Chapter 9
Day after day, Dominic hunted.
Not for food. Not for survival. For punishment.
The propaganda wolf—the one who'd run the broadcast smearing my name, calling me a power-hoarder, calling me a seductress who'd tricked the Alpha—was found hiding in the basement armory.
Dominic dragged him out by his throat.
"You called her a parasite," Dominic said, holding the wolf against the wall. "You told everyone she was manipulating me. You said she deserved what happened."
The wolf sobbed. "Serena paid me! She gave me extra rations—said you'd approved the broadcast—"
"Did I approve it?"
"N-no, but—"
Dominic's claws extended.
When he was done, the wolf would never speak again. Tongue gone. Jaw shattered.
The pack doctor—old Dr. Harlow, who'd been treating me after the burning—was next.
Dominic found him packing a bag, trying to flee.
"You saw her dying," Dominic said from the doorway. "You had the Moonstone Elixir. You could have administered it without my order. You chose not to."
Dr. Harlow's hands trembled. "Alpha, you explicitly forbade treatment—"
"And you've been a healer for forty years. When did following an order to let someone die become acceptable?"
He locked Dr. Harlow in the isolation chamber—the same one where I'd died.
No water. No food. No light.
"You'll feel what she felt," Dominic said as he sealed the door.
Marcus, his Beta, his friend—he came willingly.
He stood in Dominic's office, head bowed.
"I don't have an excuse," Marcus said quietly. "I held her down. She looked at me and I looked away. I've seen that look every time I close my eyes since."
Dominic sat behind his desk, staring at his bloody hands.
"She made you her emergency contact," Dominic said, his voice hollow. "Did you know that? Before the ritual. She listed you as the wolf to notify if anything happened to her. Not me—you. Because she trusted you more than she trusted her own mate."
Marcus made a choked sound.
Dominic closed his eyes. "Get out of the compound. Whatever happens to you out there, you've earned."
Marcus left without argument. He walked straight through the compound gates, into the shadow-contaminated wasteland, and didn't look back.
By day ten, the compound was barely functioning.
Half the wolves had turned.
The other half were dying of thirst, fighting over dew collected from contaminated surfaces.
Bodies piled in the courtyard because no one had the strength to bury them.
And the sky—the sky had turned the color of old blood.
Dominic sat in his quarters, my photo clutched in his hands.
The only photo he had of me where I was actually laughing—truly laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.
He couldn't remember what had made me laugh that day.
He should have remembered. He should have memorized every single moment I was happy.
But he'd been looking at Serena.
Always looking at Serena.
Not for food. Not for survival. For punishment.
The propaganda wolf—the one who'd run the broadcast smearing my name, calling me a power-hoarder, calling me a seductress who'd tricked the Alpha—was found hiding in the basement armory.
Dominic dragged him out by his throat.
"You called her a parasite," Dominic said, holding the wolf against the wall. "You told everyone she was manipulating me. You said she deserved what happened."
The wolf sobbed. "Serena paid me! She gave me extra rations—said you'd approved the broadcast—"
"Did I approve it?"
"N-no, but—"
Dominic's claws extended.
When he was done, the wolf would never speak again. Tongue gone. Jaw shattered.
The pack doctor—old Dr. Harlow, who'd been treating me after the burning—was next.
Dominic found him packing a bag, trying to flee.
"You saw her dying," Dominic said from the doorway. "You had the Moonstone Elixir. You could have administered it without my order. You chose not to."
Dr. Harlow's hands trembled. "Alpha, you explicitly forbade treatment—"
"And you've been a healer for forty years. When did following an order to let someone die become acceptable?"
He locked Dr. Harlow in the isolation chamber—the same one where I'd died.
No water. No food. No light.
"You'll feel what she felt," Dominic said as he sealed the door.
Marcus, his Beta, his friend—he came willingly.
He stood in Dominic's office, head bowed.
"I don't have an excuse," Marcus said quietly. "I held her down. She looked at me and I looked away. I've seen that look every time I close my eyes since."
Dominic sat behind his desk, staring at his bloody hands.
"She made you her emergency contact," Dominic said, his voice hollow. "Did you know that? Before the ritual. She listed you as the wolf to notify if anything happened to her. Not me—you. Because she trusted you more than she trusted her own mate."
Marcus made a choked sound.
Dominic closed his eyes. "Get out of the compound. Whatever happens to you out there, you've earned."
Marcus left without argument. He walked straight through the compound gates, into the shadow-contaminated wasteland, and didn't look back.
By day ten, the compound was barely functioning.
Half the wolves had turned.
The other half were dying of thirst, fighting over dew collected from contaminated surfaces.
Bodies piled in the courtyard because no one had the strength to bury them.
And the sky—the sky had turned the color of old blood.
Dominic sat in his quarters, my photo clutched in his hands.
The only photo he had of me where I was actually laughing—truly laughing, head thrown back, eyes bright.
He couldn't remember what had made me laugh that day.
He should have remembered. He should have memorized every single moment I was happy.
But he'd been looking at Serena.
Always looking at Serena.