The Feral Alpha's Captive-Chapter 43: Convulsion

🦋ALTHEA

It stung like hell.

My hand.

The room froze, even as the sharp crack of the slap continued to echo—once, twice—off stone and steel.

Ivanna stood motionless, eyes wide, watching in real time as her cheek bloomed red, the imprint of four of my fingers burning into her skin.

I had raised my hand.

I had slapped her.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t the one being struck.

It was the other way around.

Apologise

My brain screamed at me.

Say you are sorry.

BEG.

My mind echoed command after command, each subconscious voice louder and more aggressive than the last.

My thighs shifted, my knees buckled, trying to force me to kneel.

"How dare you—" Ivanna screeched, high enough for me to flinch, her hand came up—and shifted—to claws.

All bravery drained out of me in an instant as the claw came for me. All I did was brace, I didn’t move or attempt to stop it.

My body and my mind yell over the other, telling me to stay put, that I deserved to be punished for what I did.

I stood there, even as time slowed, almost giving me a chance to dodge or stop the assault.

You deserve all you get! My mother’s voice rang through my skull.

Warmth wrapped me up so quickly, it was jarring

It was not the searing heat of an injury, nor was it the burn of impact.

Instead something hard, familiar slammed into the space between us.

There was a wet, sickening sound. A sharp tear, followed by the unmistakable splatter of blood hitting stone.

Ivanna screamed. Yet there was triumph in the panicked sound.

I stared, frozen, as the claw meant for my throat sank instead into flesh that was not mine.

The Hell Hound stood between us.

He hadn’t shouted. Hadn’t announced himself. One moment I was bracing for pain, the next he was simply there, his arm raised, intercepting the blow meant for me.

I blinked, the scene losing focus for a minute.

He had not verbally defended me, he had physically. He had taken a strike meant for me.

Did he not hear what his own Zeta had said, or the words of his...fiance?

My stomach churned violently at the thought.

Ivanna’s claws were buried deep in his forearm.

Blood poured freely, dark and obscene, sliding down the length of his skin and dripping onto the floor in thick, uneven drops.

My stomach lurched.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

The world narrowed to that single, impossible sight.

"Alpha—" Ivanna stammered, her claws trembling as she tried to pull back. "I—I didn’t mean—she attacked me, she—"

"Enough."

His voice was calm.

Too calm but the undercurrent of a warning rang through his strained words.

He looked down at his bleeding arm, not with pain or anger, but with something close to mild inconvenience.

Then—slowly—he reached up with his other hand and wrapped his fingers around Ivanna’s wrist.

"Let go," he said.

She did.

The moment her claws withdrew, blood gushed—but before my eyes, before my mind could catch up, the flesh began to knit together.

Muscle drew closed.

Skin sealed.

Bone reformed beneath the surface with a soft, nauseating pull, like something being stitched from the inside out.

Within seconds, the wound was gone.

Only blood remained—staining his sleeve, his hand, the floor.

Ivanna stared at his arm like she was seeing a ghost, horror etched onto every line of her beautiful face.

"I—I was provoked," she rushed out, words tumbling over themselves. "She struck me, she—"

He turned his head slightly.

That was all.

But it was enough to silence her.

"You are forgiven," he said.

The words landed like a hammer.

Ivanna’s mouth fell open.

Forgiven?

"You will take your seat," he continued, voice even, unyielding. "Now."

"But—"

"This meeting," he said quietly, "is not yet over."

Something in his tone finally broke through her panic. Ivanna swallowed, her face pale, her hands shaking as she backed away and returned to her chair. She did not look at me again.

I still hadn’t moved.

I was shaking too hard.

The Hell Hound turned to me, I could feel his eyes over me without actually meeting them. I had only seen them once and I had the overwhelming urge to get rid of his mask to gaze into them.

His gaze caught mine through the silver mask.

"Breathe," he said softly, just for me.

I did.

Then he turned back to the gathered Zetas, blood still dripping from his fingers, staining the floor as undeniable proof of what had just transpired.

"Zeta Kael," he said.

Kael stiffened.

"You were able to gather," the Hell Hound continued, "a great deal of useful and intriguing information while you were held captive."

Kael nodded slowly, wariness creeping into his expression.

"Then you should also know," the Alpha said, voice sharpening, "who within this clan framed Althea."

The room went utterly still.

Every eye swung back to Kael.

I felt something shift—deep, irrevocable.

This was no longer about whether I was guilty.

This was about who had dared to lie.

And for the first time since I’d been dragged into this fortress in chains, I understood something with terrifying clarity:

The Hell Hound was no longer standing between me and the fire.

He had stepped into it.

This would make or mar the entire structure of a clan that I had gathered he loved so much.

I bit the inside of my cheek as I watched the face of the old man, his expression was closed off all of a sudden, his eyes raked me, tremor passing through me in the face of his scrutiny.

"Of course for it all to work, they needed eyes and hands in our clan and I know who is responsible."

"And who is that— 𝑓𝑟ℯ𝘦𝓌𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝑐ℴ𝓂

His mouth opened again, but no words came out.

The sound was wrong—wet, choking, violent.

Blood spilled from his lips in a sudden rush, dark and thick, splattering against the stone at his feet. He gagged, one hand flying to his throat as his body seized, convulsing so hard his knees buckled beneath him.

"Kael—" someone shouted.

He collapsed.

The impact echoed through the chamber as his body hit the floor, limbs jerking uncontrollably, blood foaming at the corners of his mouth as his eyes rolled back, showing only white.