Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 99

Betrayed by Blood~

Lydia’s hands trembled as she poured out everything that was in the drawers, knowing some of her books fell over in the process. Her heart hammered against her ribs. The letter was gone.

She couldn’t find it.

She swept everything aside—documents, quills, an old locket—before yanking open another drawer. Papers fluttered to the ground, but the one thing she needed was missing.

The letter from Xander.

She had hidden it well, tucked deep within the folds of her books, but now... now it was nowhere to be found.

Lydia swallowed hard, forcing herself to think. Who could have taken it? No one entered her room without her permission. No one had reason to snoop. Unless—

Martha.

This had to have been what she was searching for in her office. That damn wretch.

Lydia ran her hands through her hair frustratedly, sweat beads forming on her forehead. Not only was the letter dear to her, it absolutely cannot be in the wrong hands. She can’t afford it.

She paced around endlessly, her head going through every single possibility. She paused suddenly, thinking again. If Martha took it, then she only had a day to do it seeing as Lydia left the pack for a day.

Without wasting another second, she grabbed her cloak and rushed out of the room.

The guards stationed outside Cain’s quarters were the same ones who had recovered Martha’s body. They straightened when they saw Lydia approaching, her eyes sharp and demanding.

"You," she said, addressing the older of the two. "When you found Martha’s body, did you recover anything else? A letter—an envelope of some sort?"

The guards exchanged glances before shaking their heads. "No, Beta," the older one answered. "Nothing like that. Only the body."

Lydia’s lips pressed into a thin line. "Are you sure?" She pressed on.

"Yes, Beta."

Her stomach twisted. If they hadn’t taken it... Then where the hell is it? frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

She nodded curtly and turned on her heel, her thoughts racing. Now that she had confirmed the letter wasn’t on Martha. There was only one possibility left. She had to search Martha’s room.

Lydia turned on her heel and walked out, going straight to Martha’s room. She stormed right to the servants’ quarters, ignoring every greeting she was met with.

Lydia stopped outside the brown door and pushed it open, storming into the room. Of course, Martha had chosen the biggest room in the quarters for herself. Lydia rolled her eyes, cursing the woman internally. She didn’t waste any time and started searching through her things. The maids had now gathered outside of Martha’s door, all watching keenly and confused as Lydia thrashed the room upside down.

Lydia threw everything apart, tore it all down, and yet she couldn’t find the letter. Martha truly didn’t have the letter. She stopped, looking around the mess she’d created, panting hard, sweat trickling down the corner of her face.

If Martha didn’t take the letter, then who did?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander adjusted the strap securing his coat over his missing arm as he maneuvered through the dense undergrowth. The deep forest was humid, shadows stretching between the trees. He pushed forward, following the directions he had managed to get from the merchant boy. It’s been four days. Four days of him running, talking, and trying to pry out information from the people before he finally found the merchant boy. He had bought dry stale bread from the boy, listening to the many stories the boy had to tell and slyly, he slipped in the question about the blood root seller. The merchant boy had, of course, been cautious, wary even. He slowly backed away with his tray of bread, shaking his head and telling him in broken english to leave him alone.

Xander was a desperate, frustrated man. He, of course, didn’t allow the boy to slip out of his grasp. He held him down and forced the information out of him. That’s when the boy had cracked. "Ezek," he had whispered, his voice trembling, "but... no one’s supposed to know that name. If you go after him, you’ll regret it."

Xander didn’t care before, and he still didn’t care now.

Now he was deep in the woods, searching for a man called Ezek.

The Blood Root dealer was said to live somewhere past the ravine, hidden away from the main roads. Few knew of him.

The clearing ahead was quiet, too quiet, and as Xander approached a small wooden cabin, the trees had wrapped their pines around the walls, the cabin looked spooky. Xander could hear the faint sounds of movement from within. A soft creak of wood, a rustle, the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. He paused, taking a breath and glancing around.

A chill ran down his spine as he noticed something odd—a faint flicker of movement in the corner of his vision. Someone was watching.

Xander didn’t flinch. He wasn’t here for games.

He knocked on the door, his fingers itching for a weapon that wasn’t there. A long pause followed before the door creaked open.

Standing in the doorway was an older man whose features were nearly hidden by his dark long matted hair that fell past his eyes, but Xander could feel his eyes on him - creepy.

"You’re not from here," the man said, his voice deep and gravelly.

Xander stared at him, his eyebrows furrowed, wondering how the man could tell.

"Can I come in?" Xander asked, and suddenly the man became more defensive, he pulled the door closer to himself and shook his head. "No, you cannot. Whatever it is you seek, you shall not find here." He then leaned closer. "Leave. This part of the forest isn’t safe for wolves." He whispered, his gaze darting back and forth like he was scared of someone? Something?

Xander didn’t have the time to dwell on a clear nut job’s words.

"Well, I guess you’ll have to deal with it," he replied and bodied his way past the door and into the house. Behind him, the man screeched at his insolence, but he didn’t find it in him to give a fuck.

Xander’s gaze flickered around the cabin, his face scrunched in irritation. The man lived like a pig. Dust clung to every surface, and strange, unidentifiable symbols were etched into the walls. The air was thick with the smell of something damp and rotting—old wood, mildew, and something metallic.

Behind him, the man huffed and muttered incoherently, but Xander paid him no mind as he scanned the room.

"You’re a fool to come in here, wolf," the man rasped from behind him, "Not everyone seeks what they think they do."

"Ezek," Xander called, "I’m here for Blood Root. I’ve been told you’re the one who deals with it."

The man’s head snapped up at the mention of the bloodroot, his wild eyes flashing with something like recognition. For a moment, the man was silent, his gaze shifting from Xander to the corners of the room, as if ensuring no one was listening.

Xander didn’t care about his paranoia. He needed to know who bought the poison , and he wasn’t about to leave empty-handed.

"Blood Root," Ezek muttered, his voice shaking. "You don’t know what you’re asking for, wolf. That root... it’s not something to be trifled with. It’s more than just a simple poison. It calls to the darkness in you, makes you do things... things you can’t undo."

Xander narrowed his eyes. "I’m not here for your stories, Ezek. Fifteen days ago, someone purchased bloodroot from you. Who was it?"

The man froze, his orbs shaky, and for a second, he looked like he was deep in thought. Xander tilted his head, carefully assessing the man.

"Fifteen days ago," the man muttered, clearly thinking.

Suddenly his face paled, and he took a shaky step backward, hustling hands trembling. "I cannot tell you that. You need to leave now and stop looking for trouble," he gritted out.

Xander’s eyes flashed red with anger. He took a single stride forward, his hands shot out to grab the man when he heard it. Heavy footsteps running around, A sudden clamor erupted outside, the sharp clash of swords, the bark of men giving orders.

Xander stiffened.

The man’s grin stiffened. His eyes darted to Xander in accusation. "You brought trouble to my doorstep," he hissed out, running his fingers through his matted hair, pulling it while mumbling things. He suddenly stopped and moved toward the door.

But Xander was faster.

He grabbed Ezek by the throat with his one good arm, slamming a hand over his mouth and pulling him back into the corner just as the door burst open.

Two warriors entered first, their weapons drawn. Then— Callum.

Xander’s heart dropped. What was Callum doing? Wasn’t he supposed to be helping him search for the bloodroot seller? Why does he look like he’s hunting for— it dawned on him immediately, but he didn’t have time to dwell on that.

Xander’s breath slowed as he pressed himself further into the dark corner, his grip still tight over Ezek’s mouth. The old man trembled in his grasp, but thankfully, he didn’t make a sound.

Callum’s eyes scanned the room, his expression cold. "We saw him come this way," he muttered to the warriors. "He couldn’t have gone far."

One of the warriors nudged a table, sending a few vials crashing to the ground. The sound made Ezek flinch.

Xander gritted his teeth. If this damn old man made a noise—

Callum took another step , his gaze lingering on the corner where Xander was hidden.

For a brief second, Xander thought Callum would spot him. But then—

"We need to report back to Alpha Cain," Callum said abruptly, turning around, "The Moonlight Festival is tomorrow. We can’t waste more time. Have some men stationed out here in case Xander crosses by again. The rest of us will leave." He announced.

The warriors nodded and followed him out.

Xander remained still until the sound of footsteps faded.

Only then did he release Ezek, who stumbled back, wheezing.

Xander’s eyes narrowed. "Now. Talk."