Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 126

Betrayed by Blood

Matt sat hunched over in the dimly lit inn room, his fingers trembling around the glass of cheap whiskey. The liquid barely burned going down, but it did nothing to settle the unease twisting inside him. His eyes were hollow, dark circles sunken into his skin, his once-pristine clothes now wrinkled and stained.

Three days.

Three days of running. Of hiding. Of waiting for it all to pass.

He had heard what happened. It was all the townspeople could talk about. Cain took everyone in the Silver Moon pack as slaves. He ransacked the pack and tore it apart. His mother, his sisters, his people. They were all under Cain. They were all suffering for his mistakes.

He hadn’t slept more than a few hours, and even then, it was restless—filled with nightmares of blood, snarling teeth, and those piercing green eyes staring right into his soul. Every noise outside sent his heart lurching. Every creak of the wooden floorboards had him gripping the knife he kept by his side.

He had changed locations twice already, never staying too long in one place. But deep down, he knew—it wouldn’t matter. Not if Cain was out there, still searching for him.

Cain wanted his blood specifically. He wasn’t going to be satisfied with just the blood of his people. He wanted revenge against Matt himself.

Matt ran a shaking hand over his face and exhaled sharply. He needed to think. He needed a plan. Maybe he could go deeper into rogue territory, where even Cain wouldn’t bother searching. Maybe he could—

Thump.

Matt’s breath hitched.

A sound. A weight shifting on the roof. Slow. Deliberate.

His grip on the knife tightened, his pulse thundering in his ears. He forced himself to breathe evenly, to stay still. It’s just the wind. Just your mind playing tricks on you.

Then, another sound.

Scrape.

This time, right outside his window.

Matt shot to his feet, heart pounding so violently it made him lightheaded. He turned slowly, his blood running ice-cold. His mouth went dry as he stared at the window. The flimsy curtains fluttered slightly from the night breeze.

Nothing.

No one.

He took a careful step forward, straining his ears, listening. The inn was quiet—too quiet.

Then—

Tap. A single, deliberate tap against the window panel.

Matt’s breath strangled in his throat. His fingers trembled as he reached for the curtain, inching it aside. The darkened street below was empty, the lanterns barely flickering in the night. His own reflection stared back at him in the glass—wide-eyed, disheveled, desperate.

And then—

Green eyes.

Right behind him.

Matt’s scream barely left his lips before a powerful hand slammed his head against the wall. The knife clattered to the ground as his vision blurred, pain exploding through his skull. A sharp, low voice cut through the ringing in his ears.

"Run."

Matt didn’t hesitate. He ran.

The forest was alive with movement. Cain’s warriors had spread out, surrounding the inn, ensuring that Matt had nowhere to run.

Matt didn’t know it yet. He thought he still had a chance.

The fool.

Cain walked through the dimly lit streets, his warriors moving silently beside him. The town was eerily quiet, its inhabitants hiding behind locked doors, too afraid to breathe.

A warrior approached, bowing his head slightly. "He’s inside, Alpha. He hasn’t left since he arrived."

Cain gave a small nod. His lips curled, amusement flickering through his gaze. "He will."

As if on cue, a crash echoed from inside the inn, followed by a panicked shout.

Then—footsteps. Hurried. Desperate.

Cain didn’t rush. He simply lifted a hand, signaling to his warriors. "Let him run."

A second later, the doors burst open, and Matt stumbled out into the street, his face pale, his breath ragged. His clothes were rumpled, his movements frantic as he darted his head side to side—searching for an escape.

Cain tilted his head, watching. And then, Matt ran. He ran straight into the woods. Just as Cain had expected.

Cain exhaled, amused. How did this fool even lead a pack?

"After him." He ordered. At his command, his warriors moved.

Matt was running straight to his death without realizing it.

The woods swallowed him whole.

Matt’s wolf moved fast, weaving through trees, he barely made a noise, But he wasn’t fast enough.

Cain had already shifted, his massive black wolf charging after him.

The chase wasn’t even fair.

His warriors were already in position, moving in from all angles, closing the gaps.

Matt wasn’t escaping. Not this time.

The moment Cain’s fangs sank into his hind leg, Matt howled in agony, his body slamming into the ground with a brutal thud.

Cain tore into him, claws slicing, fangs crushing. Every hit was precise, devastatingly painful. Matt shifted back, gasping, coughing up blood. His ribs were shattered. His face was a mess of bruises and open wounds.

Cain shifted back too, standing over him, his eyes cold, calculating.

Matt let out a weak, choking laugh. His body trembled, barely holding itself together.

"You think you’ve won," he rasped.

Cain didn’t respond.

Matt spat blood onto the ground, his lips stretching into a twisted, bloody grin. "You think you’re untouchable, you bastard, don’t you?"

Cain didn’t respond. He didn’t have to.

Matt wiped his mouth, his eyes gleaming with something sick. Amusement.

"You don’t even realize, do you?" he sneered. "There’s someone in your pack. Watching. Waiting." He chuckled again, his voice turning giddy with hysteria. "You think you have everything under control, Cain? You think you’re the king of the world?" Matt laughed again. His grin widened, his teeth red with blood. "You have an enemy right under your nose, and you don’t even know it."

"Should I tell you? Will you let me live if I do?" Matt was grasping at straws, trying to bargain, trying to prolong the inevitable.

Cain let the silence stretch, watching as Matt’s grin twisted, his bloody teeth bared in a mockery of amusement. "I could tell you," Matt rasped, his breathing shallow, labored. "I could give you a name."

Cain tilted his head slightly, his face unreadable. Then, He smirked. The sight of it made the last flicker of Matt’s confidence shatter.

Cain crouched, his voice quiet yet dangerous. "You think I need you for that?"

"Yes! You do." Matt screamed with the strength he had in him. A mocking laughter left his lips. "You don’t know half the things that go on in your pack. Tell me. Did you know I worked with someone in there to get Xander out of that filthy dungeon? Huh! Did you? You think you’re so much better than me. Than everyone else, but the truth is that you are blind." He spat out.

"I sent those assassins after you. I planted that silver piece onto Xander’s body. I made him smell of bloodroot. I did it all, and yet you didn’t even suspect a thing. You cut off that man’s arm thinking he betrayed you, but I did it. I planned it all." He paused, locking eyes with Cain, a sly grin making its way to his lips. "You’re not as smart as you think you are. I outsmarted you, Cain."

Cain’s gaze darkened at the man’s words. Xander was right after all. He scoffed, stepping closer to the man. "And look where you ended up. Beneath me still." Cain’s hand shot out, gripping Matt’s throat. "You’re already dead," Cain murmured. "I’m just taking my time."

"W-Wait, I can be useful. I can expose who-"

He sucked in a breath, "You have an enemy right under your nose," Matt gasped, his voice breaking. His nails scratched at Cain’s wrist, but Cain didn’t so much as flinch.

Cain leaned in, his lips near Matt’s ear.

"Not for long."

And then, he ripped off his head. A sickening tear. A brutal, wet snap.

Matt’s head came clean off. His body slumped, lifeless, the last echoes of his cries still hanging in the air.

Cain rose to his feet, blood dripping from his fingers. His warriors stood still, watching. Waiting.

Cain exhaled slowly, then tossed the severed head to one of his men. "Send it to the king," he ordered calmly, his gaze dark as he stared at the severed body of Matt.

"Silvermoon belongs to me now."