The Feral Alpha's Captive Chapter 30: Shifting Shadows

🦋 ALTHEA

The empty solitude beca my only companion when they left by myself. And all I could do was suffer in it.

My face had grown heavy, the salty streams coating my skin barely dry before new tears joined them, cutting fresh paths through the old.

Constant pain had never been very far from the life I had lived, but this incessant searing was sothing beyond anything I’d endured before. It wasn’t just physical—though the brand burned like a living coal pressed into my shoulder blade, never cooling, never easing. It was the wrongness of it. The violation.

Soone was inside . Clawing through my soul like they owned it.

I tried to breathe through it, the way I’d learned to breathe through Morgana’s punishnts, through hunger, through the Labyrinth’s horrors. But this was different. This didn’t end. Didn’t fade. Just burned and burned and burned—

The brand flared hotter, and I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming again. I’d scread myself hoarse already. My throat felt raw, shredded, like I’d swallowed glass. What was the point of screaming when no one could help?

I wanted nothing more than to end this—

I lifted my arms even when I knew that they would weigh a ton.

But they ca up light. I froze when I realised—

The deltas did not chain . There were no weights or binds holding in place or holding captive.

I was free.

A draught ran over my feverish body.

The window.

It was open. Not just cracked—open. Wide enough that cold air poured through, cutting through the oppressive heat radiating from the brand. Wide enough to see the night sky beyond, dark and endless and free.

Wide enough to fit through.

The thought ca slowly, filtered through layers of pain and exhaustion, but once it settled it wouldn’t leave. I could end this. End the burning, the violation, the constant agony of having soone else’s claws embedded in my soul. One step. One choice.

And it would all stop.

My arms trembled as I pushed myself upright, expecting resistance—chains, bindings, sothing to hold in place. But there was nothing. The deltas hadn’t restrained . Why would they? I was dying anyway. What was the point of chains when the brand would kill just as effectively?

I was free.

The realization should have brought relief. Hope, maybe. Instead, it just made the path clearer.

Each step toward the window felt like walking through fire. The brand pulsed with every movent, sending fresh waves of agony radiating through my body. My legs shook, barely supporting my weight. But I kept moving. One foot. Then another. Then another.

The window grew closer. The night air stronger. I could hear sounds from outside now—howling, growling, the restless movents of creatures keeping vigil. For . Because they felt my pain like it was their own.

They always did that when I was in pain; they gathered round and cried with .

They would soon be free of .

I recognized so of the voices. The wolves. The bears. All of them waiting, suffering alongside because so twisted part of my nature connected us in ways I didn’t understand.

I’m sorry, I thought, though I didn’t know if they could hear . I’m so sorry. But I can’t do this anymore.

My hands gripped the windowsill, cold stone rough beneath my palms. The brand scalded again—hotter, more vicious, like the High Alpha sensed what I was planning and wanted to remind one last ti that I belonged to him.

But not for much longer.

I looked down. The ground was so far below. Too far. The fall would shatter . Break bones, rupture organs, end everything in one terrible impact.

But it would be quick.

Quicker than this. Quicker than burning slowly while a monster pulled my soul apart piece by piece. Quicker than waiting for help that would never co.

The brand burned. My throat was raw from screaming. My body was breaking.

And I was so, so tired.

I closed my eyes and let myself tip forward.

For one perfect mont, there was nothing. No pain. No brand. No violation. Just air and gravity and the promise of an ending.

I waited for the impact. For the thud of my body hitting stone. For the pain to bloom one final ti before fading into nothing. For my last breath to rattle from my broken chest.

But it didn’t co.

Sothing snapped backward—hard, sudden, wrenching my arm so violently I felt my shoulder pop. The montum reversed, and instead of falling I was being pulled, dragged back through the window with force that made my already-screaming body shriek in protest.

My arm felt like it would tear from the socket. The pressure was intense, relentless, like a rope pulled taut with my entire weight hanging from it.

I gasped, confusion cutting through the pain, and forced my eyes open.

Looked up.

And saw him.

Amber eyes. Wide with sothing that looked almost like panic. His face was a mask of desperation cloaked in frustration, jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping beneath his skin. One massive hand wrapped completely around my wrist, his grip bruising as he hauled back from the edge.

Thorne.

He’d co back.

He’d caught .

I smiled up at him—delirious, probably. The pain was making everything hazy, unreal. He couldn’t be real. This had to be another hallucination, another trick my broken mind was playing because it couldn’t accept that no one was coming to save .

"You’re not real," I whispered, my voice barely audible past the rawness in my throat.

His grip tightened.

Then the shadow spilled from behind him, fanning out into the horrifying living tendrils that had picked up before.

And again, they reached for , lashing as they did.

Delirium morphed into quick-spreading horror that filled my veins with ice. In an instant, I felt their phantom grip coil around my waist—shifty but sohow solid.

In one quick motion, my body launched up as I was pulled through the window in one decisive yank and straight into his arms.

My first instinct was to pull away, but his arms stayed ironclad around my quivering form.

Then heat...

I stopped dead as the heat spread. It was not the searing kind of the brand—this was warmth that enveloped like a cloak. The brand’s obdurate hold eased away the more the warmth spread.

"Breathe," his husky whisper sparkled its way over my clammy skin.

That was all the warning I received before his muscled arms ca under my quivering knees and swooped fully into his arms, and I could do nothing but stay still.

The raven on his shoulder quipped, "Took you long enough."

The Hell Hound tensed, his jaw locking, but he did not stop moving.