Into the Alpha’s Keep Chapter 57: 57

I continued walking, pulling my body closer and closer to the lands that would protect me.

"Hunter is eager, and so are we," the second wolf remarked.

"Eager for what?" I retorted.

"He promised to let the bravest males touch you."

I turned my head toward him.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, yes. No one wants to come after you; everyone fears true death. So, he promised that the bravest males would get to take you before the wedding with him."

Disgust pulsed through me.

"And why would they want that?"

If they were afraid, Fenrir’s reputation was spreading, and they should know the odds weren’t in their favor. But why risk it just to sleep with me? I didn’t consider myself ugly, but I’d seen far more attractive females than me.

He shrugged.

"It's not every day you get the chance to sleep with an alpha's daughter. It's an honor and a privilege."

God, they were sick!

My father and Caspian had done an excellent job infiltrating the minds of every male in the packs like weeds, molding them into being as despicable as the two of them.

"Your lives are worth less than a fuck?" I laughed. "I'm shocked at how relevant you think you are. If Hunter wants to marry me, do you really think he’ll let any other male touch me?"

"Oh, he will," the first wolf affirmed.

"And how can you be so sure?"

A fleeting smile appeared on his lips.

"Because he knows you’re a bitch who slept with the Dăneşti male. You're no longer untouchable or pure. He doesn’t care about that. If necessary, he’ll give you to every damn male in the pack just to get his hands on you."

All the calm I had felt vanished like smoke in the wind. The stench of death was overwhelming. I didn’t think; I didn’t hesitate. I cast one last glance at the transformed wolf, turned, and started running with every ounce of speed I had.

Nothing would make me willingly accept the fate Hunter had planned for me.

I stepped on a sharp branch, wounding the sole of my foot. I kept running, even limping, hearing them right behind me. I dodged a tree. The heads came into view, becoming more vivid with each step.

I was so close I could hear the sound of the lake and the nightly chatter of the villagers enjoying the bars downtown.

So close that the sweet taste of freedom reached me.

I crashed to the ground as large paws and long claws struck my back, tearing through my skin. My face hit the branches and leaves, sending an agonizing pain through my jaw and the taste of copper to my tongue.

Pain spread through me like lightning, leaving me dizzy.

And then, razor-sharp teeth sank beside my neck, piercing the untouched skin that had once borne Fenrir's mark.

The scream I released into the wind was so loud, raw, and filled with my purest, most absolute despair that it made the males flinch, almost succumbing to their primal instincts to protect a vulnerable female.

My wolf writhed and thrashed within me, trying to shake the male’s teeth off our neck. It was wrong, completely wrong. He should not have marked me; that right belonged to Fenrir.

"Let her go, damn it!" one of them barked, pulling the male away. "That bastard will catch up to us if we don’t leave now."

The beige wolf was chewing on my heel, shredding skin and muscle, deliberately hurting me. I was too dazed to notice who had marked me.

The first male who found me crouched beside me, licking his lips and tasting the blood that stained his dark-brown skin. He had been the bastard who dared to bite a mated wolf.

"You taste pretty good," he said with a smile.

I felt no pain, entirely resigned to the fact that death was near. The only guilt weighing on my chest was not having had the chance to reunite with my sister and leaving the Dăneşti without an alpha.

I blinked slowly.

As I reopened my eyes, the head of the male who had marked me flew off, separating from his neck. Bones cracked, and blood sprayed far and wide, splattering me and the surroundings. His body fell, and I saw Fenrir standing behind him, his golden eyes ablaze and his face twisted with rage.

And for the first time in a long while, I felt... relieved. I trusted him, but above all, I felt safe by his side in a way I never had before.

I also felt something else—more intense, warm, and deep.

Something still unnamed.

***

POV Fenrir Dăneşti

Her pain was harsh, as sour as a lemon. Fear had an acrid scent, leaving me dizzy.

I felt every wound—claws tearing the skin off her back, the bite on her calf shredding skin and muscle, down to the bone. But above all, the mark on her neck left by the wretched male who claimed what was mine.

I was in the middle of a meeting with Anton and Andrei when I felt all of it, and it was the last thing I saw before losing control to my beast and running in her direction. Because no matter where she was, I would always know her exact location.

My wolves wouldn’t approach us—not in the state I was in. They knew they were at serious risk of being killed, even unintentionally. If my beast sensed even the slightest threat against Savannah, it would kill anyone. Friend or not.

Our protective instincts screamed louder, making me act like a true beast. Savannah was hurt. My mated companion was injured. And it stirred every cell in my body.

The scent of her blood permeated the air, swirling in the wind like a call to me.

I ripped a male's head off with my hand, separating it from his body in a single motion. My nails had grown, my fangs elongated, veins prominent, and my body hair thickened by the partial transformation.

A growl rumbled through me, so loud and sharp it shook the branches around us, as if nature itself responded to my threat.

I looked at Savannah, lying on the ground. She blinked and breathed slowly, life slipping from her body little by little. I felt her weakness because it was becoming my own.

"Did you mark her?" I asked, my voice rough and deep.

The stench of the male I’d just killed clung to her. My body faltered, swaying backward. Rage blinded me, and I couldn’t regain control. I had only one desire: death.

I turned my neck toward the male staring at me with wide eyes, his face pale.

"He marked her," he said, pointing to his dead accomplice.

In the blink of an eye, I was right in front of him. I shoved my fingers into his mouth and leaned closer, staring him down.

"I won’t kill you slowly because my mate needs me," I whispered, watching him with my head tilted.

I grabbed the lower part of his mouth with one hand and the upper part with the other, pulling them apart. The skin at the corners of his lips split, creating fissures in his cheeks. He screamed as his jaw dislocated, and he screamed even louder as the bone cracked with a low snap. His eyes rolled back, desperate, struggling against my grip.

I increased the pressure, splitting his head in two. It hung by the scalp as I let go. He fell dead to the ground, blood cascading from his neck like a crimson waterfall.

A lunatic smile spread across my face.

I turned to the transformed wolf. He growled at me, but fear gleamed in his greenish eyes.

"An honor to be the last to die, don’t you think?" I taunted.

He lunged, jumping at me. I dodged, shoving my hand under his furry body. I tore through the skin with ease, thanks to my sharp nails. Breaking a few ribs, I closed my hand around his beating heart. The warm liquid clung to my palm, giving me a comforting sensation. I pulled my hand back, holding the organ in my fingers. The beige wolf fell beside me, lifeless.

It was far too easy to annihilate them, a completely unfair fight. The males from that cursed pack were weak and unworthy.

I opened my fingers, letting the heart fall.

I turned to Savannah, touching her gently. Her pain mirrored mine.

"Are you okay?" I whispered, as if I didn’t have the courage to ask.

I licked the wounds on her back, running my tongue along their length. The taste of her blood hit me, leaving me even more disoriented. Then I moved down to her shredded calf, giving it more attention.

I planted warm kisses and rough licks, letting my saliva do its healing work. I felt her pain subside as her body began to heal, numbing as the skin regenerated, little by little.

The desperation I felt was palpable. I couldn’t calm down, not even when she sighed in relief or when the torn skin transformed, creating a new layer and closing the open wound.

It had been a very, very long time since I had felt this vulnerable. Not since I found Catalina dead on the shores of that damned lake Savannah loved so much.

If I weren’t immune to love, I’d say I was falling for the wolf—that what I felt for her went far beyond protection. But loving someone else would mean questioning the intensity and significance of my feelings for Catalina, and that was not up for debate. Never would be.