Chapter 129

Theo

The cell door creaked open, its rusty hinges groaning like the bones of an old man.

My body screamed in protest as I pushed myself to my feet, every muscle aching, every bruise a reminder of the last few days. The cold air hit my face as the guards dragged me out, their laughter ringing in my ears.

They’d had their fun, letting me stew in the dark for so long, pushing me to the edge of my patience, but it was over now.

My father was not getting over my apparent ‘rebellious’ actions this time.

I stood up straighter than I felt, keeping my gaze fixed on the ground to avoid meeting anyone's eyes as I pulled my arms from the guards.

At least I was free. That cell was hot box under the ground, the sun blistering each day. I whipped the grim from my forehead. God that sucked. No food, little water. Pretty sure one of the guards let a leak loose on me.

I smelled myself, cringing. Yeah… he did.

The rogue camp buzzed with its usual energy, the sound of crackling fires, clinking metal, and low conversation mixing in with the occasional bark of laughter. I’d never get over this mix of old and new world my dad upheld.

Some of his men with suits in high rises, others here, warriors ready to fight to the death. Two worlds, two faces on one wolf.

I had no clue which I was—just another face in the crowd, roughened, beaten, and bruised—yet still standing. The rogues eyed me like I was something to be mocked, whispers rising in their wake.

“The mighty Theo, the prodigal son,” one of them sneered, slapping his hand on my shoulder hard enough to make me flinch. “You’re a disgrace to your old man, kid. Bet he’s proud, huh?”

Another voice chimed in. “I heard they tortured him. His own father! Poor thing, bet it’s hard to live up to the old man’s legacy.”

They all laughed. I clenched my teeth so tight my jaw ached. I didn’t care what they said. It was all just noise. And then, just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, I saw a commotion of splitting bodies, some cooes and whips of someone or thing approaching.

I hopped onto a box to see over the crowd and my eyes narrowed.

She appeared like a flame in the distance—a burst of color and movement that could not be ignored. A woman, tall and confident, her flaming red hair cascading down her back like a living fire.

Every rogue in the camp froze or parted as she strode forward, the very air around her seeming to burn with her presence. Her steps were bold, unapologetic, and she didn’t flinch under the weight of their gazes. She was used to being looked at, admired, feared even.

I didn’t recognize her immediately, not at first. But then, when she turned her head slightly, I caught a glimpse of her face, sharp and proud—and everything in me stiffened.

Huh. It was her. Sophia. The Alpha’s ex. I had heard the stories. The whispers of her beauty, her temper, her unmatched confidence. She was legendary, and now, here she was, walking straight through the camp as if she owned it.

But she wasn’t alone. There was another figure behind her, a massive hulking shadow of a man that made even the rogues step back. His build was overwhelming—muscles rippling under his skin, but hiswolf ears were flattened back in obvious discomfort, tail swishing.

A half-ling?

He walked with a sort of hesitation that didn’t belong to someone so intimidating. The whispers around the camp swelled in volume.

“Is that Sophia? The one who left Alpha Alexander?”

“Left? Or banished?”

“Who cares, she’s hot!”

“Who’s that with her? Look at him. What’s a half-blood doing with her? Ugh, nasty.”

I froze.

Wait. Missing half-ling.

My mind raced, bouncing back to Abigail’s words.

Lauren’s brother.

Alpha Alexander’s brother-in-law.

This couldn’t be happening.

The towering half-ling was the same Mark that had gone missing all those months ago? My pulse spiked as panic coiled in my stomach. This wasn’t just a coincidence. No, I was staring at Abigail’s uncle. Lauren’s missing brother.

“Crap…” I muttered under my breath. “What a pain…”

The situation had just gone from bad to worse.

Mark didn’t look happy to be here. His eyes darted around, still wide with confusion, his lips parted slightly as though he was trying to piece together where exactly he had ended up. But it wasn’t just the unfamiliar surroundings that unsettled him. It was the way everyone was staring.

Despite his confusion, he followed close behind Sophia, barely a step really.

Like he trusted her.

Sophia’s stride was easy, like she didn’t care that the entire camp had turned its gaze on her. She walked with purpose, and without a single hesitation, she made her way toward the lavish tent at the center of the camp, where the rogue king usually resided.

The rogues in the camp parted like the Red Sea, their eyes still trained on Sophia, her confidence oozing from every movement.

And then it happened. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Sophia didn’t stop at the entrance. She didn’t even flinch when my father looked down at her with interest.

Instead, she turned, facing Mark, and with a snap of her fingers, she ordered him to step into a massive iron cage sitting just outside the tent. The sound of the iron door creaking as it closed was almost deafening in the tense silence that followed.

I blinked, unable to process the sight. Mark didn’t fight her. He didn’t resist. He just walked into the cage like it was an ordinary thing, his expression blank, but the confusion in his eyes was palpable.

“What is she doing?” I murmured under my breath, disbelief rippling through me.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

Sophia entered my father’s tent without a word, her smug smile still plastered on her face.

It was clear she had done exactly what she had set out to do. Her mission was over. But Mark... Mark was left behind.

The rogues in the camp didn’t waste a second, crowding around the cage, prodding at him, sneering, laughing as if he was nothing more than an animal.

Mark sat in the cage with an eerie calmness, his eyes distant, not reacting to the cruel jabs and taunts of the rogue camp. He didn’t even flinch as they poked at him through the bars. His hands rested calmly on his lap, his posture almost serene despite the chaos surrounding him.

I couldn’t help but feel a sick twist of empathy for him. He was being treated like a freak, like some kind of novelty. I mean… he was but no one deserved to be caged.

Then my father’s voice boomed.

“Back off,” his voice sharp and commanding. The crowd hushed instantly, as though his words were a spell, and I saw him hesitating at the shadows of the tent, his eyes narrowing at the rogues gathered around Mark’s cage.

Sophia’s arm on his, her nails in his shoulder.

“Mark’s unstable,” the my father continued, his tone low but heavy with authority. “A loose cannon. Do not provoke him. If you want to keep your hands, I suggest you remember that.”

The rogues backed off, their interest fading as they slowly melted back into the chaos of the camp. But I couldn’t take my eyes off of Mark.

His face had remained oddly calm through the entire ordeal. There was something wrong here, something off about the way he was behaving. Was he... drugged? Brainwashed? Or was there something else going on?

I had to get out of here.

I slipped away from the crowd, unnoticed, as everyone continued to stare at Mark. My mind raced as I ducked behind tents, staying out of sight as I made my way toward the edge of the camp.

I had to get to Abigail. She needed to know where her uncle was, my father clearly up to something. Mark could be key to this mess, and I couldn’t just sit here, waiting for the storm to hit.