The Alpha's Silent Bride: Seventh Time's The Charm

Chapter 90: 090: Who’s your Alpha?

~ RONAN ~

I’ve never had a more perfect night than falling asleep with Roselle in my arms. Waking up beside her should’ve been enough to put me in a good mood, but the unexpected appearance of that bloody Lycan has been gnawing at me since dawn.

I stare down at her sleeping form, curled against my chest, completely unaware of the storm raging inside my head. Her red hair spills across the pillow like fire, her lips slightly parted, her breathing soft and even.

Fuck.

Holding her like this feels... right. As though she was always meant to be here, wrapped safely in my arms. It’s becoming dangerously easy to imagine waking up beside her every morning for the rest of my life.

Gently, I ease myself out of bed, careful not to wake her. She lets out a soft sigh in her sleep, instinctively reaching for the warmth I’d left behind, and my chest tightens painfully. I watch her for a moment longer, memorizing the curve of her cheek, the way her lashes rest against her skin, the faint mark I’d left on her neck last night.

Leaning down, I press a lingering kiss to her forehead, brushing a loose strand of hair away from her face.

Another morning she’ll wake up without finding me beside her. It kills me to leave her, but I don’t have a choice.

That Lycan is still locked inside our dungeon, and I need answers.

Lycans have been extinct for years now. If this one isn’t the last of its kind, then someone is breeding them... or worse, turning wolves into those bloodthirsty monsters. If we don’t uncover the source and wipe it out now, every pack on the continent will be at risk.

Casting one last look at Roselle, I force myself to turn away. I get dressed in a dark T-shirt and a pair of loose pants before striding out of our room.

The early morning air is crisp against my skin as I make my way across the pack grounds. The sun is just beginning to rise, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink, but the beauty of it does nothing to ease the tension coiled in my muscles.

"Hey, man. Meet me at the dungeon," I mindlink Nikolai. "We need to check on that fucker."

"On my way," he replies almost immediately.

The prison guards snap to attention the moment they see me approaching, each of them lowering their heads in a respectful bow.

"Alpha."

I acknowledge them with a curt nod without breaking stride.

The dungeon is divided into several wings, each reserved for a different class of prisoner. One houses pack traitors and conspirators. Another holds murderers and violent offenders awaiting judgment. The smaller cells are reserved for thieves, rogues, and wolves guilty of lesser crimes.

But the innermost cell, the one reinforced with the strongest enchantments and thickest bars — that’s where we keep the monsters. And that’s exactly where the Lycan is waiting.

Nikolai catches up with me before I reach the cell, falling into step beside me without a word. His face is set in a grim line, mirroring my own tension. We exchange a quick glance, the kind that comes from years of fighting side by side. No words are needed. We both know how dangerous this thing is.

The Lycan is still in its beast form when we arrive, pacing the reinforced cell like a caged predator. Its massive body barely fits in the space, black fur matted with dried blood, amber eyes glowing with feral rage. The heavy chains rattle with every movement.

Nikolai exchanges a look with me. "Why is it still in its Lycan form?" he asks, voice low. "Most shifters would have reverted by now."

I narrow my eyes at the creature, watching the way its muscles ripple under the fur, the way its claws scrape against the stone floor. "Maybe it’s still berserk. The transformation might be locked in place because of the rage. Or whatever created it did something to keep it this way."

Nikolai nods, already reaching for the specialized tranquilizer arrow he’d prepared. The tip gleams with a potent sedative designed to force a shift back to human form. The Lycan notices immediately. Its head snaps toward us, lips pulling back in a snarl that reveals rows of razor-sharp fangs. It charges at the bars, chains clanking loudly as it throws its massive weight against them.

"Easy," I mutter, stepping closer. "We’re not here to kill you. Yet."

The Lycan roars, slamming against the reinforced bars again. Nikolai doesn’t hesitate. He loads the arrow into the specialized crossbow and fires it with deadly accuracy. The dart shoots through the gap in the bars and embeds itself deep in the creature’s thigh before it can dodge.

The Lycan lets out a pained whine, followed by a furious growl that shakes the dungeon walls. It thrashes wildly, claws scraping against stone, but the sedative works fast. Its movements grow sluggish. The massive body convulses once, twice, and then the shift begins.

Bones crack and reform with sickening pops. Fur recedes into skin. The monstrous form shrinks, collapsing in on itself until a young man in his early twenties lies naked and unconscious on the cold floor. His body is covered in scars, old and new, and his breathing is shallow but steady.

I stare at him through the bars, studying every detail. Something about him doesn’t add up. The proportions, the way the scars look more like failed transformations than natural battle wounds... "He’s not a full-blooded Lycan," I say quietly. "He’s a wolf that was converted. Someone turned him."

Nikolai’s jaw tightens. "Who changed you?" I demand, voice echoing through the cell. "Who is your Alpha?"

We’re met with silence. The young man remains unconscious, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths.

Nikolai makes a move to grab another shocking equipment meant to torture him, but I stop him with a raised hand. "Not yet."

I lean closer to the bars. "I could spare you. Help you become a werewolf again if you tell me who your Alpha is... and where their hideout is."

Another silence stretches. The man’s eyes flutter open slightly, but he says nothing.

I nod to Nikolai. "Shoot him."

The electric shock hits him hard. He yells in pain, body jerking violently against the chains.

"I hate every last one of you," he growls through gritted teeth. "So if you’re waiting for me to spill my guts, stop wasting your time. Kill me... because that’s the only thing you’re getting from me."

When the shock fades, I step forward again. "I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to make you suffer, bit by bit. Shred your limbs. Feed you your own flesh. Marinate you in the worst pain imaginable. But it could be that way... or you talk and get back your werewolf life. And if you don’t have a pack... I could take you into mine, and give you a normal life again."

He laughs, a weak, broken sound, and gives me a middle finger with his chained hand.

Nikolai shoots him again. He winces, crying out in pain, body convulsing.

Finally, he speaks, voice raspy and defiant. "I’m only going to give you a hint... the Alpha is closer to you than you think."

Nikolai moves to shoot him again, but I stop him. "One more shot could kill him. I don’t want him dead yet."