Ruthless Alpha, and his Curvy Saint-Chapter 74

Alpha Terrell’s POV

I didn’t wait for anyone.

I was through Bellick’s door before the kitchen girl had even finished speaking, moving at the kind of speed that had nothing to do with my title or dignity and everything to do with the cold, terror that had replaced my heartbeat.

Behind me I heard Bellick say something to Gareth and Kade, heard the kitchen girl let out a small sound of alarm as I blew past her running.

I ran through the castle gates, the courtyard, the east corridor - I covered the distance in a fraction of the time it should have taken, my body doing what it had been built to do, muscles and instinct overriding everything else.

Her door was open.

Not ajar. Open. The way a door looks when someone left in a hurry.

I went in anyway.

"Angel."

Nothing.

I crossed the room in long strides and checked the bathing chamber - empty. I checked behind the curtains, checked the balcony, got on one knee and checked beneath the bed frame like some desperate fool, and found nothing but shadow and the faint rustle of dust.

She was gone.

But I could still feel her. Still smell her. Vanilla and something sweet, like warm cookies just out of an oven, with that undercurrent of wildflowers that had been driving me out of my mind since the moment I first met her. It hung in the air like something she’d left behind on purpose to torture me.

Even her scent felt like an accusation.

It was fading.

I stood in the center of the empty room with my hands at my sides and I let myself feel it for exactly five seconds - the particular horror of a man who has finally reached out for something and watched it vanish in the space between his fingers - and then I shut it down and walked out.

By the time I reached the main hall, my generals had caught up with me. Guards were already assembling - word travels fast in this castle - and they lined the throne room walls with rapt attention.

I looked at all of them.

"The Luna is missing." My voice carried the way it always did in large spaces - not because I raised it, but because I didn’t have to. "You will search this castle room by room. You will search the grounds, the stables, the perimeter wall. You will search the village - every street, every alley, every building if you have to." I paused. "You will not stop. You will not rest. You will not return to me without her. Do you understand?"

The sound of hundred fists striking their chests in unison was the only answer I needed.

They dispersed quickly, flooding out of every exit.

"Kade." I caught him before he could follow. "Take the east road. She won’t know the village well enough to go deep - she’ll follow the most obvious path out."

He nodded once and was gone.

"Gareth..."

"The treeline," he said, already moving. "I know."

I turned to give Bellick his orders and found Merrick standing in the corridor archway instead.

He was dressed impeccably, as always - not a single thing out of place, his expression doing that particular thing it did when he played calm over something that wasn’t calm at all. He watched the last of the guards stream past him with mild, observational eyes.

Then he looked at me.

"So," he said. "You finally found the courage to tell her."

I said nothing.

"I’m guessing it didn’t go well."

I turned away from him and he made a sound that wasn’t quite a laugh - more the exhalation of a man who had expected exactly this outcome and found no pleasure in being right.

"Terrell." His voice dropped. "She’s fragile."

"She is not fragile." The words came out sharper than I intended. Because of all the things Angel was - all the things I had watched her be over these weeks - fragile was not one of them. Wounded, yes. Furious, absolutely. But not fragile.

Merrick looked at me for a long moment. Then he simply turned and walked away down the corridor, his hands clasped behind his back, and I had the distinct and infuriating sense that he knew something I didn’t.

I was going to find her.

Every house in the village if I had to. Every road. Every shadow.

She was somewhere out there alone, in the cold rain - trembling, afraid, running from me - and the thought of it did something to my chest that had no name in any language I spoke.

I moved toward the gates.

I am coming, Angel. Whether you want me to or not.

*****

Angel’s POV

My lungs were burning.

I had never been a particularly athletic person, considering my heavy weight. But lately, I’ve found myself always running. Always being hurt and betrayed.

"Lyra..." I gasped, catching myself on a wall as we rounded a corner. "Lyra... I need... just... just one second..."

"We don’t have a second," she said, but she slowed, scanning the street behind us with sharp eyes.

I pressed my hand to my ribs and tried to remember how breathing worked.

I had found her in the corridor by accident. I had grabbed a cloak and left my room, moving blindly with tears and rage - with no plan, no direction, just the burning need to put distance between myself and that room, that man, that look on his face when he had touched his own crest and let me see the truth. I had rounded a corner with tears half-blinding me and walked directly into Lyra’s path.

She had grabbed my arms to steady me.

"Angel. What happened?"

I had looked at her, and something about the concern on her face had made the words impossible. My mouth had opened and nothing had come out except a sound that embarrassed me.

"I can’t," I had managed finally. "I can’t explain right now. I just... I need to leave, Lyra. I need to get out of this castle."

She had studied my face, then grabbed my hand. "Come on."

That had been - I didn’t know how long ago. Long enough for my feet to be screaming and my lungs to be protesting.

"Do you even know where we’re going?" I asked between breaths, pushing off the wall and falling back into step behind her.

"Yes." She kept moving. Her eyes were constantly scanning the environment, never resting. "There’s a place outside the village. An old livestock shelter. I noticed it on our way here. We’ll be safer there for the meantime."

We ducked into a narrow passage between two buildings as a pair of guards crossed the main road ahead - voices low and dishing out orders . My heart seized. I pressed flat against the cold stone beside Lyra, who had gone completely motionless, barely even breathing.

I, meanwhile, sounded like I was breathing for three people.

Lyra put her hand over my mouth.

I did not take that personally.

We waited.

The guards moved on. Their voices faded.

Lyra lowered her hand and gave me a look that communicated volumes without a single word. We need to be quieter. You need to be quieter. Specifically.

"Sorry," I mouthed.

She was already moving again.

"Can they smell us?" I whispered, pulling my cloak tighter. "The Alpha’s men - can they track us by scent?"

"Yes," Lyra said.

"That’s - that’s terrifying."

"Yes."

"Is there anything we can do about it?"

She considered. "The rain helps. It disrupts the trail. But he’ll have sent his best trackers and they don’t need much." She pulled me sideways into another alley. "That’s why we need to move faster than they expect. They’ll assume you don’t know the village, that you’ll move cautiously. So we don’t move cautiously."

We reached the eastern wall as the rain picked up again, a cold insistent drizzle that plastered my hair to my face and turned the ground to dark mud. The wall was high - solid stone, built for defense, built to keep dangers out.

"There." Lyra pointed to a section where a maintenance gate sat recessed into the stone, half-hidden behind a sprawl of ivy. She produced something small from her sleeve - a pin, or a pick, I couldn’t tell - and crouched at the lock.

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

She didn’t look up. "I’ve always had it."

The lock gave. The gate swung inward with a loud sound.

Lyra stood aside and looked at me. "After you."

I went.

The world outside the wall was empty and lonely, the roads looking so scary and endless.

I hesitated.

The last time I’d tried to run away from that monster, I’d ended up behind a slave trader’s cart.

"Lyra," I said, my voice trembling. "What if there are slavers? The roads outside the village..."

"Slave traders don’t operate within two miles of an Alpha’s territory. Especially if that Alpha is Terrell." She shut the gate behind us and tested it. "They have a survival instinct. Not a strong one, but enough." She met my eyes. "We’d be careful, I promise."