"Okay, calm down," Violet muttered to herself, taking deep, forceful breaths. "This isn’t permanent. You’ll go back to normal as soon as this is over. Easy as breathing."
She tried to sound hopeful, but inside, she was freaking out. Badly.
She turned to Griffin, her voice mixed with nerves and determination. "This is a good thing, right? At least everyone knows Oscar is your beta, so I won’t be refused entrance."
Griffin gave a short nod, his expression serious. "You’re right about that part. While I keep Zara occupied, you’ll sneak off to Alaric’s room and release him. We’ll figure out the rest from there." His intense gaze locked on hers. "You still rember the layout of the house from the map I showed you, right?"
"Yes, I do," Violet said obediently.
"As long as Zara hasn’t made any major changes, this should be straightforward. Once Alaric is free, we’ll regroup and hopefully settle things with his mother peacefully."
"Alright, captain. Let’s go get our boy back." Violet gave Griffin a playful salute, her nerves hidden behind bravado.
Griffin nodded once, and started toward the village where they’d find a ride straight to the packhouse. Violet followed close behind, her boots crunching softly in the snow. Neither of them said a word, both focused on the mission ahead, blissfully unaware of just how dangerous the mission they had taken truly was.
anwhile, back at the Packhouse :
"What is it this ti? Where are you taking ?" Alaric’s voice rose in panic as he shot up from the bed the mont the guards entered the containnt room.
Two of them ca inside while the other two stayed posted at the door, their expressions hard and watchful.
One guard stepped forward, saying in a calm, nearly coaxing tone. "Alpha Alaric, we just need you to co peacefully with us. It’s your mother’s orders. There’s no need for violence."
But damn it if Alaric was going to let them lay a single hand on him. His muscles tense as his mind raced. What the hell was his mother up to now?
From the wild, rugged look in his eyes, it was clear he was nearing his breaking point. It had been more than two days since they’d locked the suppressor cuffs on him, and he was starting to lose it.
This was the longest he had ever been separated from his wolf, and it was beginning to take its toll on him.
Suppressor cuffs were designed for criminal werewolves locked up in prison. Even then, the prisoners were given brief, scheduled releases to breathe and reconnect with their wolves.
But prolonged continuous use of the suppressor cuff was practically a death sentence. Weeks of this would lead to madness, and finally, death.
However, Alaric was no criminal. He had been raised like royalty, treated like a prince all his life. And now, here he was, chained, humiliated, and stripped of his freedom by the very people who should have protected him.
He knew why his mother wouldn’t release him. Unlike ordinary wolves, he had powers — and he wasn’t afraid to use it. Once these cuffs ca off, he would roast every single traitorous fool who had stood by and let Zara do this to him.
"Co on, let’s go, Alpha Alaric," the guard said.
Alaric let out a bitter laugh. "Oh, suddenly you rember I’m your Alpha?!" His voice dripped with sarcasm and rage. "You dare call Alpha while standing there, letting my mother treat like her personal prisoner?!"
"Alpha Alaric, this isn’t the ti for talks—" the guard began, trying to placate him.
"Don’t touch !" Alaric snarled, his voice a guttural hiss as he jerked back. The sound was so feral it made even the seasoned guard hesitate.
The man’s jaw tightened, and after a tense beat, he gestured to the second guard. The two of them began circling Alaric, moving slowly and cautiously, like hunters closing in on a cornered beast.
With a guttural snarl, Alaric slamd his shoulder into the nearest guard, ramming him hard against the wall. The second guard then lunged in from behind, his arms locking around Alaric’s torso.
But Alaric roared and dropped his weight, twisting violently. They both went down in a ssy tangle, the sound of their bodies hitting the floor brutal.
Alaric tried to roll on top, his fists swinging wildly. But before he could regain control, the two guards stationed at the doorway charged in. It was now four against one, and with their combined strength, they crushed down on him.
"Get off !" Alaric snarled with his teeth bared, electric blue eyes blazing with fury. He bucked and twisted, his muscles straining, but the suppressors were doing their job. His wolf’s power was still there, howling furiously, yet unreachable.
They pulled him up to his feet, dragging him across the corridor. Alaric fought them with every ounce of strength he had left, snarling and thrashing, but exhaustion quickly settled into his bones.
The corridor felt endless, and by the ti they reached his mother’s laboratory, his strength had completely waned. His head hung low, sweat dampening his hair, but his eyes still burned with defiance.
Zara barely spared him a glance when they arrived, too busy arranging the instrunts on the nearby table. Her voice was calm, if not detached, as she gave her order.
"Put him there and make sure he’s strapped tight. As you can see, my son’s a little rabid at the mont. We wouldn’t want him hurting himself during the procedure."
"You’re the one who’s fucking sick, you bitch!" Alaric roared, his voice cracking with fury.
He didn’t get to finish because the guards grabbed him, dragging him toward the table.
The sight of the thick leather restraints sent alarm bells screaming through his head. Alaric panicked. The thought of being bound and helpless while his mother did God-knows-what to him was unbearable.
"No! No, you can’t tie down!" Alaric thrashed violently, his voice raw with terror. "She’s going to hurt ! You have to listen to ! Please!"
But no one listened.
The guards’ faces were stone-cold, their loyalty unshaken as they followed the Luna’s orders.
Zara had made sure of that. By painting Alaric as "ntally unstable," she’d given them a reason to ignore his desperate cries.
Helplessly, Alaric scread until his throat burned, but it was no use. The straps locked into place, pinning his limbs to the cold table, leaving him completely at his mother’s rcy.
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