The War of the Alphas: Book 1 of the Wolf Rising Saga

17| Crown Pack

Crown Pack: Alpha Robert

Ronan's POV

Her tear stained cheeks still haunt my memory. I feel the ghost of her fingertips against the scars along my back. The same scars I've acquired over the years.

I didn't lie to her. It's not that I wouldn't, it's that I couldn't. How else do I explain the hundreds of scars across my back?

She asked what happened and I walked out of the house. That's not exactly lying to her is it? I couldn't stand to look in her eyes, the ones wet with unshed tears for pain she never felt. I couldn't stand to see my mate hurt because of me. I couldn't stand the thought of her thinking I was weak.

I came back home late at night, when all the lights were turned off. I crawled into the bed beside her and simply laid there, watching her. The moonlight crept in from the curtains and cast a shadow across her angelic face. I tried to count the freckles spread across her skin but I lost count; there were so many and they were all perfect.

Finally I fell asleep and found myself waking up in the morning with my head on her chest and her fingers grazing the skin of my back, beneath my shirt. I didn't say anything and neither did she. We laid there in silence as the sun rose.

She didn't ask what happened again.

"Ronan." A hard shove to my shoulder brought me back to reality. I glared at Milo who stood with me in front of the door in the basement. "Are you ready or do you need a minute?"

"I'm fine," I sigh, clenching my fists. "Let's get this over with before the Alpha kills him."

Milo opens the door, letting it creak with the speed he's using. He's always one for dramatics.

I can instantly smell his blood, meaning my father was here before me. Did he question him or just beat him?

Sitting in the middle of the dark room is the rogue Beta who crossed our territory a week earlier. He sits on his knees, his head down with his hair covering his eyes, and bound to the silver chains wrapped around his hands and waist.

He doesn't bother to look up when we enter.

"Are you here to beat me like your father did?"

I look over at Milo who looks right back at me. It was expected that my father would have been here already.

"No," I tell him. "Well that depends on whether you answer our questions or not."

He laughs coldly. "Let me guess, you want to know all about the outside world huh? How many packs there are. Who's the strongest. Who's the closest. You want to know if you stand a chance out there." He raises his head, letting me see his bloodied and bruised face. "I'll tell you the same thing I told your father . . . You'll all die screaming." A sinister smile spreads across his lips.

"Do you honestly think we're afraid of them," Milo asks, crossing his arms.

"You don't know what's out there," the rogue spits. "You don't know what they do to each other."

"And you don't know what we, as a pack, are capable of," I tell him smirking. "We're not afraid of anyone out there."

"You should be."

Milo takes two steps towards him, not caring to keep his distance. He bends down in front of him and points to the red scar across his face. "How do you think I got this?"

The rogue glares at him and turns away. "Your own nails I assume."

Milo laughs dryly. "I got it when a bastard like you turned me into him. Him and his buddies kept me in a cage for years, while I went through the transformation. They entertained themselves every day by beating me until I got angry enough to shift which let me tell you, hurt like a bitch," he sneered.