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.

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

than usual.

won’t be able to restrain it anymore–even with all my considerable self–control–and

that’s exactly what the

a rogue wolf than a powerful Alpha who is in full control of himself and

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

you tell me where my

and wrap my hands around

most wolves, that would create an instant burning reaction. For me, it’s barely

reminding Samsen that ultimately this cell

I was suddenly no longer in control of my wolf.

“You really want to find out what happens

and answer our questions, Alpha Rathborn,

mate.”

his heel and marches away.

with the

much about,” Axel drawls from the

hallway.

wraps his hands around

His skin sizzles a little, but he doesn’t

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