Rejected By My Mate; Claimed By Lycan Quadruplets Chapter 32

Enzo's pov

The clang of metal echoed through the training room, each hit resonating like a war drum inside my skull. Sweat clung to my skin like a second layer as I struck again, the sword biting into the training dummy with a sickening thunk. It wasn't enough. Nothing was.

Every morning began like this—before the politics, before the orders, before the expectations that came with power—I bled out my rage, my discipline, and my instincts onto the floor. The training room smelled of iron, sweat, and focus. No distractions. No noise. Just the sound of flesh colliding with steel and breath grinding through grit.

I twisted, drove the blade forward in a clean arc, and sliced straight through the dummy's ribcage. It crumbled. I didn't stop. Another dummy. Another strike. I didn't train for leisure—I trained for blood. A quiet pack was a temporary blessing. Peace always ended. And when it did, I made sure we were the ones left standing.

The door creaked open behind me. I didn't have to turn to know who it was.

Ash.

His footsteps were precise, deliberate, not the kind you questioned. I sheathed the blade, breath steadying. He didn't speak right away, which was already a bad sign. Ash never hesitated unless the words were a noose.

"What is it?" I asked, wiping my hands with the cloth hanging at my waist.

"We caught them."

I turned. "Caught who?"

"Rogues. Three of them. Trading weapons and supplies near the southern border."

"Trading with whom?"

Ash's jaw tightened. His next words dropped like a hammer.

"Our soldiers."

Silence.

For a heartbeat, the world stood still. Then something cold and sharp bloomed behind my ribs.

"How many?" I asked, low.

"Four. Two from patrol, two from supply detail."

"And the rogues?"

"Alive. For now."

I didn't blink. "Bring the soldiers to the execution ground."

Ash nodded once. "Understood."

He didn't argue. He didn't question. He knew.

We didn't tolerate betrayal.

Not in my pack.

Not under my command.

Ash vanished through the door, and I stood there for a moment longer, the edge of my sword glinting like judgment beside me. Then I followed.

The sky was overcast, thick grey clouds rolling like storm-bellied wolves above the mountains. Wind blew low and steady through the trees, rustling the branches like whispers.

The execution ground was a wide, open space behind the barracks, ringed with stone and silence. The place wasn't ceremonial. It wasn't meant for theatrics. It was for reminders.

Ash was already there when I arrived, standing beside the soldiers on their knees, hands bound behind their backs. The rogues had been thrown into a cage on the far end—dirty, snarling, eyes full of rage and fear. Their stench was distinct: desperation.

But I wasn't here for them.

I walked past them without a glance, all my focus on the four men kneeling in the dirt. My men.

They didn't look up.

Not out of shame.

Out of fear.

"Who gave the order?" I asked, voice flat, unreadable.

No response.

"Who coordinated the trades?" I repeated, louder.

One of them—a young one, no older than twenty—opened his mouth, but Ash stepped forward with a growl, and silence reclaimed the space.

"I gave you purpose," I said, slowly. "I gave you safety, training, and a future. And you sold it for a sack of supplies and coin."

The youngest whimpered.

"You spit on the blood of every soldier who died keeping this pack standing. You spit on mine."

One of them dared to look up. "Alpha, please—"

I slammed my boot into his chest, knocking him flat into the dirt.

"Don't plead. You knew the law. You broke it."

Ash stood beside me, silent as a wall of stone. Behind him, guards lined the area, faces unreadable. This wasn't about emotion. This was about order.

I turned to the guards. "Get the ropes."

Two stepped forward, holding lengths of thick, enchanted iron cord.

"Alpha..." another soldier croaked from the ground. "Please, my family—"

"Will be taken care of," I cut him off. "But not by a traitor."

They were gagged after that. One tried to fight it, squirming like a worm under fire. A guard slammed him still.

Ash placed the sword in my hand.

I didn't hesitate.

The first one—older, battle-worn—should've known better; his eyes were still when the blade cut clean through his neck. No sound. No twitch.

The second thrashed. It took three guards to hold him down. His cries were muffled by the gag, but his eyes screamed everything. It didn't save him.

The third... the youngest. I paused only briefly. He trembled so hard the ropes bit into his flesh, and blood soaked through the cuffs. My hand didn't shake. He died with his eyes wide open.

The fourth closed his eyes before the blade fell.

When I was done, Ash handed me a cloth. I wiped the blood from the hilt and turned without a word.

"Burn the bodies. Dump the ashes at the border," I ordered, loud enough for every soul in the clearing to hear.

The guards bowed low. "Yes, Alpha."

Ash fell into step beside me as we walked.

"The rogues?" he asked quietly.

"Interrogate them. Find out who their supplier is. Then dispose of them."

Ash didn't flinch. "Understood."

We walked a few more paces before I broke the silence again.

"No more leniency. If a soldier so much as breathes near a rogue, I want their names. I want them questioned. Thoroughly."

Ash nodded. "I'll tighten the patrol shifts."

"And increase the guards near the storage house. I don't want another leak."

"Done."

We stopped as we reached the edge of the courtyard. The blood still clung to the air behind us like smoke.

"Do we tell the families?" Ash asked.

I thought for a moment. "Yes. Tell them the truth. And tell them the pack has provided compensation."

"Won't that stir resentment?"

"Maybe. But lies will fester worse."

Ash's gaze flicked toward the blood-soaked clearing. "You think more of them are involved?"

"Without a doubt," I replied coldly. "Rot never starts at the surface."

Later that evening, I stood in my study, staring out the window as dusk crept across the horizon. Shadows stretched long over the buildings, golden light spilling like spilled ink across the stone.

Ash returned just before the moon rose.

"They cracked," he said, dropping a sealed folder on my desk.

I opened it.

Names.

Four more.

I clenched my jaw. "Round them up before morning."

"I'll see to it personally."

I glanced up at him. "They didn't even hesitate, Ash. They sold their own coin."

"The world's changing," he murmured. "Borders are thinning. Packs are desperate. Loyalty doesn't mean what it used to."

"In my pack, it does."

He nodded once. "Then we make sure they remember."

I leaned back in my chair, fingers tapping the desk slowly.

"They will," I said. "By the time I'm done... they'll remember everything."