Alana's POV
I watch as the bodies are dragged away, blood staining the stone beneath their feet. I don't blink. I don't even breathe. The horror of the moment hangs heavy in the air, like a thick, suffocating fog.
They were traitors. Rebels. They deserved what they got, right? That's what the pack tells themselves, what they've been forced to believe under his rule. The Alpha. The man who calls himself that with such cold, calculated authority.
But I know him. Or at least, I used to.
I'm not sure how much of him is still there beneath the mask he wears, the mask of a ruthless, untouchable leader. The mask of a man who has killed without hesitation, without remorse. I used to think he was cold, distant, unreachable. I thought he was all strength, all power, wrapped in a deadly package. And for the most part, I still believe that. He doesn't show mercy. Not to the traitors, not to me.
But I also see something else.
