Chapter 9 Deadly Retribution

Logan’s POV

The silence in that stone chamber was absolute. Not even breathing. My eyes moved from the naked, bleeding girl on the floor to the two men standing over her. One was large with a scarred face—I'd seen him in the room earlier. The other I didn't recognize, but his scent told me everything I needed to know. He reeked of Elton's territory.

"Alpha Logan," the scarred one stammered, his voice cracking. "I can explain—"

I didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there in the doorway, my hand resting on my sword hilt.

Knox was screaming in my head. KILL THEM. TEAR THEM APART. THEY HURT OUR MATE.

Not yet, I told him coldly. First, I want to know what happened.

I looked at her. Her left eye was swollen shut. Blood ran from her nose and mouth. Her ribs showed stark against her pale skin, and I could see fresh bruises already forming. She was trembling, her arms wrapped around herself in a futile attempt at modesty.

"You," I said, my voice flat, looking at her. "What happened?"

She flinched at the sound of my voice. Her good eye found mine, wide with fear and pain.

"I... I was bathing," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Like you told me to. They broke in. Started asking questions about why you saved me. I told them I didn't know, but they didn't believe me. They said I must be your spy."

"She's lying!" the stranger burst out. "We found her trying to escape through—"

My sword was out before he finished speaking. The blade took his head clean off his shoulders. His body stood for one more heartbeat before collapsing, blood spraying across the stone floor.

The scarred man screamed. He released her hair and stumbled backward, his hands raised.

"Please!" he begged, dropping to his knees. "Please, Alpha Logan, I was just following orders! I didn't want to hurt her, I swear!"

I wiped my blade on the dead man's shirt, taking my time. Let him think about what was coming.

"Whose orders?" I asked quietly.

"I don't know! I don't know his name!" His words tumbled out in a rush. "He just said he worked for someone powerful. Said they wanted to know why you saved a worthless slave. Said they'd pay me well if I got answers."

I looked at the corpse on the floor. His clothing was fine quality. His boots were expensive. And that scent—definitely from Elton's territory.

"This man," I said, pointing at the body with my sword. "You didn't know his name?"

"No! I swear! He approached me in the kitchens earlier. Offered me silver. Said all I had to do was find out what the girl knew and report back."

Lies mixed with truth. He knew more than he was saying. But I didn't need his confession to know who had sent this man.

Elton. Making his move already. Testing my defenses. Trying to find out if Valencia was leverage he could use against me.

I looked at the girl again. She'd curled into herself on the floor, trying to make herself as small as possible. Blood pooled beneath her. Her breathing was shallow and pained.

Something inside me cracked.

"Please," the scarred man whimpered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll do anything. I'll—"

I moved. My sword went through his throat before he could finish begging. He made a wet, gurgling sound as blood poured from the wound. I twisted the blade and pulled it free. He collapsed beside the stranger, his eyes going glassy.

Knox growled with satisfaction. I sheathed my sword and crossed the room to the girl. She didn't move as I approached. Didn't even look at me. Just stared at the wall with her one good eye.

Rage simmered beneath my skin—cold and sharp. Every bruise on her body—it all fed the fury building in my chest.

Mark her, Knox snarled in my mind. Mark her now. If she bears our mark, no one will dare touch her again. They'll know she's ours.

No.

What do you mean, no? Knox's confusion bled into anger. She's our mate. She's hurt. She needs our protection. The mark will—

I said no, I cut him off sharply. I'm not doing that.

Why not? Knox demanded. You feel it too. The bond. The need to protect her. Why are you fighting this?

Because I don't understand it, I responded, my mental voice as cold as ice. Because she's wolfless. Because this doesn't make sense, and I don't mark what I don't understand.

Knox growled his frustration but fell silent. He knew I wouldn't be swayed.

"Are you ok," I said, keeping my voice as gentle as I was capable of. "I'm going to pick you up now."

She didn't respond. I bent down and carefully slid one arm under her knees, the other behind her back. The moment I lifted her, she made a small sound—half whimper, half gasp. Her body went rigid with pain.

That echo of her suffering hit me again—sharp and immediate in my chest. I gritted my teeth against it.

"I know it hurts," I said quietly. "Try to stay still."

I carried her out of that chamber, leaving the bodies behind. The castle corridors were empty at this hour. Most of the pack was either sleeping or attending to funeral preparations. I climbed the stairs slowly, careful not to jostle her too much.

By the time we reached the guest room, her eye had closed. Her breathing had become shallow and irregular.

I laid her on the bed as gently as I could. In the firelight, her injuries looked even worse. Purple bruises bloomed across her ribs. Her face was a mess of blood and swelling. Her knuckles were scraped raw where she must have tried to fight back.

The anger flared hotter. My hands clenched into fists at my sides. I moved to the washbasin, grabbing clean cloths. There was a medical kit in the room. I found bandages, salves, and a small bottle of something that smelled like herbs.

When I returned to the bed, her good eye had opened again. She watched me approach with a mixture of fear and exhaustion.

"I'm going to clean your wounds," I told her. "This will hurt."

She didn't respond. Just kept staring at me with that haunted look.

I dipped the cloth in clean water and began gently wiping the blood from her face. She flinched at the first touch but didn't pull away.

I forced myself to focus on the task. Clean the wounds. Apply the salve. Bandage what needed bandaging. Don't think about the mate bond that shouldn't exist. Just take care of her injuries and figure out the rest later.

Valencia’s POV

The warm cloth against my battered face should have hurt more than it did. Alpha Logan's hands moved with surprising gentleness as he cleaned the blood from my split lip. Each time I flinched, he paused, giving me a moment to adjust before continuing.

I studied his face in the firelight. His jaw was clenched tight. Those gray eyes that had been so cold when he killed Elijah now held something else—something that looked almost like... concern?

But the anger was there too. I could feel it radiating from him in waves, making the air around us feel charged and dangerous.

"Does it hurt much?" he asked, his voice surprisingly soft.

The question startled me. I'd expected commands, not questions. Certainly not ones that sounded like he actually cared about the answer.

"I've had worse," I said, then immediately regretted it when his eyes snapped to mine. The anger flared brighter.

"That's not what I asked."

I swallowed hard. "Yes. It hurts."

He nodded once, then reached for a small jar on the bedside table. When he opened it, the sharp scent of healing salve filled the air—something with arnica and comfrey, if my mother's teachings were correct.

"This will sting," he warned before applying it to the worst of my facial wounds.

He was right. It burned like fire, and I couldn't suppress the small gasp that escaped my lips. But his hand immediately moved to cup my cheek, his thumb stroking gently across my uninjured skin in a gesture so tender.

The contrast was dizzying. This was the same man who had just decapitated someone with a single swing of his sword. The same Alpha who had stood in that doorway like death incarnate, his face blank and terrifying. Now he touched me like I might shatter.

My mind flashed back to Elijah's head separating from his body. Alpha Logan had killed them both without a change in his expression.

I didn't understand him. Didn't understand any of this.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly, breaking through my confused thoughts.

The question caught me completely off guard. Why would he care about my name? Alpha Marcus and Luna Kestrel had never bothered to learn it. For years, I had simply been "you" or "slave" or "girl." No one had spoken my actual name in so long that hearing the question felt surreal.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I realized he was waiting for an answer. "Valencia," I said quietly. The name felt strange on my tongue after so many years of silence.

"Valencia," he repeated, and something about the way he said it—made warmth spread through my chest. "Where are you from?"

My first instinct was to tell him the truth—that I was from Moonfall Ridge Pack in Aldermer. But Aldermer and Valdoria were still at war. If Alpha Logan knew I was from the enemy kingdom, he might kill me immediately. Or worse, torture me for information.

"I'm a rogue, sir," I lied, keeping my voice as steady as I could. "My parents were rogues too. They died during a raid against rogue settlements."

Alpha Logan's eyes locked onto mine, sharp and penetrating. I felt like he could see straight through my lies. Fear crawled up my spine, but I forced myself to meet his gaze.

"Where did you wander?" he asked.

My heart hammered against my ribs. I searched my memory desperately for a place name that wouldn't give me away. Luna Kestrel had mentioned various territories during her rants about political alliances...

"Thornwick Vale," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

Alpha Logan's eyebrows rose slightly. "That's Elton's territory."

Shit. Of course it was. I nodded, praying he wouldn't ask for more details about a place I'd never actually been to.

"How did you become Marcus's slave?" Alpha Logan stepped closer, and I had to tilt my head back further to look at him.

Panic fluttered in my chest. I needed to think fast. I remembered my father telling me about the kingdom's layout before everything fell apart—Alpha King Winston ruled from the center, with his three sons and brother(Marcus) controlling the outer territories. Alpha Marcus had held the west, Alpha Elton the east, Alpha Logan the north, and Alpha Soren the south.

"Alpha," I began carefully, "I was wandering along the river, heading west. I collapsed near the marshlands from hunger and exhaustion. When I woke up, Alpha Marcus had captured me. I became Luna Kestrel's slave to survive."

Alpha Logan leaned forward. Now he was only inches away from me. I could feel the warmth radiating from his body—something wild and masculine that made my pulse quicken in a way I didn't understand.

He was too close. Too powerful. The scent of him—leather, steel, and something distinctly Alpha—filled my nostrils and made my head spin.

"How long ago was that?" His voice had dropped lower.

"Fifteen years," I whispered.

Something flickered across his face—surprise, maybe, or calculation. "You were a child."

"I was three when my parents died." The lie came easier now, built on the foundation of the first one. "I survived on my own for a while before Marcus found me."

He studied me for a long moment. He simply turned back to the basin and rinsed the bloody cloth.

"Rest now," he said. "We'll talk more in the morning."

He moved to the chair by the window, settling into it with his sword across his lap. The message was clear—he would stay here, watching over me through the night.

I should have felt afraid. Should have worried about what he might do while I slept. But exhaustion pulled at me like a tide, and somehow, with him sitting guard, I felt safer than I had in years.

My eyes drifted closed, and I fell into an uneasy sleep.