Chapter 26
Chapter 26
GAMMA ABEL
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I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my time as Gamma, but this… Watching Taryn, an Omega no less, handle a man who looks like he could break her anytime soon, like he’s a damn puppy is definitely climbing my list.
The man–a rogue, no less–stands there towering over her, built like he was chiseled out of granite and probably twice as strong. Yet, one word from Taryn, and he’s nodding along as if she’s the Alpha here.
It’s unsettling how much power she has over him.
“Stick with Gamma Abel,” she says, poking a finger into his chest. “Don’t wander off, don’t do anything stupid, and for the love of the goddess, don’t eat anything raw while you’re out there.”
I’ve seen men submit before–hell, it’s my job to make sure they do when the Alpha dermands it–but this isn’t submission. This is something else entirely.
And it’s not just the obedience. It’s the way he looks at her, like she hung the moon, the stars, and whatever other celestial bullshit you could throw into the mix. If Taryn ever snapped her fingers, I don’t doubt this man would burn the world to ash just to keep her warm.
But I’ve learned not to dwell too long on things that don’t make sense.
“We’re moving out,” I bark, pulling my focus away from the odd pair. “Eyes open. Mouths shut.”
The warriors shuffle into formation, but not without the usual grumbling.
“Why’s he here?” one of them mutters under his breath, but loud enough for the group to hear.
“He wasn’t even accepted by the goddess on his ceremony,” another adds.
I whip my head around, silencing them with a glare. “You got time to gossip, you’ve got time to scout the area. Move.”
That shuts them up, though I catch a few sideways glances thrown in Enoch’s direction.
I glance at Enoch, expecting him to react. A snarl, a glare, maybe even a fist to someone’s jaw. But he doesn’t. He’s walking along, calm as ever, as if the whispers are static on a broken radio.
It’s unnerving. A man like him should be dangerous, and yet he looks…detached. The guy has no emotions. None. Unless Taryn’s involved, then he’s practically feral.
And that’s the part that scares me the most.
The forest is damp, the air thick with the scent of wet earth and decay, the thick canopy above barely letting in any sunlight.
We’re deep in the area where we suspect the attack happened. The ground is littered with broken branches and churned–up mud.
I signal for the group to stop, and we spread out, combing through the area. It doesn’t take long to find the remains.
Or rather, it doesn’t take Enoch long to find them.
“What the fuck?” one of the warriors croaks.
I turn, and there’s Enoch, standing there as if he’s just found the world’s most interesting artifact.
Only it’s not an artifact.
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It’s the head maid’s head.
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Her dead eyes stare back at us, frozen in terror, her blood–maned hair clinging to Enoch’s fingers as he holds her head up by
starraforets
“Look,” Enoch says, his voice disturbingly causal, like he’s showing off a wildflower be picked.
One of the warriors pukes into the bushes. Another stumbles back, mattering something about needing a drink
“Enoch,” I say, my voice tight. “Put it down”
He tilts his head, confused, but does as I say, lowering the head to the ground with the care of someone placing a precious
relic.
Kallias, of course, can’t let the moment pass without making a scene.
“See?” he snaps, his glare fixed on Enoch. “I told you he’s the one who killed her. Who the hell else walks around holding heads like that?”
I step between them before this turns into another fistfight.
“That’s enough,” I growl at Kallias.
“He shouldn’t even be here!” Kallias spits. “He’s a danger to the pack-
“And it’s my job to decide who’s a danger, not yours,” I cut him off.
He glares at me, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t push it further.
1 clear my throat and gesture for one of the warriors to wrap the head. “Bag it. We’ll take it back to the packhouse.”
The group reluctantly gets to work, gathering what’s left of the head maid while I keep a close eye on Enoch. He doesn’t look disturbed. Or curious. Or anything, really.
He just… exists, watching the scene unfold with that same calm indifference.
We press on, the air growing heavier with every step.
Kallias stalks over to me, his jaw clenched so tight I’m surprised his teeth haven’t shattered.
“This is insane,” he hisses. “Why the hell is he here? He’s not even pack.”
I hold up a hand to silence him. “My decision stands. You don’t have to like it, but you do have to respect it.”
He looks like he wants to argue but thinks better of it. Smart boy.
We continue the patrol, the lingering anger thick enough to choke on. The metallic scent lingers in the air, growing stronger as we approach a clearing.
That’s when we find it.
“Hold up,” I say, raising a hand.
Everyone freezes,
The tracks are faint at first, barely noticeable in the mud. But the deeper we go, the clearer they become.
Large paw prints, impossibly large, dug deep into the earth. Deep claw marks rake across the bark of nearby trees, too high for any ordinary wolf to reach.
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“What the hell made these?” one of the warriors whispers, his voice trembling.
I crouch down, tracing the edge of a paw print with my fingers. The size alone is enough to make my stomach twist.
“This isn’t just a rogue,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
Kallias steps up beside me, his face pale but determined.
“What do you think it is?” he asks,
Before I can answer, I glance at Enoch, who’s standing off to the side, his expression unreadable.
“What do you think, Enoch?” I ask,
Kallias scoffs. “You’re asking him?”
I ignore him, my focus on Enoch.
He steps forward, his eyes scanning the tracks with the same indifference he’s had all day.
“Powerful,” he says simply.
Kallias snorts, crossing his arms. “Great. Real helpful.”
I shoot him a look, and he falls silent.
“Let’s move,” I say, rising to my feet.
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Whatever made these tracks, it’s still out there. My gut tells me we’re not dealing with just another rogue. And I’m starting to think we’re not prepared to face it.
***
We decided to take a break.
The fire crackles low, its embers glowing faintly as the warriors sit in a loose circle, tearing into the deer we hunted earlier.
The meat’s gamey scent mingles with the damp earth, clinging to everything as a stubborn fog. It’s the only warmth we’ve had since setting out, and yet I can’t enjoy it.
Because Enoch is missing again.
“Where the hell did he wander off to now?” one of the warriors grumbles, ripping a chunk of meat off the bone.
“He’s probably out eating the head maid’s ghost,” Kallias mutters under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear.
I glare at him, and he has the decency to look away.
Standing, I grab my plate and head toward the cliffside where I spotted Enoch slipping away earlier. It’s not unusual for him to disappear, but something about tonight has me on edge.
I find him sitting on a rock near the edge, the moonlight casting a pale glow over his shirtless back. The scars are the first thing I notice–angry, jagged lines crisscrossing his skin like a map of suffering. Whip scars.
I’ve seen enough punishment dealt out in my time to know exactly what caused those.
I sit down beside him, keeping my distance. Up close, his stillness is unnerving.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, breaking the silence.
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He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on the forest stretching out below us.
“Want to go back,” he says, his voice low, rough.
“Back where?”
“To Taryn.”
I can’t help but laugh. It’s a dry, humorless sound. “You’re sitting out here on the edge of nowhere, covered in blood, and all you can think about is Taryn?”
He finally turns to me, his expression blank but his eyes softening just slightly.
“Yes.”
I shake my head, leaning back on my hands. “You’ve got it bad, kid.”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the wind whistling through the trees. I nod toward his back, unable to ignore the scars any longer.
“What about those?” I ask. “Where’d they come from?”
He shrugs, his shoulders moving stiffly. “Enoch don’t know.”
It’s not much, but I get the feeling he’s telling the truth.
After a long pause, he speaks again. “Feels like… waiting.”
That caught me off guard. I turn to him, “Waiting for what?”
His jaw tightens, and he stares down at his hands as though they hold the answer. “Something to wake up.”
Ah. The wolf.
“Taryn said you can’t shift yet,” I say, watching him carefully. “Maybe that’s it. Your wolf’s still dormant.”
At the mention of her name, his head snaps up, and for a moment, there’s something almost childlike in the way his eyes light up. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by the usual impassive mask.
Before I can say more, Kallias strides up behind us, his boots crunching against the gravel.
“Still brooding?” he sneers, his tone sharp. “Maybe you should wake up too and leave the pack while you’re at it.”
I see it then–just a flicker. Anger–an emotion I haven’t see him wear since, bleeding into Enoch’s green eyes. A warning shot.
Kallias doesn’t miss it either. He takes a step back, muttering something under his breath before storming off.
I exhale slowly, more tense than I’d like to admit. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
Enoch doesn’t respond. He only sits there, his gaze once again fixed on the forest, as if nothing happened.
By the time we decide to head back, the night feels heavier, the forest closing in around us.
The tracks and scent we’ve been following twist and turn, leading us into uncharted territory. I don’t recogin the terrain, and neither does anyone else.
“We’re lost,” one of the warriors mutters, tight with unease.
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Chapter 26
I’m about to snap at him to shut up when Enoch steps forward, deliberately walking on his own.
“This way,” he calmly instructs.
The group freezes, exchanging uncertain glances.
“How the hell does he know?” Kallias whispers, suspicion laced in every word.
I don’t know either, but there’s confidence in that kid’s posture that I can’t ignore.
“Follow him,” I order, ignoring the murmurs of protest.
He leads us out of the forest as though he’s walked it a hundred times, his steps sure is steady for someone not from this pack.
By the time we slip through the back of the packhouse, I’m too baffled to say anything.
How the fuck did he do that?
The others look just as confused, but before anyone can ask how the hell he did it, Enoch’s gone.
He’s striding toward the garden, where Taryn is bent over, watering the plants.
“Taryn,” he murmurs, carrying through the still night.
She looks up just in time for him to sweep her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. His hands grip her tightly, afraid she might vanish if he lets go.
Ah, young love.
I glance at Kallias, who’s standing a few feet away. His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists. The jealousy rolling off him is palpable, but there’s something else there too–something darker.
I look back at Enoch, at the way he holds Taryn so different from the man we’ve been patrolling with since earlier.
Who the hell is this man?
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