The Feral Alpha's Captive-Chapter 45: Letters And Shackles

🦋ALTHEA

My final words to him threatened to clog my throat, but as he nodded, I knew I had said the right thing—no matter how bitter it tasted on my tongue.

The door closed, and I knew better than to try anything. I was alone with my rambling thoughts and the silver chains that still buzzed against my skin.

My eyes caught a glint, and I followed it—a key.

My gaze snapped back to the closed door as I realized he had left it behind for me to unchain myself. Without hesitation, I used it on my shackles.

With a click of the lock, I let out a breath of relief as the first shackle fell away from my ankle. Then the next—

Something slipped free from the space between my ankle and the second shackle.

It fluttered as it fell, light and wrong, brushing my skin before landing on the floor.

I froze.

Slowly, I bent and picked it up.

The scent hit first.

Coppery. Sanguine. Old blood—not fresh enough to burn the nose, but not faded either. My stomach clenched as I lifted the scrap of parchment closer, my fingers trembling now, slick with a cold sweat that had nothing to do with fear.

Blood.

Not allied-pack blood.

No allied-pack-born wolf smelled like this.

This was Vargan.

But not of the clan.

My breath caught painfully as recognition bloomed, sharp and intimate. Slave blood—threaded with exhaustion and fear, with something softer beneath it. Warmth. Familiarity. My hand curled instinctively, knuckles whitening as memory surged unbidden.

A deft hand in my hair. Careful fingers easing apart tangles after a night with Draven, when my scalp ached and my eyes burned from crying. A quiet presence behind me. No questions. No judgment. Just patience.

Yana.

Tears welled before I could stop them, blurring my vision as I pressed the parchment closer, breathing her in like a fool—as if scent alone could summon her back from wherever she had been taken.

Her blood.

Used as ink.

My stomach twisted violently.

How did this get here?

How did it pass through walls, through guards, through him?

My fingers hesitated at the edge of the parchment, dread coiling tight and cold in my chest. This wasn’t from Yana. I knew that before I unfolded it. She would never have written to me like this. Never used her own blood. Never—

I opened it.

The first line stared back at me, dark and uneven against the page.

My blood froze.

Not because I recognized the hand.

But because I recognized the voice.

"Darling, Althea,"

I could hear her mockery as I read.

"It seems you have stumbled into the Hell Hound’s domain, and the moon has decided to play a cruel game with you by mating you to the feral rebel’s mate. But I trust you are smart enough to know that you need to return to where you have always known—our familiar fold."

Bile rose in my throat, coating my tongue.

I grimaced.

But I kept reading, my heart pounding louder with the rush of heady anticipation tainted with ice-cold dread. Tendrils of fear and horror wound around my spine.

"The High Alpha told us of your little wager, and since you did in fact escape, you will no longer be a tribute. And you, being the first to infiltrate the clan successfully, I can say that I am proud of you and commend your bravery. The information you must have gathered will be useful to the High Alpha and our allied packs, so we anticipate your celebrated, triumphant return home."

As I read, my eyes snapped to the door with every word—this would incriminate me.

"Wren misses you."

My chest caved in.

"Yana and Thal as well. And as an incentive to return, I promise no harm will come to them as long as you follow my instructions."

Black tendrils of fear wound around my spine, forcing it straight.

"According to our intel, when the moon is next full, the clan’s solstice hunt will commence. You will ensure you are among those who follow the hunting party out. When the hunt begins and the clan scatters into the perimeters of the mist, you will run to the eastern edge—where the red meets the black—and we will be waiting for you."

My hands shook so violently the parchment rattled.

"You survived the mist once without an amulet, a feat that should have killed you. You survived the Hell Hound himself, another impossibility. Clearly, the moon favors you, darling, even if she’s cruel in her gifts. She will help you evade your accursed mate one final time. Trust in that."

I couldn’t breathe.

The words blurred and refocused, each one a knife sliding between my ribs. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"We will be waiting at the eastern edge. Do not disappoint us, Althea. Do not make me regret giving you this chance."

The next line made my blood turn to ice.

"Draven has forgiven you, you know. For what you did to him. He understands now that you were young, frightened, confused. He’s willing to forget the past. To start again. Isn’t that generous of him?"

A sound escaped me—half sob, half laugh, bitter and broken.

Forgiven me.

For what?

For being an omega he rejected?

For getting pregnant with his child?

For surviving when he wanted me destroyed?

For existing?

I pressed my fist to my mouth, biting down hard enough to taste copper.

The letter wasn’t finished.

"But I must be clear, my darling daughter—"

My vision swam.

"—if you do not return, if you fail to meet us at the eastern edge during the solstice hunt, I cannot guarantee the safety of Yana and Thal. They are... comfortable, for now. Fed. Sheltered. Unharmed."

The next words were written darker, pressed harder into the parchment, as if she had borne down with the quill—or whatever implement she had used to write in Yana’s blood.

"But that comfort is conditional. And I’m afraid my patience, unlike the moon’s favor, is not infinite."

My throat closed.

"It would be unfortunate if something were to happen to them. Yana is so useful, after all. And Thal—well, Thal has always been a loyal creature. It would be a shame to waste such loyalty."

The threat was clear.

Obey, or they suffer.

Return, or they die.

And it would be my fault.

The letter ended with a single line, written in a different hand—rougher, sharper, unmistakably his.

"Don’t keep me waiting, little omega."

"With love—"

I recoiled.

"Your mother,"