Breed Me, Daddy Alpha-Chapter 22.

~Damon~

They were already speaking before I stepped in.

Their voices didn’t carry far, but I didn’t need volume to taste betrayal.

I stood outside the chamber door for a full five seconds. I could’ve walked in. I could’ve slammed the doors off their hinges and demanded silence. But I wanted to hear it. I wanted to know how far they’d fallen while I was out cleaning their mess.

Another patrol lost. Another breach. A child found dead with his stomach hollowed out and his eyes missing. And in the middle of it all, my name sat on their tongues like poison.

Bronn’s voice came sharp and bitter, chewing the air between them.

"He’s done nothing. We’re dying, and our Alpha is fucking invisible."

Ryven responded, voice lower but no less accusing.

"We lost three more last night. The rogues didn’t just kill them. They strung them up. Left them twitching. That’s not an attack. That’s a message."

Then Marin, that smug bastard, hissed like a snake.

"And our Alpha doesn’t even show. Doesn’t send word. Doesn’t send a second. He’s either gone soft or gone rogue."

My fingers flexed on the door handle.

That was enough.

I pushed.

The doors swung open with a sound that made every neck snap toward me. I didn’t slam them. Didn’t shout. Just walked in. Steady. Slow. Silent. And the room swallowed its own heartbeat.

Ten of them. Betas, elders, lieutenants, sitting around a long black table polished with the blood of wolves who had earned their place. Most of them couldn’t even meet my gaze.

I didn’t speak.

Didn’t blink.

I walked to the head of the table and dropped a thick file. Blood-streaked. Sealed with the imprint of my ring. When it hit the surface, it sounded like a death sentence.

And it was.

"Start talking," I said.

Silence.

Then Ryven finally cleared his throat.

"We’re unraveling, Alpha. The southern patrols are decimated. The rogues aren’t hunting like strays anymore. They’re moving like soldiers. Smarter. Faster. Like they’ve trained for this. Like they know us."

Bronn stood, fists clenched, eyes burning with frustration.

"They’re inside. They know our rotations. Our weak points. They’re being fed from within. And while all this is happening, you don’t show. You don’t speak. You leave us blind."

I stared at him.

Then slowly stepped forward until we were almost chest to chest.

"You think I’ve been hiding," I said, voice quiet but sharp enough to slice the air. "You think I’ve been resting while your warriors die."

He didn’t answer.

I opened the file.

Flung it onto the table.

Photos. Names. Coordinates. Wolves they knew. Wolves they trusted. Wolves that bled our secrets into enemy hands like cowards.

"You want to know where I’ve been," I growled. "I’ve been knee-deep in rogue blood beneath Sector Nine. In the frost tunnels where the scent of death is so thick it stains your lungs. I’ve been dragging your traitors out by their throats and carving the truth out of them while you sat here jerking yourselves off with your own fear."

My voice rose.

Not yelling.

Just loud enough to echo through their bones.

"I’ve killed twenty-seven wolves in nine days. Fifteen were ours. Three of them council-born. One of them," I turned to Marin, "your son."

The room froze.

Marin stood.

His face paled.

"You lie."

I took a step toward him. My chest burned. My knuckles cracked from how tight my fists clenched.

"I found his corpse wearing a rogue’s sigil branded into his spine. Found letters, maps, payment routes. I didn’t lie. I slit his fucking throat."

Marin lunged.

I didn’t move.

I let him come.

Let him believe he could touch me.

Then I struck.

One hand to his throat. One foot behind his knee. He collapsed like a bag of bones, and I drove him into the table. Wood splintered. He gasped. Clawed. Choked.

I leaned in.

"You think I flinch from spilling your blood?" I whispered. "You think your legacy means anything when you spit on your oath and raise a traitor in your own home?"

I shoved him off me.

He dropped to the floor, coughing and bleeding, humiliated.

And no one helped him.

Because they were all staring at me now.

Every one of them.

Eyes wide.

Spines stiff.

Because I wasn’t the Damon they thought they remembered.

I was something worse.

I turned to them again.

"You think my silence makes me soft. You think because I haven’t stood at this table and roared, I’ve lost control. But you forgot something."

I gripped the edge of the table and bent forward, looking every one of them in the eye.

"I don’t roar for attention. I kill in silence."

I took my seat.

Finally.

Let the silence hang until it screamed.

Then I spoke.

"Effective immediately. Blood oaths will be renewed. Patrol routes will be rotated. All wolves will be inspected by dawn. Anyone who refuses disappears."

Ryven shifted in his seat. Slowly. Carefully.

"What do you mean... disappears?"

I looked at him.

Dead in the eye.