Page 22

THE NEXT DAY

T he nauseating tension that has been building since we left the castle doesn’t let up, and I know Kyson feels it, too. He hasn’t stopped glancing out the car window or fidgeting with his cuffs. Leaving Ivy behind has him more on edge than usual, though he tries to mask it.

We’re an hour into the drive now, the road twisting through thick forested terrain. I grip the wheel tightly, focusing on the curves, while the king stares out at the passing scenery. His silence is heavy, filled with thoughts he hasn’t voiced yet, but I know his mind is on Ivy. It always is.

Damian is back at the castle, keeping an eye on her and ensuring her safety while Kyson and I deal with this trip.

The meeting with Alpha Dean is important, especially if it sheds light on Ivy’s lineage, but the king’s patience is wearing thin.

He’s itching to return to her just as I am itching to return to Abbie.

I glance at him in the mirror. He’s leaning back in his seat, one hand on his temple, the other tapping against his thigh. I know that look. He’s already calculating the fastest way to finish this meeting and get back.

“She’ll be fine, Kyson,” I say, breaking the silence.

He huffs but doesn’t respond, his jaw tightening.

“Damian will keep her safe,” I add. “You know he’d throw himself in front of an army if it meant protecting her.”

Kyson finally speaks, his voice low. “It’s not just her safety. I hate leaving her.”

I nod, understanding better than most what he means. Since finding his mate, the king has been calmer, more focused—when he’s with her, at least. But when she’s out of his sight, that calm shatters, and the predator in him surfaces.

We drive in silence for a while, the rhythmic hum of the tires filling the void.

My thoughts wander to the reason for this trip.

Alpha Dean claims to have found something about Ivy’s parents—something alarming.

I’m not sure what he means, but I don’t like the sound of it.

But I also want to learn more about Abbie.

Find out where she came from and how she and Ivy ended up together.

Their bond is unshakeable. Eerie in a sense I’ve never seen friends form a bond like that but they have; they fret without each other, always worried about the other but never themselves.

And then there’s Mrs. Daley, the headmistress from the orphanage.

That woman has been on my radar since the day I learned about the scars on the girls’ backs. Kyson’s, too. He hasn’t said it outright, but I know he’s planning to deal with her personally. Her days of terrorizing innocent children are over.

“Do you know what Alpha Dean wants to see me for?” Kyson asks, breaking my train of thought.

“No idea,” I reply. “I called him this morning, and all he said was that it’s about her parents. He seemed… cagey, though. Whatever it is, he didn’t want to discuss it over the phone.”

Kyson nods, his brow furrowing. “Anything on the children yet?”

I know he’s talking about the other rogues from the orphanage, the ones who vanished without a trace.

“Not yet,” I say. “But I think it has something to do with that no-good son of his.” My tone darkens as I think about Alpha Dean’s son.

Alpha Brock. Trouble seems to follow that man wherever he goes.

Kyson grunts in acknowledgment but doesn’t press further. Instead, his gaze shifts back out the window, and I know his thoughts are on Ivy again when I feel the mindlink open; he questions Damian about her.

“She’s helping rake leaves in the garden,” Damian’s voice echoes through the mindlink, pulling me back to the present.

I feel Kyson’s energy shift instantly, his protective instincts flaring. He growls softly. “Why is she working? She’s spent her entire life working, and now, when she has the freedom to do as she pleases, she’s still acting like a servant.”

I suppress a smile at his frustration. Ivy’s habit of falling back into work isn’t surprising, but it clearly grates on Kyson’s nerves.

“Make sure she’s in bed by eight,” Kyson orders Damian. “She needs to sleep before tomorrow night.”

Damian’s response is calm, as always. “I was going to tell her to come in soon, anyway. It’s getting overcast. How far out are you now?”

“An hour,” Kyson replies before cutting the link.

I glance at him briefly. “You going to be able to keep it together during this meeting?” I ask, half-teasing.

His lips twitch, but his expression remains serious. “I want answers, Gannon. If Alpha Dean knows something about her parents or her past, I want to know everything.”

I nod, my hands tightening on the wheel. “You’ll get them, Kyson. And after that, we’ll deal with Mrs. Daley.”

A dark smile plays on his lips. “I plan to do more than deal with her. That woman’s back will bear the same scars she gave my mate. If I’m merciful, I might let her live, but I make no promises.”

His tone is calm, but the menace behind his words is unmistakable. I smirk, knowing he means every word. “I called ahead,” I tell him. “Figured you’d want a word with her. The Alpha has her strung up in the town square, waiting for you.”

Kyson’s eyes flicker with satisfaction. “Good.”

The rest of the drive passes in tense silence, both of us lost in our thoughts.

As much as I want to deal with these issues swiftly, I know Kyson is counting the minutes until he can return to Ivy, while I’m counting mine down to get back to Abbie.

When we finally reach the edge of Alpha Dean’s territory, I slow the car, my senses sharpening as we approach the gate.

The guards step forward, recognizing the king instantly, and wave us through.

Kyson’s demeanor shifts the moment we enter the pack’s territory.

His usual commanding presence takes on an edge of coldness and his aura promises violence.

Whatever Alpha Dean has to say, I know Kyson will handle it swiftly.

so Alpha Dean better have a good excuse for dragging us here or Kyson may just lose it.

The sun dips low in the sky as we near the decrepit little town where the king first discovered his mate.

I hate this place. It reeks of decay, neglect.

The buildings lean precariously, their facades cracked and crumbling, while the streets are littered with broken signs and scattered debris.

It’s a cesspool of despair, a fitting backdrop for the events that led to Abbie’s suffering.

As we pull into the town square, my gaze immediately lands on Mrs. Daley, tied to a wooden post in the center.

Her bony wrists are bound tightly above her head, and she shivers as the cold wind tears through her tattered clothing.

Gone is the proud, tyrannical woman who terrorized Ivy and Abbie.

In her place is a trembling, pitiful creature, her eyes darting around in desperation.

The sight stirs no pity in me. If anything, her fear only fuels the dark satisfaction brewing in my chest knowing I’ll most likely get to deal with her. I’ve waited for this moment since the day I learned what she did to those girls, and now, justice will finally be served.

Alpha Dean and his son, Brock, wait nearby.

Dean steps forward to greet the king, extending a hand, while Brock hangs back, his head bowed submissively.

I can smell the fear rolling off him, sour and thick.

He knows something , I think to myself, but that will come later.

Right now, my focus is on the trembling woman before me.

“Tied and waiting, as you requested, My King,” Alpha Dean says cautiously. “May I ask what she did wrong?”

Mrs. Daley’s whimpering grows louder, her wild eyes pleading with the Alpha.

Kyson’s voice is icy as he replies, “I think the question is what she did right because there is no reasoning that could explain why you would leave a cruel, spiteful woman in charge of raising innocent children,” Kyson tells the Alpha, his tone icy and unyielding.

Dean pales but nods slowly. “Right, of course. I can see to her punishment if I know what she did wrong,” he stammers, casting a wary glance at his son. Brock’s guilt is written all over his face.

“Punishment is already decided, Alpha. I wanted to do it myself, but Gannon has volunteered so that we could get this over with quickly. He even brought his own whip.”

I step forward, uncoiling the leather whip from the back seat. Mrs. Daley’s face drains of color, and she thrashes against her restraints, her panicked cries echoing through the square.

“How many lashings did we count on the girls’ backs?” Kyson asks, his voice calm but lethal.

“Seventy on Abbie’s,” I reply coldly. “And at least one hundred thirty-five on Ivy’s, though many of their scars overlap, so the true number is likely higher.”

“My King, 200 lashes, she won’t be able to stand. She couldn’t possibly heal fast enough,” Alpha Dean interjects, his voice laced with unease. Mrs. Daley’s pleading eyes meet theirs pleadingly, but I remain unmoved. It’s not like Abbie and Ivy were ever able to heal.

“Quite right, we can’t have that,” the king muses.

The Alpha lets out a breath, seemingly relieved. While Kyson turns to me, his voice cold and firm.

“Double it; I don’t want her standing at all.”

The woman screams and thrashes against her restraints, her desperate cries echoing through the run-down town square. The two Alphas look at the king in horror.

“Shall we get this meeting over with?” The king motions toward the pack house. Both Alphas hurry ahead, their shoulders tense and their steps quick.

“Gannon?” the king calls out before climbing the steps inside.

“Yes, My King?” I respond, peering up at him.

“Make sure you swap arms. I wouldn’t want you to get a cramp or tire out.”

“Of course, My King,” I nod before stalking toward the cowering headmistress.

Mrs. Daley screams, her voice shrill and grating as she begs for mercy. Her pleas fall on deaf ears. I flick the whip in my hand, testing its weight, and step closer to her trembling form while Kyson disappears with Alpha Dean and Alpha Brock.

“Make sure you count for me, I wouldn’t want to miss one,” I tell her before the first crack of the whip slices through the air. It lands with a satisfying snap across her back, and her scream pierces the silence.

The small crowd that has gathered to watch, stare in horrified silence as the lashing continues, each strike drawing fresh blood and tearing through the thin fabric of her dress.

She thrashes and wails, her cries turning hoarse as the punishment drags on.

But no amount of screaming will erase the memories of what she did to those girls.

Her back is soon a crisscross of angry red welts, blood dripping down her sides, and still, I don’t stop. Each strike is a catharsis—a release of the rage that has been simmering within me since the day I saw Abbie’s back.

“Please, enough, I’ve had enough,” she whimpers, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You think this is enough?” I hiss at her, pausing for a moment to catch my breath and change arms. Kyson was right because this shit is tiring. “You think this even comes close to what you put them through?”

Mrs. Daley sobs, her body sagging against the ropes. She can’t answer me, but I don’t expect her to. She deserves worse than this, but this will have to suffice. For now , I think as I bring down the whip on her back.