Sold to the Alpha With Silver Eyes - Chapter 42: Chapter 42

I slink through the trees along the small path leading to the dungeon entry. This used to be somewhere I dreaded coming, loathing the smell and the pain it carries, but right now, I am selfish. The only pain I can think of is my own and what I am causing Eden. Right now I need the comfort of my fist crunching into Paxtons’ side.
The door opens without a sound, my senses awake to every tiny sound as water drips somewhere within, echoing up toward me. There is no way to mask my footsteps, not when I feel as deranged as I am right now. Each step I can feel my spine fluttering, my vertebrae nearly shaking in excitement for the shift my lycan knows is coming.
When I pass the first section, the section reserved for prisoners with smaller crimes, I can feel eyes on me from the depths of their dark cages. Not a single one says a word, only chains clinking as they seem to move further back to the walls. The hallways wind deeper into the earth; the temperature growing cooler and the air more stale, filled with sweat and the lingering scent of blood.
Manic laughter floats my way, soft and crazed before growing louder and I can’t fight back the smile on my lips. Paxton must have picked up my scent through all the shit smells in this hellhole. I creep closer, my fingers burning with the need to tear at the fucker who set Eden’s life on fire, the only person I can blame other than myself.
“You are trying to exile me?” Paxton’s voice is hoarse and filled with cocky disbelief.
“King Cedric is exiling you,” a voice says, forcing me to stop in my tracks. “I am merely following orders. Once I unchain you, no one will stop you as you leave.”
“And what if I decide to kill you, for the fun of it?” Paxton’s voice is low, the threat much less a threat but a warning to the poor warrior delivering the news.
“All I need to do is mindlink one word, and every exit is surrounded.” The warrior sounds brave, his voice familiar, but somehow…different.
“Oh, but your poor daddy will already be without his son, won’t he?” Paxton gloats like he has the upper hand and I realize the reason the voice is familiar yet is not, is it’s Nate. In a leadership position, one of authority which I have never seen from him.
“Everyone is expendable, Paxton.” He says like he is bored, “Even me,”
“Even your brother?”
I rear back, confused by the question, as Nate chuckles dryly.
“I don’t have a brother.”
“No? What about Dev?”
“He is my overconfident baby cousin who thinks I am as aloof as everyone else in this fucking place.” Nate says, blandly. Then I hear the clinking of chains. “You haven’t had the wolfsbane vapor in two days, so it should be cleared from your system by now.”
“Where the fuck am I supposed to go?” Paxton asks, finally sounding fearful for the first time. Becoming a rogue via your own choice is one thing, but to be exiled? Kicked out of the pack is different. Rogues don’t even accept the exiled, they can’t be trusted.
“I suggest looking for that group that went head hunting for Dev and ended up killing Hastings. You seem like you might have some things in common. Now get your ass out of here before Dev finds out and hunts you down.”
Shit.
I turn and break away from where they are, refusing to listen to anymore of this shit. Instead, I force myself to make it to the surface first and then I roll in the first puddle of mud and leaves I see, hiding my scent. Then, I wait like a fucking dog watching for his master’s cue to eat the steak dangling in front of his nose.
It takes Paxton a few minutes to show his face; the door pushing open as he peeks his head out, crouching down like the convict escaping that he is. His eyes scan everywhere, looking for the first sign that Nate might have been lying. He looks past me, twice, before smiling and standing up straight, then he picks his direction and makes his way toward the pack lines.
I hang back for a solid thirty minutes, my mouth producing a drool that drips down my chin. My lycan is thirsting for this violence. This hunt is the best fucking present I could receive from anyone. The words spoken in the dungeon are on the back burner for now. For now, I need the taste of blood and the sound of bones crunching tickling my ears.
“Game on,” I mutter, finally giving in and letting my beast take over.
Each crack feels like a release of tension from points deep within my body, my clothes ripping from me as fur breaks through and my head rolls back. I release a haunting howl, one I should have controlled and kept quiet, but I have held back for too long.
I break away from the dungeon doors with a speed that sends a thrill through me. There is screaming coming from the dungeon, an uproar over the prisoner who escaped from those seeking freedom of their own. But I don’t give a shit about them and their crimes. All I care about is the fucker whose throat I am going to sink my claws into and rip out.
Paxton is strong, he always has been of his immense size and how he lifts like he is a human training for some type of championship. But size has its downfalls, by building his muscles up so much he lacks the speed he once had and his agility has slowly become shit over the last few years.
It only takes me ten minutes to catch up to him, watching from a distance as his lycan looks over his shoulders, a glimmer of fear on his face as the full moon shines down on him, nearing the border. He stutters in his step when he catches a glimpse of me, my lycan growling as we lick our teeth and move forward.
There is still a distance between us, making him closer to making it outside of pack grounds than I am to him. But what he doesn’t know is I don’t have a border tonight. I am crossing all the lines and frankly; I don’t give a flying fuck. This is personal, beyond pack remediation or the pulling of hierarchy needing to keep decorum or some shit.
This is a battle, one that will bring me closer to a place where I might find less guilt in myself.
Paxton lunges for the pack line and my chest heaves in a strange, vibrating laugh my lycan has never done before. In an ordinary fight, it might make me worried about my lack of control. But for now, control doesn’t have to be an issue when we are of the same mind and body. We both want this.
I run after him, leaping over his head as I land before him and turn, tilting my head and relishing the look of shock as I stand over the line, waiting for him to take that last step into my claws. He whips his big head around, looking for an out freedom of some kind, but then he seems to sober, his look changing.
Paxton seems to settle, his haunches bending as he prepares himself and decides his best action is to make the first move, so he does. I lean back as a claw whizzes over my head, curling my claws away as I drive my lycan fist into his side using the force my body swinging at the hips. It feels like heaven, the way his ribs stop my fist only to giveaway, cracking like a satisfyingly perfect cracker breaking into two. He whines, flying to the side as he stands again and ducks his head, slamming into my chest.
I let him get a hit in on my muzzle, the pain only feeding the sick desire to annihilate him even more. It’s as if I am a ravished beast, and the only form of food I need is anger and his pain. He swipes across my cheek as I turn away, razor-sharp claws tearing my skin apart before I bite his forearm.
Paxton tries to yank it away, but my teeth are too deep as he pulls, tearing his bone away from the muscles still lodged in my teeth. He roars in agonizing pain, falling from me as I hop back up and toss his muscles aside. My tail wags with excitement, his face distorted in anger as he growls at me and takes a step back.
He is going to retreat. For the first time in this asshole’s life, he thinks he is going to actually give up and get away. The second he turns his back to me, my body burns in fury and I tackle him, rolling him to the side as he throws his arms up to protect himself. His lycan retreats, his touch furred skin going back to its pale, fleshy manner, his one arm torn to the bone as he sobs.
“I was exiled for fuck’s sake! They let me go. I didn’t escape. Please, Dev…have mercy.” He pleads and I roll my head from side to side, cracks breaking from my tense neck.
My lycan wants to kill him. Fuck, I want to kill him. The two of us wrestle with who gets to do the honors. I win, my lycan retreating with the promise that if I begin to feel sorry for this sucker, he has permission to slip back in uncalled.
“Mercy?” I rasp, my throat raw from fighting the urge to just tear at his throat.
“Out of everyone, you must know what mercy is.” He stutters.
“You are the reason everything is so fucked.” I hiss at him, hammering my fist into his face. Blood spews from his mouth as he winces and then sneers at me.
“You royals never take accountability for your actions.” He spits his bloody spit in my face, and I wring his neck, lifting him before slamming him back into the hard ground.
“That is what I am doing right now. This is me being accountable, bleeding the back of fuckers like you.” I roar.
“I only ever followed orders.” He grinds out through his red stained teeth.
“What about the orders I gave you, huh? The ones to wait on executing Eden’s family while I investigate?” I remind him, and he breaks into a condescending laugh.
“What is cute is that you were under any illusion that you had control in that situation. I was ordered to make it seem like you were in charge. We all have been instructed that way. To everyone close to the king, we all know who the true heir is…and it isn’t you.” He grins, so fucking proud of himself.
I take my hand, driving my fingers into his side where his broken ribs lie and I relish every second he squirms and screams in pain, then I slowly extract one of those jagged bones. It’s still warm in my hand as I examine it over his face so he can see I am beyond reason. The panic in his face is more than enough to make me calm down, just for a moment.
“You think I give a fuck about what is being done behind the curtains? The truth comes out, Paxton. Always, either because someone is trying to be a smart ass before they get killed with their own rib bone, or others see where their loyalty should be placed.”
“Wha…” he swallows, his eyes glued to the bone in my hand.
“The truth is, I’m not killing you because you killed Eden’s family, because you set the fire and hoped she would die before I showed up and pulled her out. I am killing you, because I was forced to reject her as my one true mate in the hospital room where she found out she lost everything good in her life. By killing you, I am hoping to dull my own pain.”
“It won’t make you feel better…” He rushes out.
“Well, I think I would rather discover that for myself.” I say with a wicked smile. Even though my conscience is screaming at me, this is too far.
–PAXTON HAS ESCAPED AND INJURED PRINCE NATE! FIND A KILL HIM ONSIGHT–
And that is all I need to hear, as I insert his own rib bone into his throat, listening to him aspirate on his own blood as it foams out of his mouth.