Alpha's Ruin: He Betrayed Me, I'll Make Him Kneel

Rhea’s heart hammered against her ribs, but she kept her face as still as carved stone.

Inside her mind, River paced back and forth. The silver wolf’s claws dug into the dirt, ready to spring the moment blood spilled. Rhea forced her shoulders to drop, taking a slow breath to settle her racing pulse.

"Listen to me," Rhea said, keeping her voice steady. "I am not here to start a fight. I am here to speak with Kaleb, and he is the only one I want to talk to."

The guards exchanged quick glances before turning back to her with sneers.

"And what about our Alpha?" one of them asked, stepping closer. The stench of his wolf, a sharp scent like copper, hung heavy in the warm afternoon air. "Do you plan to keep him waiting?"

Rhea stood her ground, refusing to flinch as the guard tried to intimidate her. Showing weakness to an unfamiliar pack was an easy way to get torn apart.

She met his gaze directly, forcing her voice to stay cool. "Tell Jaxon I am here on Ironfang business," she said, letting authority ring through her words. "I will see Kaleb first."

"Alpha Jaxon commands this area now," the lead guard snapped, his hand resting on his weapon. "Kaleb holds no land. He is nothing in these mountains. Ironfang is dead, and there is no king without a pack to rule."

Fear stabbed through her chest.

Kaleb had lost Ironfang. Not temporarily. Not politically. Completely. The man she had come here to bargain with might no longer have a single warrior willing to obey him.

But she could not afford to let these men see her confidence shatter.

Her eyes darted toward the iron gates behind them. There, forged deep into the heavy metal, was the ancient Ironfang crest, a skull flanked by blades. A small smile touched the corner of her lips before she turned back to face the guards.

"You say Ironfang is dead," Rhea said, pointing a finger toward the metalwork, "yet its mark remains carved into your gates."

The guards turned to look at the iron, their sneers faltering. Low murmurs broke out among them as they stared at the crest.

Rhea took a step forward, letting her shadow fall over the dirt between them. "Until you rip that metal down, this land still remembers its masters. Whoever controls Ironfang controls the heart of this valley."

The men clenched their fists, their faces darkening as their wolves stirred beneath their skin. The air grew thick with hostility, fangs threatening to show.

But before any of them could lunge forward, a runner sprinted down the path. The young wolf skidded to a stop beside the lead guard, gasping a message into the man’s ear before darting back into the trees.

Rhea’s pulse spiked in her ears. Inside her head, River dropped into a strike pose, her ears pinned back against her head.

"Whatever they choose, I am ready to rip their throats out," River snarled.

The lead guard’s face settled into a tight mask. He gestured toward the open archway leading into the heart of the territory.

"If you refuse to come with us, Alpha Jaxon permits you to pass," the guard growled, though his eyes burned with anger. "But mark this, you will not find another man in these lands half as patient as he is."

Rhea held her chin high, refusing to show the relief sweeping through her veins. "I will take my chances," she said.

The guards parted, creating a narrow gap between them.

Rhea walked straight through their midst, her skin prickling as their hostile scents washed over her. Her boots struck the dirt path in a steady rhythm, every muscle in her body coiled tight while River watched their shadows from within.

As she moved deeper into the village, the silence of the territory pressed against her like a weight.

Pack members lined the dirt track, watching her with wide eyes. Some looked at her as if she were a corpse walking straight into a pit. Mothers pulled their young ones close against their skirts, whispering behind raised hands.

"Is she actually walking up to the main hall?" a female voice hissed from the crowd.

"She must not know who holds the throne now," another whispered back.

Rhea kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, refusing to let their comments slow her down. Her legs felt heavy, but she forced herself forward step by step, her wolf’s ears straining for the slightest sound of a trap.

When she finally reached the foot of the packhouse stairs, her feet froze.

The courtyard was completely wrong.

There were no children playing near the wooden steps. No young warriors were training in the ring. No cooking fires burned in the outer pits to welcome the evening.

Rhea stared at the empty archway. That was where the Ironfang banner had hung for generations.

She remembered standing beneath it during pack ceremonies. Remembered the warriors kneeling when she had walked past. Remembered believing, once, that nothing could ever take this territory from them.

Now even the banner was gone.

The bright colors of her former home had been stripped away, replaced by black banners and silent guards standing like statues.

Someone had erased her home. They hung a cloth bearing a mark: three arrows crossing a broken skull.

Rhea’s breath hitched, the warmth draining from her cheeks as realization dawned on her. It was the exact mark stamped into the arrows that had rained down upon the sanctuary only days ago.

"Blackfang," she whispered, the word tasting like ash on her tongue.

Before she could fully process the nightmare she had walked into, the heavy oak doors of the hall creaked open. A broad warrior stepped out onto the stone porch, clad in a dark leather vest.

Rhea swallowed hard against the lump of dread rising in her throat as she recognized the silver trim on his collar, the mark of a Beta.

The man stopped at the top of the stone steps, his dark eyes locking onto hers without a trace of feeling.

"Our Alpha has been waiting for you, Rhea," the Beta announced. His voice echoed across the quiet yard.

Rhea forced a long breath into her lungs, trying to steady the frantic pounding of her heart against her ribs. She closed her eyes for a split second, taking a moment to find her ground before looking back up at the man.

If Blackfang held the high seat, she had to face this new Alpha to find out what had happened to Kaleb. She needed to know if her journey here was a complete mistake.

And if a new Alpha sat on the throne, where was Kaleb?

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