathing labored, but a manic gleam suddenly flickered in his swollen eyes. "You’ll die if you go to Death Valley. Just like all the others who were stupid enough to try."
"You claimed you survived that place, didn’t you? Is that true, or just another one of your pathetic lies?" I pressed, my interest sharpening to a razor’s edge. I’d heard whispers of his story through pack gossip, but now I needed the truth.
No shifter had encountered a magic user since the great war that had shattered our world three centuries ago. The conflict that had torn the supreme kingdom into seven broken territories, leaving nothing but blood and ashes in its wake. The magic users had vanished completely, their existence reduced to children’s stories and tavern tales.
Some claimed they’d never existed at all. Others dismissed them as myths created to frighten the weak. But the most persistent rumors placed them in Death Valley’s treacherous depths—a place from which no living soul had ever returned.
The valley remained perpetually shrouded in unnatural fog, a churning mist that trapped anyone foolish enough to enter, leaving them lost and mad before they died.
Yet Hans had bragged for years about surviving a week trapped in that hellscape during his youth.
"Why do you care about that place?" Hans sneered, fresh blood coating his teeth. "Planning a vacation? Why don’t you save everyone the trouble and just kill yourself instead?"
Rather than striking him again, I released his chin and began untying the ropes that held him to the chair. As the bindings fell away, Hans collapsed to the floor like a broken doll.
This wasn’t mercy. This was preparation for a different kind of lesson.
"Stand up," I commanded.
Hans struggled to his feet, swaying dangerously but driven by a stubborn pride that hadn’t been beaten out of him yet. "You think... you think you’re so powerful," he wheezed. "But Death Valley will humble you. It humbles everyone who enters."
"Tell me what you saw there."
"Shadows that move without bodies casting them. Voices that speak languages that don’t exist. Trees that bleed when you touch them." His voice dropped to a whisper, genuine terror creeping into his tone. "And things that used to be human, but aren’t anymore."
Timothy shifted uncomfortably behind me. Even he could feel the weight of Hans’s words.
"The magic users," I said. It wasn’t a question.
Hans’s laugh was bitter and broken. "Magic users? Is that what you think they are?" He wiped blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. "They’re something far worse than that, Perry. They’re what’s left when magic consumes everything human about you."
The room fell silent except for the sound of Hans’s labored breathing.
"You want to find them so badly?" Hans continued, his voice gaining strength as madness took hold. "Fine. I’ll tell you exactly how to reach Death Valley. But when those things tear your mind apart piece by piece, when they show you horrors that will make you beg for the mercy of death, remember that you asked for this."
He looked directly into my eyes, and for the first time since I’d entered this hut, I saw something that gave me pause.
True, bone-deep terror.
"The path begins at the old stone bridge, three days north of here," he whispered. "But King Perry... some knowledge comes with a price that even royalty can’t afford to pay."
