chapter 81: a prey

The stone walls of the lower chambers swallowed sound like a beast that had never known hunger. Cold. Silent. Inescapable.

Elias walked willingly, feet slow, deliberate. The soldier leading him never looked back. That was his first mistake.

Because Elias wasn't afraid.

He was calculating.

Each step, each turn, each flickering torch was a mark in his mind, mapping his surroundings with precise detail. He had spent his life surviving in places like this, among people who had never looked at him twice until it was too late.

And this soldier?

He had no idea who he had just led into the darkness.

The hall narrowed ahead. The air thickened with damp earth, the weight of something unseen pressing against the walls.

One more turn.

That was all Elias needed.

Then, without hesitation—

He moved.

A twist of the wrist. A shift of the weight.

Before the soldier even realized what was happening, Elias was behind him, one arm wrapped around his throat, cutting off air.

A strangled gasp. A desperate flail.

The soldier was strong, but strength meant nothing when panic set in. Elias had spent years learning how to dismantle people before they even knew they were being broken.

A few seconds more, and the soldier went limp. Not dead. Just unconscious.

Elias lowered him to the ground carefully, his own breathing slow and controlled.

One problem solved.

But there would be more.

Because whoever had planned this wouldn't send just one man.

He had minutes. Maybe less.

He crouched, running quick fingers over the unconscious soldier's belt. A knife. A key. A sealed letter.

The knife was obvious—he slid it into his sleeve without hesitation. The key? He tucked it into his waistband.

But the letter…

His fingers hovered over the wax seal.

It wasn't the Alpha's insignia. Not even close.

It was something older. Something Elias recognized.

Something that did not belong in this fortress.

His pulse spiked, just for a moment. Why would they have this?

No time to think about that now.

He stood, ears straining, heart steady.

Then—

There.

Footsteps. More than one set. Coming fast.

They had realized.

Elias exhaled slowly. Let them come.

Because this time, they weren't leading him anywhere.

---

The Alpha's Pursuit

The storm in the Alpha's chest had a name, but he refused to give it one.

He moved through the fortress like a shadow, his personal guard barely keeping pace. Every muscle in his body was taut, his jaw locked, his hands itching for something—someone—to break.

Elias had been taken.

Not lost. Not missing. Taken.

And that meant someone had dared to act against his orders.

A mistake.

His childhood friend walked beside him, gaze sharp. "You're moving fast," he remarked. "A little too fast for someone you barely know."

The Alpha didn't answer.

Because he didn't barely know Elias.

Not anymore.

He had seen the flickers of truth hidden beneath that fragile act. The cracks in the mask that Elias so carefully maintained. And now—

Now he had to face the fact that he had already made his choice.

He wouldn't let Elias die.

Not until he knew why he was different.

Not until he understood what he was hiding.

The lower chambers loomed ahead. His men were already moving, torches flickering against the damp walls. The weight of history pressed in around them—the weight of old, buried things that had never been meant to be uncovered.

"Move faster," he ordered.

And they did.

Because if Elias had been taken down here—

It meant someone had already decided he wouldn't be coming back.

---

A Mistake in the Dark

The first attacker came fast.

Elias dodged before the blade even got close, twisting sideways, letting the momentum carry him into his next move.

A quick flick of the stolen knife—sharp metal slicing flesh—

A grunt. A stumble. A body hitting the wall.

Not dead. But wounded enough to stay down.

The second man hesitated. That was his mistake.

Elias was already moving.

A strike to the throat—quick, controlled, not fatal, but enough to send the man to his knees, gasping for breath.

It wasn't a fight.

It was an execution.

And Elias?

Elias had never been the prey.

He was panting now, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm, adrenaline sharp in his veins. Three bodies lay at his feet—none of them dead, but none of them standing.

Who sent them?

He could guess. But he needed to be sure.

He knelt beside the second attacker, fingers pressing into a fresh wound—not deep enough to kill, just enough to hurt.

"Who sent you?" he murmured.

The man groaned, trying to turn away.

Elias didn't let him.

"The letter," he said, voice softer now, deadlier. "Who gave it to you?"

A sharp breath. A flicker of resistance. Then—

A single name.

One Elias knew too well.

His blood ran cold.

Before he could react, before he could even begin to process the implications—

Boots thundered down the hall.

Too many. Too close.

Elias barely had time to push himself back against the wall before they arrived.

And when they did—

The Alpha was at the front.

His gaze swept the scene. The bodies. The knife in Elias's hand. The way Elias wasn't broken.

Silence.

Then the Alpha took another step forward, stopping just before Elias, close enough that the heat of his body cut through the damp chill of the chamber.

His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"You fought them off."

Not a question.

A statement.

Elias's fingers curled around the hilt of the knife, pulse steady.

The Alpha tilted his head slightly, as if seeing him truly for the first time.

Then—

He smirked.

It was not a kind expression.

"It seems," the Alpha murmured, "that I've underestimated you."

A pause. A slow inhale.

"And now," he added, voice softer, more dangerous—

"I can't decide whether I should thank you… or kill you."

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