Terrell's POV
I stood in the center of Hawkins' so-called throne room, refusing to sit despite the ornate chairs scattered around like props in a bad theater stage. My boots remained planted on the filthy stone floor, my arms crossed over my chest as I surveyed the space with disgust.
The castle reeked.
After centuries of life, my senses had grown sharper than any blade. I could distinguish between the smell of fresh blood and the copper sweetness of blood three days old. I could smell fear from a mile away, could track a wolf through a thunderstorm by scent alone.
And right now, every instinct I possessed was screaming at me to burn this place to the ground.
The stench was layered, complex in its awfulness. Stale ale puddled in corners. Soiled furniture that hadn't been cleaned in months - maybe years. The velvet sofa nearest me looked like it had hosted more debauchery than a brothel, its cushions stained with substances that could only be stemmed from bad sex and vermin feces.
But beneath it all - woven through the decay like a golden thread through rotted fabric - was something else.
Something that made me pause.
I inhaled slowly, filtering through the assault on my nostrils, searching for that elusive scent. There. Faint, but unmistakable. Vanilla. Fresh-baked cookies cooling on a windowsill. Morning dew on wildflowers. The kind of innocent sweetness that didn't belong in a place like this.
It was achingly pure. Untainted.
Angel.
My jaw clenched. Of course her scent would be like that - soft and gentle, the complete opposite of everything I represented. It lingered in the air like a ghost. It wasn't strong enough to overpower the filth surrounding it, but persistent enough that if I focused, I could almost forget the shit hole I was standing in.
I forced myself to stop breathing so deeply. What the hell was I doing, savoring the scent of a girl I'd come here to reject? A girl whose existence was nothing but an inconvenience, a cosmic joke at my expense?
The Moon Goddess had a twisted sense of humor, pairing me with someone so... ordinary.
Behind me, my generals stood in formation - six of them, their faces impassive but their eyes alert. Gareth was closest, his hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. The others fanned out in a loose semicircle, their presence so domineering that even Hawkins guards looked intimidated.
The slave trader stood off to my right, practically vibrating with nervousness. The weasel-faced man kept shifting his weight from foot to foot, his eyes darting between me and the hallway where Hawkins would presumably make his grand entrance.
As if summoned by my impatience, the bastard finally appeared.
Hawkins swept into the room like he owned the world, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. The smell hit me first - fresh blood, still wet, clinging to his clothes like perfume. But underneath it, decay. Old death. The kind of rot that came from letting corpses fester in dungeons.
My wolf snarled inside me, straining against my control.
The blood, I could tolerate. I'd spilled enough of it myself to fill rivers. But the decay, the careless disregard for even basic dignity in death - that spoke to a weakness of character that disgusted me on a primal level.
"Alpha Terrell!" Hawkins boomed, his arms spread wide as he approached. "What an unexpected honor! Come, embrace me, brother!"
Brother.
I let him get within three feet before I stepped back sharply, my nose wrinkling in open revulsion.
The smile on Hawkins' face flickered.
Behind me, I heard Kade's barely suppressed snicker. Bellick's low chuckle followed. Even Gareth's lips twitched, though my second-in-command had enough discipline to keep his amusement silent.
Hawkins' arms dropped slowly to his sides. His jovial expression cracked, revealing a flash of anger in his eyes before he wrestled it back under control. His jaw tightened, and I could see him grinding his teeth.
Good. Let him stew in his humiliation.
"Alpha Terrell," he said again, his voice considerably cooler. "To what do I owe this... visit?"
I didn't waste time with pleasantries. "I'm here for a girl."
Hawkins blinked, confusion crossing his face. "A girl? I have many girls here, Alpha. You'll have to be more specific."
I jerked my head toward the slave trader, not bothering to give the man any more of my attention. The merchant scurried forward like the rodent he was, his hands wringing together.
"Y-yes, my lord Hawkins," the trader stammered. "The girl in question is called Angel. Human. Early twenties. I sold her to you three days ago. She has black hair, blue eyes, and is really big and fat. Look…" he scurried closer, "I even brought back the money you paid for her."
Understanding dawned on Hawkins' face, followed immediately by something that looked like amusement.
He laughed - a loud, ugly sound that echoed off the walls. "Angel? What kind of name is that for a fat girl?" He wiped tears from his eyes in an exaggerated gesture. "I'm afraid you've wasted your time, Alpha Terrell. There's no girl like that here."
Liar.
I could still smell her, traces of vanilla and innocence clinging to the air despite everything else. She was here. Recently, too, given the freshness of her scent.
"I don't have time for games, Hawkins." My voice dropped to a dangerous pitch. "I know she's here. Bring her out, and we'll be on our way."
Hawkins' smile turned sharp. There was mischief dancing in his eyes - the look of a man who held cards he thought gave him power.
"I told you," he said slowly, "There's no girl like that here." He paused, letting the silence stretch. "But perhaps there was such a girl. And perhaps I've already killed her."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
"You see, Alpha Terrell," Hawkins continued, his voice taking on a lecturing tone that grated against every nerve in my body, "every girl who comes through those doors becomes my property. Mine to do with as I please. If I want to fuck her, I fuck her. If I want to beat her, I beat her. If I want to kill her..." He shrugged eloquently. "Well, that's my right as well."
My hands clenched into fists at my sides. Not because I cared about the girl - I didn't. But Hawkins' blatant disrespect, his smug assumption that he could lie to my face and face no consequences, made my wolf scratch at my insides, demanding blood.
Gareth shifted beside me, a subtle movement that said he was ready to attack on my command.
"One more chance, Hawkins," I said softly. Too softly. "Bring me the girl."
Hawkins' eyes narrowed. For a moment, I thought he might actually comply. Then that smirk returned, even more infuriating than before.
"I. Don't. Have. Her."
The vanilla scent grew stronger suddenly, as if stirred by movement somewhere in the castle. She was on the move. Close.
I smiled, slow and predatory. "You're a fool, Hawkins. And soon, you'll be a dead one."
*********
Angel's POV
Every step sent fire shooting through my body.
My ribs screamed in protest. My face throbbed where Hawkins had struck me. Blood crusted my left eye, limiting my vision. My arms bore the marks of chains, raw and bleeding. My legs trembled with exhaustion and pain.
But none of it mattered.
Nothing mattered except reaching him.
Alpha Terrell.
The name was a brand on my soul, seared into my consciousness along with every other horror of my sad lonely life.
Mother superior's voice still echoed in my head when she'd screamed that name in front of the altar.
And now he was here.
The bearer of that name was here.
The corridor swam in my vision as I stumbled forward, one hand braced against the wall for support. My bare feet left spotted blood stains on the floor. My torn see-through dress was in disarray, making me look half naked - but I didn't care.
I could see shadows ahead. Tall figures, the shapes of men standing in what must be Hawkins' throne room. So close. Just a little further.
My fingers tightened around nothing. If only I had a weapon. A knife. A shard of glass. Anything to make him bleed the way my family had bled.
Twenty more steps. Fifteen.
Then hands seized me from behind, one clamping over my mouth to muffle my scream.
I was yanked backward into darkness, into an alcove I hadn't noticed. A door slammed shut, cutting off the light from the hallway.