Page 73 of Chased By My Grumpy Alpha
And then, I catch it. Her scent. Not the blood, not the fear, not the pain—but underneath all of that, her true scent. It feels like coming home, like finding the other half of my soul.
Mate, my wolf howls in recognition and desperation. Our mate.
Buried under the scent I became so accustomed to is something else, something more primal. I can only smell wisps of it, tainted with old magic. But it’s enough for me to identify the cause of my wolf’s restlessness.
Astra is my fated mate.
And she’s dying.
The possessive protectiveness I’ve felt for so long crystallizes into an absolute certainty: this woman belongs to me, and I will destroy anyone who harms her.
The first man drops the shackles and tries to run. He makes it two steps before I’m on him, my teeth closing around his throat. The taste of his blood fills my mouth, hot and metallic, but it doesn’t satisfy my wolf. Nothing will satisfy it except all their deaths.
I tear his throat out in one savage motion and drop his body, already turning toward the next target. The second man has pulled out a knife and is brandishing it shakily.
“Stay back!” he shouts, his voice cracking with terror. “I’ll kill you!”
I don’t even slow down. His blade catches me across the shoulder, but I barely feel it. My jaws close around his wrist, and the sound of bones snapping is wet and satisfying. His scream, high and desperate, cuts off when my claws open his chest.
The older man holding the collar is backing toward the window. His rings catch the light as his hands tremble, and I can smell the fear in his sweat, acrid and sharp.
“Please!” he babbles, letting the golden collar fall to the floor with a clatter. “Please don’t kill me! I have money—lots of money! Whatever you want, I can pay you!”
I shift mid-leap, my human form allowing me to grab him by the throat and slam him against the wall.
“You can take her!” he gasps desperately. “Take the girl! She’s yours! I don’t want anything to do with this anymore!”
“She’s not merchandise,” I snarl, my voice barely recognizable with the fury in it. “She’s my mate.”
His eyes widen with understanding and terror. “Mate? No, that’s impossible. She’s latent. She can’t…” He shakes his head before continuing desperately, “This wasn’t my idea! It was all Andrew! He’s the one who planned this, who brought her here! I was just—I was just the buyer! Please, I’ll give you everything I have!”
I don’t let him finish. My hand tightens around his throat, crushing his windpipe slowly. I want him to suffer. I want him to know exactly why he’s dying.
“You were going to take what belongs to me,” I say, my voice a deadly whisper. “You planned to collar her like an animal. To sell her children as pets.”
He tries to speak, but only choking sounds emerge. His face turns purple, his eyes bulging.
I slam his head against the wall once, twice, until I hear the loud pop of his skull fracturing. I let his body drop to the floor and focus my rage on the last man standing.
Andrew has pressed himself into a corner, whimpering and shaking like a coward. His face is white with terror, tears streaming down his cheeks. The sharp scent of urine suddenly fills the air; he has pissed himself in fear.
“Please,” he begs, holding up his hands. “Please, I never meant—She came to me. I didn’t force—”
I don’t let him finish. In one swift motion, I grab his outstretched hand and bend his index finger backward until it snaps. The sound echoes through the room.
His scream is high and desperate, but I press my other hand over his mouth, muffling his agony.
“The only reason you’re still breathing,” I whisper against his ear, my tone ice cold, “is because I want you to suffer before you die.”
I release his mouth and grab his middle finger, applying pressure until I feel the bone start to give.
“No, please—” he gasps, but I break the finger with another satisfying snap.
More screams, more tears streaming down his face.
“This is for every lie you told her,” I continue conversationally, moving to his ring finger. “Every time you made her believe you cared.”
Snap.
