Chapter 9
[ 1,204 words ]
{Third Person}
Heavy, measured, unhurried footsteps echoed through the corridors of the dungeon, yet carried a weight that made the guards instinctively straighten.
The Alpha Prince had arrived.
The moment he stepped into the lower levels, the atmosphere shifted. Guards stationed along the corridor stiffened, then quickly bowed their heads, stepping aside without being told. None of them dared block his path.
Behind him, Jasper followed silently. Only one man stepped forward towards them; he was the prison guard leader.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing quickly, his voice strained with forced composure. “There is no need for you to come to such a filthy place. Whatever you require, I will have it brought to you—”
Alexander didn’t even spare him a glance. He simply raised a hand slightly and brushed past him as if he were nothing more than an obstacle.
The guard’s words died in his throat. Left with no choice, he turned and followed after them as neither of them explained the purpose of their sudden visit.
Inside the dungeon, Alexander’s cold, detached gaze swept across the rows of cells. Then he stopped.
“Where is the political bride?”
The question dropped heavily, making the guard leader freeze. For a split second, shock flickered across his face, then it was gone. But not before Alexander and Japer saw it.
“Speak!” Alexander commanded.
The guard stuttered, his words stumbling over themselves. “S-She… she is—”
Before he could finish, Jasper stepped forward, and with one swift motion, he forced the guard to his knees.
“Answer properly,” Jasper said coldly.
The guard trembled, then raised a shaking hand and pointed deeper into the dungeon. “There…”
Alexander and Jasper exchanged a glance. Their expressions darkened as they sensed that something was wrong.
“Lead the way!” Jasper ordered.
The guard scrambled to his feet and moved ahead, his steps unsteady. They didn’t have to walk far before the smell reached them, followed by the sight.
Amara hung from the chains, her arms stretched above her, her body barely supported by her own strength. Her head was bowed, strands of hair clinging to her damp skin. Each breath that left her lips was uneven, sharp with pain.
Fresh blood stained her back unmistakably.
The guard with the whip and the other nearby guards immediately dropped to their knees.
“Your Highness!” Their voices shook.
Alexander did not acknowledge them. His eyes were on Amara. They moved slowly over her, taking in the sweat on her skin, the blood at the corner of her lips, and the torn flesh across her back.
Something in his expression sharpened and darkened as the air around him grew cold.
’These fools… They have gone too far.’ Jasper frowned deeply. “Who ordered this?” he demanded.
The prison guard leader, still kneeling, didn’t hesitate this time. “It was Her Majesty,” he said quickly. “We acted under the Queen’s direct command.”
Jasper’s gaze flicked toward Alexander, whose face had gone ashen.
Then, through clenched teeth, Alexander spoke. His voice was too calm. “The Queen orders you to kill an innocent human… a political bride sent to uphold the peace treaty… And you obey?”
The guard leader pressed his forehead to the ground. “I—We would never dare—”
The others trembled violently, not daring to lift their heads.
Just then, Jasper moved swiftly, stepping forward to free Amara from the chains. As soon as the restraints were undone, her body gave way, and she collapsed into his arms with a pained gasp, her body trembling from the strain.
Although she was internally grateful that someone had come to rescue her when all hope was lost.
Jasper steadied her gently, his expression tightening.
Soon, her soft, broken sound reached Alexander. Then, his gaze snapped back to her. And whatever restraint that remained was completely shattered.
“Lift your heads!” Alexander ordered.
The guards obeyed instantly, fear written across their faces.
Right then, Alexander’s eyes settled on the one closest to the whip lying on the floor. His voice dropped.
“Was it you… Who did this to my bride?”
Absolute silence spread through the space as the word ’Bride’ alone sent a wave of terror through the guards.
The Alpha Prince just called the human they had severely beaten, his bride. The implication hit them all at once. Amara was no longer merely a prisoner.
The guard who had whipped Amara froze in shock, his lips trembling. But before he could respond, another guard broke down beside him.
“It wasn’t me! I don’t know anything, Your Highness—please forgive me—”
His voice grew louder, frantic, and repetitive. Annoying.
Alexander’s expression darkened with irritation. The next second, he stepped forward. Without warning, he grasped the man by the neck and twisted. A sharp crack followed, echoing through the space.
The body dropped lifelessly to the floor, and silence ensued.
Alexander released his grip, his voice almost absent as he muttered, “Finally… some quiet.”
The remaining guards trembled violently, their fear now absolute.
In Jasper’s arms, Amara witnessed everything from Alexander—the ease and the lack of hesitation with which he took a life so casually.
Her already fragile state shattered. Her vision blurred, and the world went dark. She collapsed fully, unconscious in Jasper’s hold.
For a brief moment, Alexander’s gaze lingered on her. Although his expression stayed the same, a subtle, almost unnoticeable flicker crossed beneath the cold veneer of his face. Disappearing as quickly as it appeared.
“Take her back,” he said. “Call the physician. I want her wounds treated immediately.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” Without delay, Jasper carefully lifted Amara securely over his shoulder and turned, leaving the dungeon without another word.
Alexander watched them go for a second longer, then he looked away. His gaze returned to the guards, and the air turned cold again.
The prison guard leader swallowed hard before speaking, his voice unsteady. “Y-Your Highness… Ms. Caldwell is not to be removed from the dungeon without the King’s verdict—”
Alexander’s eyes glowed a dangerous, golden gleam. “I would like to see who will stop me,” he said quietly.
Silence crashed over the room. The guards trembled. Not one of them dared to respond. After all, which one of them was ready to die?
Alexander stepped forward slowly as his gaze settled on the guard beside the fallen whip. “You,” he said.
The guard’s body stiffened instantly.
“Take him out and whip him to death. Publicly.” Alexander ordered. “Let everyone see what happens when my bride is touched.” His words fell like a life sentence already carried out.
The guard collapsed forward, shaking violently, his forehead pressed to the ground as he began to beg—but no one moved to help him. Instead, he was seized with both hands and whisked away.
Then, Alexander shifted his attention back to the prison guard leader. The man’s breathing had grown uneven, his posture no longer steady despite still kneeling.
Alexander regarded him for a moment before calmly saying, “Since you are so eager to follow the Queen’s orders and please her… I will gift her your head.”
Almost immediately, the prison guard leader’s body faltered as he lost his balance on his knees.
Shock flooded his face before he quickly forced his head back down, but it was too late.
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