Chapter 125

Theo

I expected Owen to be mad, but that… well that outburst wasn’t the soft spoken, snarky kid I knew.

Bummer.

I drove out the sound as I stomped back into the Rogue camp—the laughs, or fewer shrill shout. Everything was exactly the same: a chaotic mess of gold-lined tents, log shelters, and angry wolves barking orders like they knew what they were doing.

Spoiler: they didn’t.

They’d forgotten how to be a pack. Now they were a gang—barbaric and disorganized, a weird mix of luxury and savagery. I half expected a fight over a stray piece of meat, while others walked by in suits.

I marched straight through the crowd, ignoring the pointed glares. They could all go to hell. My focus was on my father, the so-called Rogue King, GrimMaw, who was probably wondering where I’d been. I braced myself for another lecture or maybe a black eye.

I found him in his gold lined tent, hunched over a map, scribbling furiously. He didn’t even look up when he spoke.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” he said, his voice dripping with superiority.

I didn’t answer. I just stood there, hands in my pockets, staring at the back of his head. A part of me wanted to leave, forget all of this, but that wasn’t an option anymore. Nothing was.

“How was your little trip,” he said, turning his chair around with a slow creak. “I knew you’d be sneaking out to see her again. But don’t worry, I’m not stupid. I’ve been letting it happen.”

I shifted my weight, hiding the drop in my heart. Her.

I had expect he knew I was sneaking out, but I was careful not to be trailed. How could he have known…

My eyes narrowed. “Letting me? You mean you’ve been watching me?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Of course. You’re not the only one with a few tricks up their sleeve. I’ve been keeping an eye on your little rendezvous with that girl. She might be useful to us, or at least useful to you. I’ll give you that. You’ve done well.”

I kept my face blank. My blood was already boiling, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He didn’t buy it. Hell, he barely even blinked. “Oh, really? That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

“Yeah,” I snapped, all the defiance I could muster crashing through my words. “It’s the truth.”

My father leaned forward, his smile almost too wide. His teeth gleamed under the lamplight, and I hated how much he looked like a predator. One without rules. “You can tell me all the lies you want, Theo. But you know what? I’ve been letting you play your little games. But you will be useful to me sooner or later. And if you think I don’t know you’ve been sharing information with her, you’re wrong.”

I swallowed hard, the words sitting heavy in my chest. I wasn’t dumb. I knew what he was implying. He’d been letting me sneak off to see Abigail not because he trusted me, but because he saw some kind of advantage in it. The whole damn thing was about leverage. And I hated it. But I guess it was nothing new.

“I’m not telling you anything,” I growled, stepping back as if I could distance myself from him physically. It didn’t work, of course.

Father stood up then, the chair scraping loudly against the ground. “You will. I’ll make sure of it.”

He moved fast—too fast—and before I knew it, his hand was across my face. The slap was sharp, hard, and it echoed in the silent tent like a gunshot. My head snapped to the side, but I didn’t say a word. I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurt.

“Don’t be useless, Theo. Don’t make me punish you for nothing,” he sneered, looking down at me like I was some kind of worm he was about to squash under his boot.

I wiped the blood off my lip with the back of my hand, my teeth grinding. “I’m not telling you anything, old man. I’m not your damn messenger.”

His eyes burned with cold fury, and I could feel the tension in the air thickening, wrapping around my throat.

“You’ll tell me, whether you like it or not,” he said, his voice a low hiss. “And if you don’t, I’ll just have to make sure you do.”

He grabbed my arm, twisting it behind my back with a speed that left me breathless. Pain shot through my shoulder, and I gasped, trying to jerk away, but his grip was like iron.

“I don’t take kindly to disobedience, Theo. You’re wasting my time. Our time,” he said, his voice rising with every word. “You’ve been useless long enough.”

I clenched my teeth, refusing to cry out. “You’re nothing but a damn fool,” I spat. “You’re a traitor to the pack. A murderer who can’t even lead properly. You and your ragtag group of degenerates don’t know anything about loyalty, honor, or how to actually run a pack.”

The words had barely left my mouth when he slammed me into the ground. Pain exploded in my ribs, and I gritted my teeth to keep from yelling. I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

“My, my. What cute little rebellion you’ve found. Good thing I thrive with rebels. You’ll learn, Theo,” he said softly, kneeling down beside me. “You’ll learn that loyalty comes with a price, not honnor. I don’t give a damn about your morals or your pathetic ideals. You’ll be useful, one way or another.”

I tried to push myself up, but my legs wouldn’t obey me. The pain was too much, my muscles too stiff.

“Tell me what you know. Anything, one small thing and I’ll let you breath again.” My father’s voice was sweet now, like he was trying to coax a secret out of a frightened child.

I hesitated, my breath shallow, my mind racing. I knew what was coming. There was no way out of this. If I gave him something—anything—he’d use it, twist it, turn it into a weapon against Abigail. But if I didn’t—he’d hurt me more.

His knee dug into my back, and I realized, with a suffocating lurch in my chest, that I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was drowning, suffocating under the weight of his body pressing me into the dirt. My lungs burned, and every breath felt like it was being stolen from me, like I was suffocating on my own desperation.

I gasped for air, struggling to draw a breath, but it was no use. His knee pressed harder, grinding into my spine, cutting off any chance of relief.

“Still so defiant,” his voice was dark and quiet, the tone almost affectionate in its cruelty. “You think you’re stronger than me, don’t you, Theo?”

I coughed, my body trembling as I tried to speak, but nothing came out except a strangled gasp. The more I struggled, the tighter his grip on my neck became.

“Please,” I choked out, but it wasn’t a plea for mercy. It was a cry for air.

A cruel chuckle escaped his lips, and his hand shot forward, yanking a fistful of my hair and jerking my head back so hard it felt like my neck was snapping. The world spun, and the pain in my scalp was sharp.

“You think you can outlast me?” His voice was low, too calm, a twisted amusement in his words. "Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make it stop."

The pressure on my back was unbearable, the air too thick to breathe, and I could feel myself starting to break.

I fought to hold onto my resolve. No. I couldn’t betray Abigail like that. Not when I could still protect her.

My voice cracked as I managed to rasp, “I don’t know anything.”

I could feel the weight of the lie slipping from my mouth, but it was all I had left. I couldn’t tell him about Abigail, about Mark, about anything. Not even under this kind of pain.

Without warning, my father struck me again, his fist slamming into my side with sickening force. The air in my lungs was knocked out of me, and the pain exploded in my ribs, sharp and jagged.

“Don’t lie to me,” he snarled, voice low, dangerous. “Tell me what you know.”

I gasped for breath, my chest heaving, my vision spinning. "I... I don’t know anything..." My body shook, but I held on. “We talked about—Agh! Video games! Cartoons! Dad! Stop!”

He was growing impatient. His hand twisted in my hair, pulling harder. My mind was scrambling, my breath coming in ragged bursts.

Before I could process it, he had pulled my arm behind my back and with a sickening pop I felt a nauseating pain from my finger.

I screamed, but his boot pressed my scream to the ground.

“Shhh, tell me… or I’ll pop another.”

With my finger in his twisting coil, the words slipped out like a pray I didn’y want to make before I could stop it.

“Mark’s missing,” I managed to whisper, my throat raw. “Lauren’s brother, some half-ling. They’re looking for him, but I don’t know where he is. That’s all I know.”

My father paused, and for a moment, there was silence. A tense, electric moment.

“Interesting,” he said, voice dripping with malice. “Let’s see who finds him first.”