Brute 249

William’s POV 

He did not know what had been going on outside the dungeon, but he knew one thing the moment the fron door slammed behind him. 

Many of his men had been hauled down here too, shoved through corridors like livestock and thrown into cells like they were already condemned. 

William lay on the cold stone where they had dropped him, his legs twisted at a strange angle because his ankles refused to support even the smallest shift. The cuts Grace made were not deep enough to look impressive, but the pain they caused felt like it had teeth. Every time he tried to move, it burned up his calves and exploded behind his knees as if the muscles were tearing again and again. 

His body should have started repairing it. 

It did not. 

That fact unsettled him more than the pain. 

At first he thought it was shock, that the adrenaline and blood loss were confusing his senses, but after enough minutes passed with no change, the truth became impossible to ignore. The wounds stayed open. The torn flesh stayed tender. The damage stayed locked in place like it had been sealed there. 

Someone had used something. 

A poison, a powder, something rubbed into the blade or smeared onto the rope after, something meant to stop healing. 

The realization made his throat tighten. Nightfall wolves healed slower than northern beasts, but they healed. That was the rule of their bodies, the rule of their blood. 

This was not normal. 

William gritted his teeth and tried to pull his legs closer, trying to ease the pressure, trying to find a position that did not make him see spots. His ankle screamed the moment it shifted, and a sharp grunt tore out of him before he could swallow it down. His fingers dug into the stone as he forced himself to breathe through it, forehead damp, jaw clenched so hard it 

ached. 

Somewhere down the corridor, a man’s voice carried through the damp air. 

“Beta,” the voice called carefully. “Are you alright?” 

William did not answer at first. His pride rose like bile. 

He swallowed, feeling the sting in his throat. 

“I am alive,” William said finally, voice hoarse. “That is more than I can say for the rest of this pack if she gets her way.” 

The man gave a low sound that might have been relief or fear. “They dragged a lot of us down here,” he said. “I thought you were… I thought they killed you.” 

William forced his arms under him and tried again. His shoulders shook with strain as he shifted his weight, dragging his back across the stone and scraping his elbows raw. His ankles flared again, and he nearly blacked out from it, but he refused to stop. He refused to lie there like an animal waiting for a blade 

After what felt like forever, he managed to lean against the wall. 

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Chapter 249 

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It was wet. 

The damp sank through his shirt almost instantly, cold clinging to his spine, the stone smelling like mold and old blood. His breath came in short bursts as he tried to settle, and the ache in His ankles pulsed in time with his heartbeat, heavy and 

constant 

He turned his head toward the bars, toward the voice in the opposite cell. The man’s face was hard to see in the low light, but William recognized the shape of him, the posture of a soldier who had been trained to stand straighter than fear. 

“Did you hear anything.” William asked. “Before you were brought here. Did you see what happened.” 

The man hesitated. “I was outside the perimeter,” he said slowly We were fighting Demon Fangs. The Northerners were already engaged. There was shouting. There was blood. Then there was… something like an explosion.” 

William’s eyes narrowed. 

The man continued, voice rough. “I do not know what it was. The ground shook. My ears rang. I remember falling. I remember smoke. After that, nothing. I woke up here.” 

William let out a harsh breath through his nose. Useless. All of it was useless. 

The man’s words gave him one thing. 

An explosion. 

A moment of chaos big enough to knock soldiers unconscious and leave gaps. 

William’s mind worked through it, turning it over and over, searching for a crack. If there was an explosion and his men were fighting above, then why were they down here now? 

His gaze shifted through the bars, following the corridor where faint shadows moved, boots passing now and then, the sound of chains dragging across stone. 

He could smell it. He could hear it. 

More prisoners. 

Not one or two. 

Many. 

His chest tightened. 

Does that mean all of them had been detained? 

His men were not being treated like allies who needed medical attention after battle. They were being treated like a threat that needed to be contained. 

Instead of being healed, they were dragged down into a dungeon like criminals. 

William’s fingers curled against the wet stone. 

How could these people be this ruthless? 

This was not the North. 

This was not their territory where they could butcher and lock up whoever they pleased without immediate consequence. Nightfall had agreements. There were inter–pack laws, old rules written in blood and enforced by the Alpha King’s authority. 

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Chapter 249 

A northern lieutenant was not supposed to walk into another pack’s home, slit the Beta’s tendons, and drag soldiers into cages without trials. A northern soldier was not supposed to turn packhouse into a prison and call it “procedure.” 

William’s jaw tightened as he stared into the darkness. 

Aren’t they scared of the King? 

Where are the laws? 

Why is the Lord of the North allowing this? 

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The questions churned, each one feeding the next, but none of them mattered because the answer was already crawling up his spine like a cold hand. 

It was not about Nightfall’s laws. 

It was not about territory. 

It was not about what the King might think if this turned into a political mess. 

It was about her. 

Atasha. 

The moment the name surfaced, William felt something shift in his chest. Everything had circled back to her again, the wolfless girl they had treated like property, the girl they had starved and ordered around and told themselves was worthless because she had no wolf to defend her pride. 

Now the North had wrapped the entire pack in iron because of her. 

William swallowed, throat tight. It was almost laughable. 

No, it was laughable. 

He could not stop it. 

A low chuckle crawled out of him. Pain stabbed his ankles when his body shook, but he did not stop. He let the laugh build for a few seconds because it was the only thing keeping him from screaming. 

Years. 

He had planned for years. 

He had fed revenge like it was a second heart inside him, beating stronger each time he remembered what the southern packs took from him, each time he remembered the humiliation, the losses. 

And in the end… 

A woman without a wolf was going to ruin it. 

Good thing the Demon Fangs took her. 

Good thing she was gone. 

Even if she ruined years of planning and turned his revenge into ash, she still ended up dead somewhere in a cave, torn apart by monsters. His only regret was not being there to watch it happen, not being able to see the moment her eyes finally realized she was alone. 

He let out another low sound, almost a chuckle again, because imagining it made the tightness in his chest loosen for the 

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Chapter 249 

first time since Grace’s dagger hit Renan. 

“The Beta sounds pleased.” 

The woman’s voice cut through his thoughts. William’s breath stalled. 

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He turned his head too fast. Pain tore through his ankles as his legs jerked uselessly beneath him, but he barely registered it because the air changed the moment that voice spoke. The dungeon seemed to close in, the damp walls pressing closer, the shadows thickening like they were listening. 

She spoke again, closer this time. 

“I have not heard laughter in this place all night,” she said. “It stands out.” 

Footsteps approached, unhurried. The sound echoed once, then stopped just outside his cell. 

“It makes me curious,” she continued. “Would you mind telling me what made you so happy?” 

William swallowed. His pulse hammered so loudly he was sure she could hear it. He forced his head up, forcing his eyes to focus through the low light. 

“You-“The word caught in his throat. 

The torchlight shifted just enough. 

And when he finally saw her face, the rest of the sentence died with the breath in his lungs. 

AD