Alpha's mate is a male?!?-Chapter 114: Unstoppable!

Ace remains still, his body limp against the cold stone. The burn from the potion lingers, but it hasn’t taken control of him. It never will.

They have reinforced him by magic, and now it’s hoovering over him. It’s really uncomfortable and he is loosing his composure.

The voices around him shift, low murmurs of uncertainty bleeding into the air.

"He should feel the pain of losing what he treasures most," the witch leader sneers again, his tone laced with cruel amusement. "Only then will he understand he is nothing."

Ace keeps his breathing shallow, feigning unconsciousness.

His wrists ache where the metal binds them, but pain is secondary to information. Every word spoken in this room is a weapon he can use.

A weak voice comes from somewhere to the left. "Is this truly necessary? Alpha Kieran was right, there was no reason to do this the hard way. We should have tested him first. Why are we afraid of him is we are not evil, his powers burn only the evil ones."

Silence falls like a blade.

Then...

A thud echoes through the chamber. The sound of a body hitting the wall, hard.

A strangled cough follows.

Ace doesn’t open his eyes, but he listens. He feels.

The leader’s voice slithers through the air, dark and unyielding. "Did I ask for your opinion?"

The one who spoke, who dared to question him, gasps for breath. Magic presses against the air, thick and suffocating.

Ace senses it, the raw force of dominance crushing down on the dissenter.

"Anyone else? Anyone else who dares question me of what am doing!?" the leader drawls.

Silence.

A cruel laugh. "I thought not."

Ace focuses inward, sharpening his senses. The energy in the room is tangled, darkness wrapped around uncertainty, fear knotted between threads of obedience.

Not all of them agree with this.

Not all of them want this.

That’s when it clicks.

Kieran was right.

They should have tested him because not all witches are evil.

Ace had always believed they were just his enemy, an opposing force. But his powers don’t burn witches. They burn evil.

Some of the people in this room, perhaps even the ones chaining him, are afraid of him for a reason. Because they know what they are.

Maybe that’s why the leader hasn’t dared touched him from the beginning..

Ace keeps his face slack, his body unmoving, but inside, his mind sharpens like a blade.

A footstep shuffles near him. A hesitant voice, lower than the others. "He... he doesn’t look like he’s weakening."

Another, more cautious voice joins. "What if we were wrong? What if Masrat isn’t working the way we expected?"

The leader lets out a slow, deliberate sigh. "Then we increase the dose."

A small tremor of unease ripples through the room. Ace doesn’t miss it.

Another witch shifts, the movement barely audible, but their whisper carries. "He burns the wicked, not just witches... We both know that."

A harsh crack rings out, flesh against flesh.

A sharp inhale.

Then the leader’s voice, low and venomous. "You dare say that after I warned everyone?! Say that again, and I’ll carve out your tongue myself."

Ace’s stomach coils with a dark, simmering rage.

There are witches here who know the truth. They know that if Ace’s powers turn against them, it’s not because he’s hunting them as a species, it’s because they are corrupt.

The leader steps closer but dares not to touch hi., his voice drips with mockery. "Still sleeping, little wolf?"

Ace forces himself to remain still. He can feel the leader watching him, waiting for a twitch, a flicker of resistance.

The leader hums in amusement. "You should thank me, you know."

Ace waits.

The leader leans in, his breath warm and sickly against Ace’s skin. "Because when I finally destroy you, you’ll have the comfort of knowing you never had a choice to begin with."

Ace almost laughs.

This man has no idea.

"Increase the dose. If he’s still conscious, he won’t be for long."

A pause.

Then, a new voice, softer, hesitant. "And... if he doesn’t weaken?"

The leader scoffs. "Then we burn him! He can as well die like that!"

Ace hears the sharp intake of breath from one of the witches.

"You really think Kieran and his pack will just sit back and wait, they must be coming for us."

"Shut the hell up and do as told!" The leader yells.

Ace’s fingers twitch against the stone, a slow, deliberate movement as his anger builds.

He can feel them, the ones who are helpless, the ones too afraid to fight back. They are trapped under this leader’s rule, forced into obedience, controlled by fear.

Something dark and simmering rises inside him. A realization that sears through his veins like fire.

When he told Kieran earlier that he had a plan, he hadn’t actually had one. He just wanted to buy time. And also save those who their lives were in danger.

He had hoped for an opportunity, a chance to turn the situation in his favor.

But now?

Now he has something far more dangerous, a reason to fight. A real plan.

Ace isn’t just going to survive.

He’s going to destroy the corruption in this room.

His body aches from the restraints, but it no longer matters. The moment his power surged through his chest, he knew, he was never the one in danger here.

They were.

These witches think their leader is their strongest force, but even now, cracks are forming in their loyalty.

The murmurs of doubt, the hesitation, the quiet defiance in their voices, it’s there. Some of them are questioning everything.

Some of them don’t want this.

That’s why the leader is so desperate. That’s why he’s pushing harder, demanding obedience through force.

Because if even one witch stands against him, it might be enough to shatter his hold on the others.

Ace’s rage sharpens, cold and precise. He hates evil people. He hates corrupt people.

And he will not let them win.

His mind races, his senses expanding beyond his body.

He’s always been able to feel people, sense their emotions, their intent. And right now, in this very room, he feels two types of witches.

The ones who are afraid.

And the ones who deserve to burn.

Ace breathes in, slow and steady.

This is it.

If the witches won’t act, he will.

His fingers tighten into fists, his body going taut as energy hums beneath his skin. His flames won’t harm the innocent. They never have.

They never will.

But the wicked?

They will scream.

The leader keeps speaking, oblivious to the shift in the air, to the storm brewing right under his nose.

Ace is awake.

And he’s about to set the world on fire.

_

Before he opens his eyes, he channels his power, guiding it through his body, strengthening himself against the wicked magic trying to suppress him.

It coils around him like invisible chains, pressing down with an overwhelming force, but he refuses to succumb.

His power pulses in response, shielding him from the corruption that seeks to invade his mind and body.

Then, he opens his eyes.

The weight of the spell slams into him immediately, forcing him against the cold stone floor.

He tries to move, but the magic tightens, pressing against his chest like an iron grip.

It’s strong, stronger than he expected, but not unbreakable. He grits his teeth, his rage bubbling just beneath the surface.

Ace calls upon his flame.

From the mark on his chest, the fire stirs, answering his call like an old friend.

It ignites in his core, rushing through his veins before spilling into his hands in brilliant blue streams.

The fire crackles, alive and untamed, curling around his fingers with an intense heat that does not burn him, but will consume those who dare stand against him.

With a growl, he presses his hands against the unseen barrier.

The magic holding him down resists, pushing back against his fire.

He recognizes this_ he’s felt something like this before. Lila’s boundary. The way it suffocated, the way it drained strength.

But Ace isn’t that same helpless person anymore.

The fire surges outward, its blue glow illuminating the dark chamber. The heat intensifies, rippling against the magical barrier, searing through the layers of suppression.

The pressure around him begins to waver, the spell weakening under the raw force of his power.

The witches notice.

A few gasp in alarm as the air grows unbearably hot.

Some step back, their uncertainty turning to fear.

Others, the wicked ones, including their leader, hold their ground, trying to reinforce the spell, trying to contain him.

But they are too late.

Ace’s fire erupts, shattering the restraint in a burst of blue flames.

The force of it sends a shockwave through the room, knocking back those closest to him.

The barrier disintegrates, and Ace pushes himself up, his fire dancing wildly around him.

He stands tall, his chest rising and falling steadily, his flames reflecting in his cold, unyielding eyes.

He sends his powers, surrounding the room_ in that, no one can escape from the room.