Bad Love An Alpha’s Regret

It’s been hours since the Enforcers marched me down to the basement of the Council building where they have silver–barred cells they use for rogue wolves, and anyone else either being punished or awaiting punishment at the leisure of the Council.

In the cell across from me is a rogue wolf named Axel Sawyer.

He’s an Alpha who blew in from Texas after reportedly slaughtering a whole bunch of wolves down South, including his own pack if rumors are to be believed. I’d heard the Council were hunting him, but I’d also heard he’d moved on to North Dakota.

That was months ago.

Have the Council been holding him this whole time?

I wonder why, but I’m not going to make conversation with a psychopath who slaughters his own pack, and I obviously have plenty of my own problems to occupy my mind.

Eventually, Samsen comes down and stands outside the bars

to regard me like I’m some new exotic zoo animal.

“Where’s my mate?” I bite out impatiently.

Because they certainly didn’t bring her down to the cells, and I’m worried about what’s happening to her.

Not knowing is making my wolf crazy.

free and wild–is held behind silver bars underground like this, purposefully depriving them of any natural light or air–but the added element of my mate possibly being in danger and not being able to help her is making my wolf harder to

than usual.

chance it’ll make my wolf so crazed, I won’t be able to restrain it anymore–even with all

maybe that’s exactly what the

wolf than a powerful Alpha who is in full

will answer our questions regarding your role in the death of Alpha Tobin Havelock and they will

anything until you tell me where my mate

forward and wrap my hands

wolves, that would create an instant burning reaction. For

this cell won’t

suddenly no longer

at him. “You

cooperate and answer our questions, Alpha Rathborn,

mate.”

that, samsen turns on his heel and

wolf with the power of three Alphas

so much about,” Axel drawls from the other

hallway.

also steps forward and wraps his hands around the silver

skin sizzles a little, but he doesn’t so much as

the Texan wolf who slaughtered his own pack,” I reply in a clipped tone. “Glad