Rein's POV
The man was on top of me, pressing his hard member against me as though that could make me surrender. His lips hovered dangerously above mine, as if he was about to claim me with a kiss. His hand roamed all over my body.
My eyes burned with pure hatred, even as I laid limp beneath him,the poison already taken effect on me.
"No" I whispered.
But then—
The door slammed open with a dangerous bang.
A tall figure stood there, fury blazing in his eyes.
…
Rohan's POV
I did not understand it. The moment I saw that bastard holding her hand in the hallway, something inside me twisted. It was a strange feeling. I was not particularly close to Syria, apart from my usual teasing.
So obviously it's wasn't love.
But what I felt wasn't rage, not entirely. It was not jealousy either. It was something raw and dangerous. I had brushed it off, blaming it on my Alpha instincts. But the image refused to leave my mind.
Her hands in that man's hand. The look in his eyes—it was not one to dismiss, it showed the possessiveness and love he had for syria.
Why the hell does it bother me?
It was not like Syria belonged to me or anything. She was just an ordinary breeder.
Yet, as the night dragged on and the wind howled against the mansion walls, I could not stop pacing. I tried to distract myself with everything I could think of, but nothing worked.
I kept convincing myself that I had no business thinking about someone as unnecessary as a breeder. She was just a toy to me—someone to tease and mock.
I stood by the window in my chamber, staring into the dark night. My fist clenched in growing frustration. My mind screamed for clarity, for sense—but all I felt was an overwhelming urge to go to her room.
I needed to confront her about her relationship with that man.
So I did exactly that.
I marched down the hallway. Halfway there, I ran into Lady Verya.
"I wonder what she is doing here?" I mused, irritated by her sudden appearance.
"Rohan," she called my name a little too sweetly, stepping in front of me. "Where are you going this late?"
I ignored her and tried to walk past.
She placed a hand on my chest. "Let me come with you. It has been so long since we saw each other."
"I do not have time. I have something important to do," I replied flatly.
But she was persistent. She clung to my arm so tightly there was no space between us. I almost gagged when I inhaled her overpowering perfume.
I pushed her off, but reluctantly allowed her to follow. I had no energy to argue. Maybe once we reached Syria's room, I could lock her out. The thought made me smirk.
We walked in silence, which surprised me—she usually rambled on about nothing. Eventually, we reached Syria's room.
Something was wrong. I could feel it. My instincts screamed at me.
I reached for the door handle.
Verya scoffed. "Rohan, what are you—"
I opened the door.
And everything stopped.
I was stupefied. Shocked. I could not even begin to describe the emotions that hit me all at once.
There she was.
Syria.
On the bed, underneath a man—someone who was clearly not one of my brothers.
He was the same man we saw in the hallway, holding her hand tightly. Now, he was hovering over her. His hand clutched the remnants of her torn dress. Syria's eyes were wide and filled with terror.
For one horrifying second, I froze.
Then rage consumed me.
I charged forward.
The man looked up just as I grabbed his collar and dragged him off the bed. Syria let out a weak sob—the sound shattered me. I had never seen her cry, not even when she was first brought to this unknown house.
And now, that strong girl was curled up on the bed, sobbing furiously.
"You filthy bastard," I roared.
I slammed him into the wall. Then again. And again. My fists pounded his face, his ribs, his stomach.
"Rohan!" Verya screamed, her expression horrified. "Rohan, stop!"
But I could not stop. Not when I had seen Rein curled into herself like a wounded animal. Not when I imagined what would have happened if I had not arrived in time.
The man spat blood. "She's mine," he wheezed.
My fist crashed into his jaw again.
"She was never yours."
I barely registered Lady Verya's sharp gasp as she stepped beside me, her eyes darting between me and Rein.
"She looks guilty," Verya said quietly. "Are you sure this was not mutual?"
I turned on her, fury blazing in my eyes.
"You dare?" I snapped, stunned at how twisted her thoughts could be.
She lifted her chin. "I am just saying… maybe you interrupted something private."
"Get out," I growled. I knew that if she stayed any longer, I might turn my anger on her—and that was something I could not allow to happen.
Her lips curled into a smirk. "Of course. But I hope you know what you are doing, Rohan. People will talk."
I turned back to Syria. Her dress was torn. Her arms were bruised. Her lips trembled. She said nothing—just looked at me, as though asking if she was safe.
I nodded slowly.
"You are safe now," I whispered.
And I meant it.
As I turned back to the man, ready to interrogate him—
What I saw shocked me.
The man I had beaten to near death was no longer there.
He had vanished.
I rushed to the window and threw it open. But there was no sign of anyone escaping through it.
I turned to Syria. Judging by her expression, she had seen it too.
She nodded.
Where had the man disappeared to?
*******
Leon's POV:
In a dark room
The stench of blood clung to me as I coughed, lying on a stone slab in a chamber carved from black rock. Flickering blue torches lined the walls, and the air was thick with magic—and something far more ancient.
Fist.
Pain.
That was all I felt.
The Alpha's fury was merciless, his strikes sharp, brutal, and unrelenting. My body was barely holding together—ribs cracked, jaw numb, skin splitting open under every blow.
But none of it compared to the humiliation.
I had her.
I almost had her.
And that alpha took that from me.
I pushed myself up, groaning at the pain still screaming through my body.
He is here.
A tall figure stepped into the room, cloaked in shadows, face half-hidden beneath a silver mask. Power radiated off him like heat.
He was silent for a moment, eyes boring into me.
Then—
"What. Did. You. Do."
His voice was calm. Too calm for my liking.
"I…" I stammered. "I went to—"
"I told you to observe," he snapped, cutting me off as he stepped closer. "To find out which Alpha is weakening. To look for the hidden scroll. You were not to make yourself known."
His glare deepened. "And now they are aware. Now they have seen you."
"I did not plan for the Alpha to see me," I gritted my teeth, blood dribbling down my chin. "I would have handled it if—"
"You would have died there," he said coldly. "And exposed everything."
He waved a hand.
A creature not much taller than my knees stepped out from behind a pillar. It had glowing red eyes and charred skin like cracked obsidian. A dwarf mage. Its hands sparked with residual teleportation magic.
"If you were not still useful, He hissed, "I would not have wasted a single spell to drag your bleeding corpse out of there."
Silence fell.
Then I whispered;
"She is alive."
He froze.
"…Who?"
I met his eyes. "Syria."
The power in the room recoiled.
His voice dropped low, almost a growl. "…That is not possible."
"She was supposed to be dead," he murmured.
I watched the fear bleed into his expression.
And I smiled bloodied, bruised, broken.