CHAPTER 73: CRUSHED BONES

I hadn’t even caught my breath when the shadows parted just enough to reveal a looming figure standing between me and the man pinned against the wall.

Rion.

The sight of him stole the air from my lungs.

"Forcing a lady," Rion said in the most dangerous tone I’ve heard from him, "is not a practice I approve of."

The man froze, his struggling halting as terror bled into his eyes.

Gone was the arrogance he had shown me minutes ago. His face had blanched, his lips quivered.

He knew exactly who was standing in front of him. Recognition dawned like a noose tightening. The Alpha of Undercity. His Alpha.

Rion smirked faintly, tilting his head as if studying a particularly amusing insect.

Shadows coiled lazily around his boots, alive and waiting.

"And especially not a lady who is living under my roof," he added.

The shadows at the man’s throat tightened, dragging a choked sound from him. His legs kicked uselessly against the invisible bindings, his fingers scraping at the air as if he could tear them off.

Rion took a measured step closer. His voice dropped lower, rich with mock amusement.

"What I can’t quite decide," he mused, "is whether you’re brave... or very, very stupid." His gaze flicked over the man like a blade cutting meat. "Tell me, which is it? No—don’t bother." His smirk widened. "I don’t think I’d like your answer either way."

The man tried to speak, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, but no sound came.

The shadows constricted further, bruising his throat with their grip.

"There’s no need for you to explain yourself," Rion cut in smoothly, almost sweetly.

The smirk faded from his lips, replaced by a stillness so lethal it made my stomach knot. His eyes hardened, the red in them flaring like embers ready to consume.

I felt my pulse spike in terror, even though the wrath wasn’t aimed at me.

"Even if you had only brushed against a strand of her hair," Rion said, his voice soft but thrumming with danger, "Being spared from death is an honor a filthy wretch like you cannot afford."

The room darkened as if the shadows themselves drank the light. The air grew heavier, crushing.

The man’s eyes went wide, and for a moment I swore I saw death itself reflected in them.

Then came the sound.

Bones cracking—sharp, brutal, echoing like snapping branches.

One after another, each louder than the last. His screams never made it past his crushed throat, only gurgling gasps escaped as his body twisted under the relentless pressure.

His arms bent at grotesque angles, his chest caved, his legs splintered as though his bones were nothing but twigs. The shadows tightened with merciless precision, tearing him apart from the inside out.

Rion didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink. His gaze never wavered as he watched the man break, as if this grotesque execution were no different from watching a performance.

His face was carved from stone, utterly devoid of pity, the faintest trace of satisfaction ghosting at the corner of his mouth.

When the final crack echoed through the chamber, the man fell silent. The shadows released him, letting his body crumple in a broken heap on the floor.

The room stank of fear, of death, of crushed bones.

I sat trembling on the bed, my breath coming too fast, my body still burning with unnatural heat.

My vision blurred with tears I hadn’t realized were there.

Rion finally turned toward me.

His shadows slithered back into the floor, vanishing as though they had never been there.

His eyes met mine, burning crimson in the dim light, and though every part of me screamed to recoil, I couldn’t.

His eyes weren’t supposed to bloodred during the day, which meant his wolf’s power was surging.

My muscles refused to obey, my body trembling, fevered, caught in the suffocating haze that dulled my strength.

All I could do was sit there, my heart slamming against my ribs, watching him.

He moved toward me in long, impatient strides.

My breath snagged, expecting the familiar curl of his lips, the smirk that always accompanied his cutting remarks. I braced myself for it, for his mockery, for some cruel reminder of how foolish I had been to stumble into danger.

But the smirk never came.

Instead, his face was carved in utter seriousness, his gaze locked onto mine with an intensity that left me burning.

Before I could find my voice, before I could decide whether to flinch away or beg him for help, his arms slid beneath me. Heat radiated from my own body, clashing with the cool steadiness of his, and for a fleeting second I hated how steady it made me feel.

Before I could speak, the shadows surged again, swallowing us whole.

The broken room dissolved into blackness.

When it cleared, I was in my own chamber at the castle. The familiarity of the stone walls, the faint chill in the air, it should have brought relief.

But all I felt was the unbearable heat still raging through me.

My body sagged against Rion’s chest, my strength gone.

"I feel..." My words cracked, my throat raw, "I don’t feel good. I feel too hot..."

It was the truth. The fire consumed me, clawing through my skin, sinking into my bones.

I couldn’t think straight. I wanted something... I was aching...

He lowered me gently onto my bed, letting me sit upright with trembling legs.

He remained standing, looming in front of me, his expression sharp and assessing.

He then lifted a hand and brushed the back of it across my cheek.

His touch was cool. A relief. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, leaning into it before I realized what I was doing.

When I opened them, his red gaze was narrowed, dark with disapproval. His voice came low, lethal, and yet oddly sweet.

"You careless, wicked thing," he murmured. His thumb brushed along my jaw, firm and cold. "You’ve taken aphrosidiac."