The Scorned Luna-Chapter 73: Captured

Damien stood there, his face darkening the moment he saw his uncle standing so close to Sofia’s bed. His gaze darted between Alaric’s relaxed posture and Sofia’s pale, panicked expression.

​"Uncle?" Damien’s face was etched in a frown. "What are you doing in my chambers?"

​Alaric didn’t flinch. He turned slowly, wearing a cool, composed smirk that only served to irritate Damien further. "I came to find you, but it seems I found your slave instead." He shot a wink toward Sofia, his gaze lingering on her frightened face before turning back to his nephew. "It is great news that she is alive."

​"This doesn’t concern you," Damien snapped, stepping into the room and effectively placing his body between Alaric and Sofia. "What is this? Why were you talking to her?"

​"Nothing of importance," Alaric said smoothly, walking toward the door. He paused and looked back at Sofia one last time, his eyes burning with a promise that terrified and intrigued her. "Sofia, I’ll see you around."

​With that, Alaric disappeared into the hallway, leaving a suffocating tension behind him. Damien slammed the door shut and turned to Sofia, his eyes glowing with anger. "What did he say to you? Did he touch you?"

​Sofia backed away until her hips hit the bedpost. "He just said it was a test, Damien. He didn’t touch me."

​"I don’t like what I’m seeing, Sofia!" Damien roared, stalking toward her. He grabbed her wrists, his pulse thundering against her skin. "Stay away from him. Do you hear me? If I catch you alone with him again, I won’t be so merciful."

​Sofia looked at him, her blue eyes filling with sudden, sharp annoyance. "It’s not me you should tell—tell that to your uncle!" she spat.

​Damien’s grip tightened on her wrists for a second before he suddenly shoved her away as if her skin burned him. The air in the room was thick with a jealousy he couldn’t name and a desire he refused to acknowledge.

​"Get out!" he roared, pointing toward the door. "Get out before I do something we both regret!"

​Sofia didn’t wait. She scrambled as she sprinted toward the door. She didn’t look back to see Damien kick a wooden stool across the room, the furniture splintering against the stone wall.

​"No..." Damien groaned, burying his face in his hands as he sank to the edge of the bed. "I can’t be in love with her. I can’t still love a murderer. Goddess, why won’t this feeling die?"

​Sofia ran through the dim servants’ corridors, her heart hammering against her chest. She just wanted the safety of her own small cot—a place where she could hide from the predatory gazes of the three most powerful men in the pack.

​She reached her door and fumbled with the handle. But just as she stepped into the darkness of her room, a large, calloused hand clamped over her mouth. Before she could scream, a cloth soaked in a sweet, chemical scent was pressed firmly against her nose. Sofia struggled, her body twisting in the stranger’s grip, but the world quickly dissolved into gray, then black.

​Splash!

​Ice-cold water hit Sofia’s face, shocking her back to consciousness. She gasped, choking on the liquid as she tried to wipe her eyes, only to find she couldn’t move. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly to a wooden chair.

​She blinked rapidly, her vision clearing to reveal the damp, stone walls of an unused cellar. Standing directly in front of her, illuminated by the flickering light of a single candle, was a woman whose face was a twisted mask of grief and hatred.

​"Mother?" Sofia whispered, her voice trembling.

​"Don’t call me that!" the woman screamed, the sound echoing off the low ceiling. She stepped forward, the light glinting off the long, silver hunting knife she held in her hand. "You stopped being my daughter the moment you pushed Lola."

​"Mother, please, listen to me," Sofia sobbed, her full lips quivering as she looked at the blade. "I didn’t kill her. I loved her! I didn’t do it, I swear on the Goddess—"

​"Liar!" her mother hissed, pressing the cold tip of the knife against the soft skin of Sofia’s throat. "Alpha Damien is weak. He lets his lust for your body cloud his judgment. He refuses to give you the death you deserve, so I will. I will send you to the hell you belong in, Sofia."

​The woman’s hand was shaking, her eyes wild with a madness born of mourning. Sofia looked at her mother—the woman who should have protected her—and saw a different person.

​"I didn’t kill her, Mother," Sofia said, her voice turning hauntingly calm as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

​The silver blade pressed deeper into Sofia’s skin, drawing a tiny bead of crimson that stood out against her pale neck. Her mother’s eyes were glassy with pain.

​"Goodbye, Sofia," her mother hissed, her knuckles whitening as she gripped the hilt.

​Suddenly, the heavy cellar door was kicked off its hinges with a thunderous boom. Before Sofia’s mother could react, two massive warriors in black leather armor blurred into the room. They moved with the terrifying speed of High King guards, disarming the woman and pinning her arms behind her back in one fluid motion.

​The knife clattered to the damp floor.

​From the shadows of the doorway, Alaric stepped into the candlelight. He didn’t look at the mother; his gaze was locked on the red mark on Sofia’s throat.

​"Let me go!" Sofia’s mother shrieked, struggling against the guards. "She’s a murderer! She killed my Lola!" 𝘧𝓇𝑒𝑒𝑤ℯ𝑏𝓃𝘰𝑣ℯ𝘭.𝘤ℴ𝘮

​Alaric raised a hand, and the guards silenced the woman, forcing her to her knees. He walked toward Sofia, his boots clicking rhythmically on the stone. He reached down and picked up the hunting knife, testing the sharp edge with his thumb.

​"Hold her," Alaric commanded his men, his voice a low, terrifying rumble. "I will deal with her later."

​He leaned down, his large, tattooed hands moving with surprising gentleness as he sliced through the ropes binding Sofia to the chair. The moment she was free, Sofia slumped forward, her body trembling with the aftershocks of terror. Alaric caught her, his strong arms wrapping around her curvy waist to steady her.

​"How..." Sofia rasped, her voice shaking as she looked up at him. "How did you find me?"

​Alaric’s gaze softened for a fleeting second before returning to its usual dark intensity. He tucked a stray hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on her tear-stained cheek.

​"I told you, little bird," he whispered, his face inches from hers. "Once I have an interest in something, I don’t let it out of my sight."

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