The Feral Alpha's Captive-Chapter 88: Hurt

🦋ALTHEA 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Silence pressed in from all sides.

I stared at the nightshade berries, their dark shine catching the candlelight. They looked almost beautiful. Almost harmless.

One bite.

That’s all it would take.

No more fear. No more struggling against what I might become. No more risk of turning into the woman who’d put children in chains and murdered Seraphina.

I reached for them slowly, fingers trembling as they hovered over the glossy black surface.

Maybe the crone was right. Maybe this was mercy—for me, for Thorne, for everyone who would suffer if Zyra consumed me entirely.

"Don’t," Zyra growled, but her voice sounded distant. Tired.

My fingertips brushed one of the berries.

The door burst open.

"Althy!"

I jerked back, the platter clattering as Thal came barreling into the room, his face lit up with pure joy. "You’re awake! You’re finally—"

He stopped mid-step, momentum carrying him forward until he nearly crashed into the bed. His eyes were bright, his smile so wide it looked like it might split his face.

The moment shattered.

Whatever darkness had been closing in around me broke apart like smoke in wind. I blinked, the fog lifting from my thoughts as I stared at him—this boy who’d lost his mother, who’d survived slavery, who still somehow had light left in him.

"Thal," I managed, my voice rough.

He bounced on his feet, hands clasped together. "I’ve been waiting forever! They said you needed rest but I wanted to see you and make sure you were okay and—"

That’s when I noticed it.

A thin scratch across his left cheek, angry and red.

My chest tightened. "What happened to your face?"

His hand flew up to cover it, smile faltering. "Nothing! It’s nothing, I just—"

"Thal." I sat up straighter, pushing the platter aside. The nightshade forgotten. "Who did that to you?"

"No one! I was just—" His eyes darted away, and that’s when I saw it. The faint redness around his lids. The way his lashes clumped together slightly.

He’d been crying.

And he’d tried to wipe it away before coming here.

"Your eyes are really pretty now," he said quickly, words tumbling over themselves. "They’re all purple and blue and they look like the sky at twilight and—"

"Thal." I reached out, catching his wrist gently. "Who hurt you?"

His lower lip trembled. Just for a second. Then he pressed his mouth into a tight line, trying to hold it together.

"I was on her path," he said, voice small. "I didn’t stay in my place. I got carried away, I wasn’t thinking, and she said I shouldn’t be wandering around like I own the fortress and I tried to apologize but she—" The words spilled out faster, his breathing picking up. "She had hazel eyes. And red hair. Older than you but not as old as—" He gestured vaguely toward where the crone had been standing.

My blood went cold.

Red hair. Hazel eyes. Older than me.

"Ivanka," The crone said.

Thal flinched, confirming it.

Ivanna’s mother.

The crone made a soft sound—not quite a laugh, not quite a sigh. I’d forgotten she was still there.

"That woman," she muttered, shaking her head. "Always did have more venom than sense."

I looked back at Thal, anger kindling hot and sharp in my chest.

"What did she do?" I asked quietly.

"It was just a scratch," Thal insisted, but his voice cracked. "I shouldn’t have been in her way, I was supposed to stay in the quarters they gave us, but I wanted to explore and—"

"You’re not a slave anymore." The words came out harder than I intended. "You don’t need permission to walk through this fortress."

His eyes widened slightly.

"And no one—" I leaned forward, making sure he was looking at me. "—no one has the right to put their hands on you. Do you understand?" Never again, Yana did not die for her son to be bullied

He nodded slowly, something like hope flickering across his face.

I turned to the crone. "Where is she?"

The old woman’s smile was sharp. "Likely in the eastern wing, nursing her wounded pride. Ivanna’s been in a state since the war declaration. Her mother’s probably making it worse."

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, standing on shaky legs. The room tilted slightly but I forced myself steady.

"Althea—" Thal started.

"Stay here," I said. "Eat something." I glanced at the platter—at the nightshade still sitting there like a quiet threat. "Not the black berries. Everything else."

The crone watched me with her one good eye, expression unreadable.

I met her gaze evenly. "It seems the evil is within your clan already."

The crone’s expression flickered—just for a moment—before settling back into that unreadable mask.

"Perhaps," she said quietly. "But one bad apple doesn’t spoil the whole orchard. Not if you cut out the rot before it spreads."

"Then I’ll cut it,"

Her smile widened, sharp as a blade. "Be my guest, child."

I didn’t respond. Just turned and walked out the door, my bare feet silent on the cold stone floor.

Behind me, I heard Thal’s uncertain voice. "Is she... is she going to be okay?"

The crone’s answer drifted after me: "We’ll see."

---

The eastern wing was quieter than the rest of the fortress, the corridors lined with tapestries depicting hunts and battles from decades past. Torches flickered in their sconces, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

My anger burned steady and hot, propelling me forward despite the weakness in my legs.

"You should rest," Zyra murmured, but there was approval in her tone. "But I like where this is going."

"Stay quiet," I muttered under my breath.

"Make me."

I ignored her.

Voices drifted from an open doorway ahead—two women.

"—can’t believe he’s allowing them to roam freely," one said. Ivanka. I recognized the pitch. "Vargans. Slaves. Walking around like they own the place."

"Mother, please—" That was Ivanna, her voice strained.

"Don’t ’Mother, please’ me. This is our territory. Our pack."

I stopped in the doorway.

Both women turned, conversation dying mid-breath.

Ivanka was tall, her red hair streaked with gray, hazel eyes assessing me with open disdain. Ivanna stood beside her, younger but with the same sharp features, the same cruel set to her mouth.

"Can we help you?" Ivanka asked, tone dripping false politeness.

I stepped into the room, letting the door swing shut behind me. "You touched Thal."

Ivanka’s eyebrow arched. "The Vargan boy? He was in my way. I moved him."

"You scratched his face."

"He should have been more careful."

The anger in my chest flared hotter. "He’s a child."

"He’s a slave," Ivanka corrected, crossing her arms. "Or he was. Hard to break old habits, I suppose. They need to learn their place,"

Ivanna shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

I took another step forward. "His place is wherever he wants to be. He’s free. They’re all free. And if you touch him again—"

"You’ll what?" Ivanka laughed, the sound harsh. "You’re barely standing, girl."

"There is no need for this," Ivanna cut in.

"You are no Luna, you have no right to—" Ivanka interjected.

"Yet your Alpha marked me," I swept my hair away from the mark on my neck.

The room went silent.

Ivanka’s face drained of color, her eyes locking onto the claiming bite—fresh, unmistakable, permanent.

"No," she breathed.

Ivanna’s mouth fell open. "That’s—that’s not possible. He wouldn’t—"

"He did." I let my hair fall back into place, meeting Ivanka’s horrified stare. "Your Alpha chose me.

"He’ll reject you," Ivanna said quickly, desperately. "He has to."