Chapter 9 Deadly Retribution

Logan’s POV

The silence in that stone chamber was absolute. Not even breathing. My eyes moved from the bleeding girl on the floor to the two men standing over her. One was large with a scarred face—I'd seen him in the room earlier. The other I didn't recognize, but his scent told me everything I needed to know. He reeked of Elton's territory.

"Alpha Logan," the scarred one stammered, his voice cracking. "I can explain—"

I didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there in the doorway, my hand resting on my sword hilt.

Knox was screaming in my head. KILL THEM. TEAR THEM APART. THEY HURT OUR MATE.

SHUT UP, I told him coldly.

I looked at her. Her left eye was swollen shut. Blood ran from her nose and mouth. Her ribs showed stark against her pale skin, and I could see fresh bruises already forming. She was trembling, her arms wrapped around herself in a futile attempt at modesty.

I fought to control my anger. "I told you to stay in the room." The Alpha pressure radiating from me intensified until I could see both men struggling to breathe.

Her head dropped. Tears still wet on her cheeks. "I... I was going to, but... they brought me here..."

"Brought you?" My gaze snapped to Elijah.

"She's lying!" Elijah's voice cracked with desperation. He raised his hands higher, as if surrender might save him. "We found her trying to escape through—"

My sword was out before he finished. The blade sang as it left the scabbard, and before Elijah could draw another breath, it was buried in his throat.

His eyes went wide. Blood bubbled from his lips. He made a wet, gurgling sound and collapsed sideways, his hands scrabbling uselessly at the wound.

I yanked the blade free and turned to Elton's man.

He was already moving. Smart enough to know talking wouldn't save him. His body erupted in the shift, reforming into a brown wolf that launched itself at my throat.

I sidestepped. My sword came up in a smooth arc, catching him mid-leap. The blade pierced through his chest, through his heart, pinning him against the stone wall.

Then I pulled the sword free, and he fell. The shift reversed as he died, leaving a naked man bleeding out on the floor.

Silence again. Absolute and suffocating.

I crouched beside Elton's man and searched his clothing. There—a torn piece of fabric caught on his belt buckle. I pulled it free and held it up to the torchlight.

The insignia was unmistakable. Emerald Grove Pack's inner guard. "Fucking Elton," I muttered.

Knox snarled his agreement. He sent them to hurt our mate. To test us.

I know. I stood, tucking the fabric into my shirt. And now I have proof.

I turned back to Valencia. Rage simmered beneath my skin. Every bruise on her body—it all fed the fury building in my chest. She hadn't moved from where she'd pressed herself against the wall, the torn dress clutched to her chest. Her purple eyes were huge in her battered face, tracking my every movement.

She flinched when I started toward her.

The sight made my jaw clench so hard my teeth ached.

"Alpha, I can walk, I don't need—" she started, her voice hoarse.

"Be quiet."

The command came out harsher than I intended, but I didn't soften it. I bent and slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, lifting her against my chest.

She made a small sound—half gasp, half whimper. Her body went rigid, every muscle locked with pain and fear.

Gently, Knox warned. She's hurt.

I know, I shot back. But I adjusted my grip, careful to avoid the worst of her injuries.

Valencia didn't try to fight. She just curled into herself, making her body as small as possible against my chest. Her breathing was shallow and rapid.

I carried her through the dungeon corridors, up the stairs. The hallways were empty at this hour. The few servants I passed took one look at my expression and fled.

Valencia stayed silent the entire time. Her face pressed against my shoulder, her breathing gradually slowing.

Mark her, Knox demanded again. If she bears our mark, no one will dare touch her.

No.

Why not? His confusion bled into frustration. She's ours. She needs our protection. The mark would—

I said no. I cut him off sharply. I don't understand this bond. I don't understand why the Moon Goddess would pair me with a wolfless girl. Until I do, I'm not binding her to me permanently.

Knox growled but fell silent. He knew when I'd made a final decision.

But the urge was there. I pushed the thought aside.

When I reached her room, I kicked the door open and carried her inside. The fire had burned down to embers, but enough light remained for me to see by.

I laid her on the bed as carefully as I could. In the firelight, her injuries looked even worse. Purple bruises bloomed across her ribs. Her face was a mess of blood and swelling. Her knuckles were scraped raw where she must have tried to fight back.

The anger flared hotter. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I moved to the washbasin, grabbing clean cloths. There was a medical kit in the room. I found bandages, salves, and a small bottle of something that smelled like herbs.

When I returned to the bed, her good eye had opened again. She watched me approach with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

"I'm going to clean your wounds," I told her. "This will hurt."

She didn't respond. Just kept staring at me with that haunted look.

I dipped the cloth in clean water and began gently wiping the blood from her face. She flinched at the first touch but didn't pull away.

I forced myself to focus on the task. Clean the wounds. Apply the salve. Bandage what needed bandaging. Don't think about the mate bond that shouldn't exist. Just take care of her injuries and figure out the rest later.

Valencia’s POV

The warm cloth against my battered face should have hurt more than it did. Alpha Logan's hands moved with surprising gentleness as he cleaned the blood from my split lip. Each time I flinched, he paused, giving me a moment to adjust before continuing.

I studied his face in the firelight. His jaw was clenched tight. Those gray eyes that had been so cold when he killed Elijah now held something else—something that looked almost like... concern?

But the anger was there too. I could feel it radiating from him in waves, making the air around us feel charged and dangerous.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

The question startled me. I'd expected commands, not questions. Certainly not ones that sounded like he actually cared about the answer.

"I've had worse," I said, then immediately regretted it when his eyes snapped to mine. The anger flared brighter.

"That's not what I asked."

I swallowed hard. "Yes. It hurts."

He nodded once, then reached for a small jar on the bedside table. When he opened it, the sharp scent of healing salve filled the air—something with arnica and comfrey, if my mother's teachings were correct.

"This will sting," he warned before applying it to the worst of my facial wounds.

He was right. It burned like fire, and I couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped my lips. But his hand immediately moved to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking gently across my uninjured skin in a gesture so tender.

The contrast was dizzying. This was the same man who had just decapitated someone with a single swing of his sword. The same Alpha who had stood in that doorway like death incarnate, his face blank and terrifying. Now he touched me like I might shatter.

My mind flashed back to Elijah's head separating from his body. Alpha Logan had killed them both without a change in his expression.

I didn't understand him. Didn't understand any of this.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly, breaking through my confused thoughts.

The question caught me completely off guard. Why would he care about my name? Alpha Marcus and Luna Kestrel had never bothered to learn it. For years, I had simply been "you" or "slave" or "girl." No one had spoken my actual name in so long that hearing the question felt surreal.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized he was waiting for an answer. "Valencia," I said quietly. The name felt strange on my tongue after so many years of silence.

"Valencia," he repeated, and something about the way he said it—made warmth spread through my chest. "Where are you from?"

My first instinct was to tell him the truth—that I was from Moonfall Ridge Pack in Aldermer. But Aldermer and Valdoria were still at war. If Alpha Logan knew I was from the enemy kingdom, he might kill me immediately. Or worse, torture me for information.

"I'm a rogue, sir," I lied, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "My parents were rogues too. They died during a raid against rogue settlements."

Alpha Logan's eyes locked onto mine, sharp and penetrating. I felt like he could see straight through my lies. Fear crawled up my spine, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Where did you wander?" he asked.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I searched my memory desperately for a place name that wouldn't give me away. Luna Kestrel had mentioned various territories during her rants about political alliances...

"Thornwick Vale," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Alpha Logan's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's Elton's territory."

Shit. Of course it was. I nodded, praying he wouldn't ask for more details about a place I'd never actually been to.

"How did you become Marcus's slave?" Alpha Logan stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head back further to look at him.

Panic fluttered in my chest. I needed to think fast. I remembered my father telling me about the kingdom's layout before everything fell apart—Alpha King Winston ruled from the center, with his three sons and brother(Marcus) controlling the outer territories. Alpha Marcus had held the west, Alpha Elton the east, Alpha Logan the north, and Alpha Soren the south.

"Alpha," I began carefully, "I was wandering along the river, heading west. I collapsed near the marshlands from hunger and exhaustion. When I woke up, Alpha Marcus had captured me. I became Luna Kestrel's slave to survive."

Alpha Logan leaned forward. Now he was only inches away from me. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body—something wild and masculine that made my pulse quicken in a way I didn't understand.

He was too close. Too powerful. The scent of him—leather, steel, and something distinctly Alpha—filled my nostrils and made my head spin.

"How long ago was that?" His voice had dropped lower.

"Fifteen years," I whispered.

Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe, or calculation. "You were a child."

"I was three when my parents died." The lie came easier now, built on the foundation of the first one. "I survived on my own for a while before Marcus found me."

He studied me for a long moment. He simply turned back to the basin and rinsed the bloody cloth.

"Rest now," he said. "We'll talk more in the morning."

He moved to the chair by the window, settling into it with his sword across his lap. The message was clear—he would stay here, watching over me through the night.

I should have felt afraid. Should have worried about what he might do while I slept. But exhaustion pulled at me like a tide, and somehow, with him sitting guard, I felt safer than I had in years.

My eyes drifted closed, and I fell into an uneasy sleep.