23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

J ackson walked through the trees to the secluded guardhouse behind the training grounds. Dylan and Micah, Cassie's father, followed behind.

"Has he said anything at all?" Dylan asked.

"He's saying many things, but none of them make any sense. And he's..." Micah stopped and sighed. "You'll see for yourselves."

Jax looked back at the warrior with a frown. Micah had been the head warrior when his father had been the Alpha King, so he had seen and dealt with many dangerous and unusual things. What was he about to walk into that had made Micah so agitated?

They walked into the guardhouse, and the warriors on duty were already standing on alert with their gazes lowered. He walked past them to the room at the back, where the hatch on the floor was already open.

He could smell the prisoner from there. He smelled of the earthy scent of his wolf and then the pungent, unbearable scent of death and decay. It was the scent of dark magic. He'd had that scent stuck up his nose for a long time after he'd been cursed, but lately, he'd been catching hints of it again.

Cain stirred, his attention now diverted from the girls to the more significant threat.

"Let me go first," Dylan said.

"No," he growled.

He looked around at the two warriors at the door and then at Dylan and Micah. Dark magic was bad news, and he didn't want any of them near it.

"Get everyone out of the building and then ask Diedre to come."

Both Dylan and Micah stepped back.

"Magic?" Dylan asked.

"Then you can't go down there either, Alpha," Micah said. "He's bound with silver but could be capable of anything."

"I'll be fine. But have Diedre near just in case," he said as he unbuttoned his shirt.

He needed to be able to shift quickly if necessary. He had not heard of any witch and wolf hybrids anywhere in his territories, but that didn't mean it wasn't possible. That outcome would be preferable to a wolf who'd been hexed. A hexed wolf was a danger to everyone if they didn't know what he'd been sent to do.

Micah walked out with the two guards, but Dylan remained.

‘Jax, I don't think you should go down there. Remember what almost happened the last time we dealt with dark witches,' Dylan said in the mind link.

Dylan had always assumed they'd had a lucky escape after that battle that had damned him.

‘You know I'm the only one who can go down there. I'll kill him the moment I sense him using his magic. Don't worry, Dylan, just go and take care of everyone else.'

His bloodline was considered royalty for a reason. He was stronger, faster, bigger... and when it came to witches and their magic, he could sniff it out in seconds. He was the last of his kind, and that was why The Circle had constantly pressured him to produce heirs.

When he was down to his boxers, he looked pointedly at Dylan until his friend sighed and walked out of the room. He waited until he sensed the building was empty before he walked down the steps into the underground prison. The walls had been soundproofed by necessity, so the moment he opened the door at the bottom, he heard the cheery humming of the prisoner. A catchy tune that he'd heard the younger wolves playing before.

The wolf sounded happy even though he could smell his burning flesh from the silver chains.

He closed the door and tried to get a read on the prisoner before he made his presence known. There was no fear, no anxiety, no pain. All he could sense was excitement. The prisoner wanted to be there for whatever reason he had been sent for. This meant the only option was to kill him before he could achieve his goals, but then dead men didn't speak. He needed to get some information out of him first.

The humming stopped abruptly, and the prisoner laughed.

"Is that my king?" he asked. "The king is dead! Long live the king!"

The wolf started to laugh. His voice, as well as his scent beneath the dark magic, were unfamiliar. As the Alpha king of all the Western territories, he'd visited most of the packs at one point or another. This one didn't belong to any of his.

He walked past empty cells until he came to the only occupied one. The walls and bars were silver, and the wolf was hanging in chains in the middle. The silver chains were also wrapped around his naked body, and blood was already seeping from his burns.

It had been a while since he'd had anyone down here. Once upon a time, he'd revelled in causing this pain. He'd taken his anger out on anyone who dared challenge or defy him. Now the sight of it churned his stomach. He wasn't the same man he'd been a year ago. Maybe that was why people thought they could get away with pissing him off now.

The prisoner lifted his head, and his filthy blond locks fell over his face. He had never seen this wolf before but knew that look in his dead blue eyes. His mind had long been broken—this man was nothing but a vessel.

"Hello, Your Majesty. To what do we owe this honour?" the man asked with a chilling grin.

He could tell he was speaking to whoever had control of this wolf. It was possible the man was already dead or would die the moment he was set free. He'd never come across a hex this powerful, and that was worrying. Why now? Why when he was getting ready to leave this world?

"Who are you?" he growled.

He didn't want to be in front of this man longer than necessary.

"I'm you," the man laughed, and then there was a rush of magic in the air so fast that he didn't have a chance to react.

The man's face morphed into a familiar one, one he saw in the mirror every morning. Jackson took a step back and prepared to shift. Everything down to the tattoos was the same. Anyone who could shapeshift was dangerous to every pack, not just his.

"We've run out of time, Your Majesty. Both of us are dead. Tick tock."

And then he laughed as he morphed back to his original body. The prisoner had done it quickly again, making it clear that if he had wanted to use the magic against him, he'd already be dead. He had to make this quick.

"Why did you breach my boundary?" he barked.

"To tell you that there's nothing you can do. On the eve of your next birthday, the blood moon will rise, and the souls you took will claim their vengeance. You shall reap your just rewards, my mighty king," the man laughed.

He took a step back as his blood ran cold. There had been no survivors that night. No witnesses when the witch had cast a spell on him. How did this person know about it?

"And I've brought you a gift," the prisoner continued. "A little bird told me that you believe you have the right to leave your progeny on this earth, a privilege you've denied countless others."

The stupid grin fell from the prisoner's face until only the blank expression remained. Jackson could feel what was happening before the man's lips started moving. The air shifted as the magic rose around him.

Without waiting to think, he ripped the door open, ignoring the silver as it cut into his skin. The man only managed to get a few words out before he clawed his throat out.

"May your seed never flouri—"

As the prisoner began to drown in his blood, his eyes remained eerily vacant as his head rolled to the side. The magic in the air died instantly, but the cold remained in his body.

What the hell was that? Before he'd found Layla, he'd fucked everything that moved wherever he went, but he'd never told anyone except Dylan that he was trying to have a baby. Dylan would never have betrayed him.

Would he? After the incident with Layla that afternoon, he wasn't so sure anymore.

His claws retracted, and blood dripped from his fingers as he stepped backwards out of the poisonous prison cell. The prisoner was dead; there was no pulse or magic, but he needed to be sure. He rushed forward with a growl, his rage morphing as he gripped the man's hair and pulled. He threw the offending appendage to the floor before walking out of the cell.

This changed everything.

Someone was trying to hex his unborn child.

Micah was standing with Dylan, Jon and Diedre in the training fields when he came out of the guardhouse. He could feel their anxiety as they watched him approach.

"Diedre, I'll need the whole place cleansed after someone moves the body," he said.

"Yes, Alpha. I brought my bag."

"Did you get anything out of him?" Dylan asked.

"No," he lied.

He hated that he couldn't trust Dylan anymore. The seed had already been planted in his head, and nothing but the absolute truth would remove it.

"Where did you find him?" he asked Micah.

"He found us. We were looking for his trail northbound down the river when he just walked towards us," Micah answered.

"Did he say anything?"

Had he told them about the curse?

"He was off his head," Micah said. "He kept saying that he was the king and then singing. We had to gag him on the way back. When we started questioning him in the cell, he kept repeating something about a blood moon. He smelled like a rogue, but I can't be sure."

Most likely a rogue. They were easier to target for something like this. Hopefully, whatever he'd said would remain the ramblings of an insane wolf.

He would have to retrace the wolf's steps to figure out what had happened. Maybe there was a clue in the forest.

But until he got to the bottom of this, he needed to keep Layla closer to him.

"Reinforce the security. I don't want another breach," he said as she started to walk back to the house.

But he knew there would be. Someone knew he was dying, and they wanted to make sure his bloodline died with him. Layla was already in danger.