The Feral Alpha's Captive-Chapter 60: Her Amulet

🔹THORNE

The breath of the Solstice was upon the land, its scent of petrichor despite the rain not having fallen. The woods that severed the clan from the red mist sang its eerie hum, and despite the losses of the season—Kael and the Vargan slaves of the allied packs whose names had been lost to death and their memory eroded by time—we would march out and hunt under the gaze of the crimson moon.

And hoped that we all made it back home.

Alive.

And that we would not join the army of nightmares.

Yet as my mind whirled with shifter position strategy for the Solstice, the petulant woman slipped in. Holding my thoughts captive had become a talent of hers, and I was at the end of my sanity.

"Alpha," Garrett called, yanking me out of my thoughts.

My eyes found focus, through Nyx’s, landing on my gamma.

"I am done with the amulet distribution all over the clan. The newborns have been fixed with theirs as well," he assured.

I nodded. "You are dismissed."

He inclined his head. "As you wish, Alpha."

Then I remembered. "Garrett, I need one more amulet," I told him. "Tell the deltas to make one more."

I doubted she needed it. What would one or two nightmares that we might encounter do to her when she could walk straight through a sea of them? But I preferred to be certain that she would make it through the night—even if I dreamed of skinning her.

Umbra snarled against my impulsive thought, rousing from whatever slumber he had been in.

I ignored his tantrum. He had lost all sense since finding his mate. She was his mate and not mine, so it would remain only his problem. He craved her and I didn’t. He wanted to protect her—I wanted to put the bitch in her place.

Maybe there had been a time that I pitied her, let whatever humanity I had left cloud my judgment, but no more of that.

I would never make some arbitrary concession for her sake.

Never bend my will for a woman who walked through my walls as though they were smoke and ash. Never pretend that the pull in my chest was anything more than irritation, than the itch of a problem left unsolved.

If she truly believed that she had me because I dared have empathy, she was horribly mistaken.

I belonged to no one, much less her.

She would just have to understand that the hard way.

My plans for her during the Solstice would burn away any entitlement she had. It was the reason I didn’t tell her what the hunt entailed. And still, compared to what she had done—what she had said—I was far too lenient. I simply refused to fall to her pathetic level.

"Garrett, you can leave. Make sure the deltas have it done before the day is done. The Solstice is upon us."

"Yes, Alpha." And he was gone.

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🦋 ALTHEA

He tossed the amulet at me, a piece of obsidian wrapped in leather.

"Put this on," he ordered.

I braced myself, then pouted. "Put it on me, mate." I fluttered my lashes and watched him recoil, his features twisting—and somehow he remained utterly perfect.

I caught myself then and giggled, more at myself than anyone else. But of course, my mate thought he was the butt of the joke.

His jaw clenched, shadows flickering at his shoulders like restless hounds.

"I am not your mate," he said, each word deliberate, carved from stone. "And you will put that on yourself, or I will leave you to the nightmares."

I picked up the amulet, letting it dangle from my fingers, turning it slowly in the dim light.

"You made one for me," I said softly, as if the realization had just struck.

"I made one for a liability," he corrected. "To ensure you don’t get yourself killed before I decide what to do with you."

"How considerate," I murmured, slipping the leather cord over my head. The obsidian settled against my sternum, cold and heavy. "My mate, always thinking of me."

"Call me that again," he said, his voice dropping to something dangerous, "and I will gag you for the entire hunt."

I smiled at him, sweet and sharp. "Promises, promises."

His eyes narrowed behind the mask, and for a moment, I thought he might actually follow through.

Then he turned abruptly, his cloak snapping behind him.

"The hunt begins at moonrise," he said without looking back. "You will stay within my sight at all times. You will not speak unless spoken to. You will not approach anyone. You will not—"

"Touch you?" I supplied helpfully.

He stopped mid-stride.

"Breathe near you? Exist in your general vicinity?"

"You think this is amusing," he said, still not turning around.

"I think," I said, my voice losing some of its playful edge, "that you are terrified."

That got him to turn.

His masked gaze locked onto me, and even through the silver, I felt the weight of it.

"Of what?" he asked, his tone flat, challenging.

"Of the possibility," I said quietly, "that I might be telling the truth."

The silence stretched between us, taut and fragile.

"About what?" he finally asked, though I could hear the reluctance in the question.

I met his gaze, letting the mask slip just enough—just a fraction.

"That the moon chose us for a reason."

His expression hardened, shutters slamming down. "The moon," he said coldly, "has made many mistakes. You are simply the latest."

The words should have hurt. They were meant to. I’d been called worse by people I’d loved more, so I just smiled even as the ache in my chest had roused again. It reminded me I could not escape this.

"Then I suppose," I said lightly, "you’ll spend the rest of your life correcting fate’s error."

He stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind the mask. Then he walked out without another word.

And I was left alone with the amulet against my chest and the certainty that tonight—one way or another—everything would change.

Because the letter had made it clear:

Run during the hunt. East edge. They’ll be waiting.

And for Wren, for Yana, for Thal— and for other who had no choice in the fate that they had been dealt. I had been given the choice for them. One husk of a life for many others.

I would.

Even if it meant leaving him behind. Even if it meant proving every terrible thing he believed about me. Even if it meant becoming the nightmare he already thought I was.

I touched the amulet, feeling its cold weight.

He made this for me.

Despite everything— my deeds, words and lies.

He made sure I’d be protected. Yet somehow, was the cruelest kindness of all.

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