Chapter Six — The Alpha King

Keya:

The rhythmic thud of boots is replaced by something worse — the growl of engines.

Lina stiffens, her fingers tightening on my wrist. Through the trees, headlights sweep in wide arcs, cutting through the darkness. Sleek black SUVs roll into the clearing, tires grinding over roots and dirt. Doors slam in unison, and a dozen men step out in tactical armor, rifles slung across their backs.

On their chests: a crimson hound’s head, jaws open in a snarl.

“Blood Hound Pack,” Lina whispers, the words tasting like fear.

The stranger mutters something under his breath — sharp, foreign.

A tall man with a scar down his cheek steps forward, torchlight from the vehicles glinting off the black steel of his vest. “Weapons down. Hands where I can see them. By order of Alpha DiCaprio Mighty, trespassers will be taken alive… for now.”

We’re surrounded in seconds. Metal cuffs bite into my wrists before I can think to fight. The stranger’s eyes meet mine briefly — warning me not to do anything stupid — before they shove us toward the nearest SUV.

The city lights are a smear of gold and silver through tinted windows. We weave through streets I don’t recognize, past neon signs, rooftop gardens, and high-rise towers that gleam like steel fangs.

When we finally stop, it’s in front of a building that could pass for a corporate headquarters — if corporate HQs came with fortified gates, armed guards, and snipers on the roof. The Blood Hound emblem is etched into the glass above the revolving doors.

Inside, the air smells faintly of leather and expensive cologne. The lobby is marble and chrome, all sharp edges and muted light. An elevator takes us up to the top floor, opening into a space that’s part luxury penthouse, part war room. Floor-to-ceiling windows look out over the city.

And in the center of it all, behind a sleek black desk, sits Alpha DiCaprio Mighty.

Dark hair, sharp jawline, eyes like cold steel. He doesn’t look up right away, finishing something on the tablet in his hand before glancing at us.

“These are the intruders?” His voice is smooth, low, threaded with command.

“Yes, Alpha,” Scar-Cheek says. “They claim Lake View Pack.”

DiCaprio’s gaze drags over each of us in turn — the stranger, Lina, then me. “Lake View? You don’t look like anyone worth remembering.”

I swallow hard. This is it — the moment I convince him to let us go. “Alpha Mighty, if you’ll just let us explain—”

And then my voice dies.

Because I see him.

I see him.

The same tilt of his head, the same mouth, the same way his shoulders roll when he leans back in his chair. It’s him.

From the footage.

The footage that ruined my life.

“You!” The word rips out of me before I can stop it. “It’s you!”

His eyes sharpen. “Excuse me?”

“You’re the man in the video,” I spit. “The one who—who assaulted me! You’re the reason I was rejected, the reason I was banished!”

The room stills. Even Lina’s breath catches.

DiCaprio’s gaze cools to ice. “Interesting accusation. Especially since I was the one assaulted that night.”

My laugh is bitter. “Liar.”

His jaw flexes once. “I was drugged. My drink spiked. I woke with you on top of me.”

“I don’t remember that night at all,” I snap. “All I know is what I saw on that screen — you in my bed, and my mate throwing me to the ground in front of everyone.”

“And all I know,” he says evenly, “is that you’re trespassing in my territory, making wild accusations without proof.”

He turns to Scar-Cheek — his Beta, I realize — and says, “Find out exactly who she is, and what the hell Lake View is doing sending trouble to my borders.”

The Beta nods once and leaves the room.

DiCaprio leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers. “Until I have answers, you stay here. Under guard. If you try to run, I’ll assume you’re rogues and treat you accordingly.”

My pulse hammers. “You’re making a mistake.”

His mouth curves faintly. “I doubt it.”

DiCaprio’s gaze lingers on me for a beat too long before he turns his attention to Scar-Cheek.

“Run the check. Names, affiliations, every detail you can scrape up. I want to know if they’re who they say they are — or if they’ve been fed a story to feed me.”

Scar-Cheek nods once and slips out, tablet already in hand.

DiCaprio leans back in his chair, eyes cutting back to us. “Until I have answers, you’re not walking free in my territory.”

He gestures to the guards at the door. “Put them in a secure room. Not the cells — I want them comfortable enough to talk, but not stupid enough to try anything.”

One of the guards smirks faintly. “Understood, Alpha.”

The command in his tone leaves no room for argument.

A moment later, cold hands close around my arms, steering me toward the elevator. I catch one last look at DiCaprio before the doors shut — the faintest hint of a smirk playing on his lips, like he already knows we’ll try something… and fail.

_

The elevator ride down is silent except for the soft hum of its motors.

Two guards flank us, rifles across their chests, eyes hidden behind black-tinted visors.

When the doors open, they march us down a wide hallway lined with doors — all steel, all with reinforced keypads. At the far end, they usher us into a room that could pass for a luxury hotel suite… if not for the security cameras tucked into the corners and the faint electric buzz from the lock when the door closes behind us.

Lina stalks to the window first, her hands pressed against the glass. “Shatterproof,” she mutters. “Of course.”

I sink onto the edge of the bed, glaring at the stranger. “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I keep calling you mystery knife guy?”

He doesn’t look up from pacing the room. “Names make people easier to find.”

“And?” I lean forward. “We’re already locked in a building full of people who want to kill us. The Alpha King thinks we’re liars. What exactly are you protecting yourself from?”

His pacing stops. He glances at Lina, then back at me. “Jarek.”

I blink. “Jarek.”

“Don’t wear it out.” He moves to the window beside Lina, scanning the night beyond the glass. “Third floor. Balcony ledge runs all the way across. Cameras at both ends, but there’s a gap in the middle.”

Lina catches on quick. “You’re thinking we can get to the fire escape?”

He nods. “If we’re quiet.”

I’m on my feet before he’s done talking. “Then let’s move.”

The cold night air hits my face the second Jarek forces the window latch. We slip out onto the narrow ledge, pressed tight to the building’s steel and glass. My heart hammers as I inch along, the drop below more than enough to break bones.

We’re halfway to the gap in the cameras when Lina’s foot slips. She catches herself with a muffled curse, but the sound’s enough — somewhere below, a guard shouts.

“Go!” Jarek hisses.

We make it to the fire escape and drop onto the metal platform. From there, it’s a quick climb down — too quick. My feet hit the pavement and—

I freeze.

Five guards stand in a half-circle, weapons raised, blocking the alley. Their armor gleams under the floodlights, crimson hound emblems glaring back at us.

Jarek’s hand goes to his knife, but I grab his wrist. “Don’t.”

Before anyone can move, a slow clap echoes down the alley.

DiCaprio steps into the light, his tailored black suit immaculate, not a hair out of place. His gaze sweeps over us once, and I can see it in his eyes — he knows exactly what we were trying to do.

“You’ve been here less than an hour,” he says, voice smooth as glass, “and already you’ve decided to test my patience.”

No one answers. The only sound is the hum of the floodlights.

I swallow hard. He takes a step closer.

“Do you know what happens,” he continues, “to people who break into my territory and then try to run?”

Judging by the cold finality in his tone, I do know — and it’s not good.

Then a voice cuts through the tension.

“Alpha.”

Scar-Cheek strides into view, a tablet in his hand. “The background check is complete. They’re telling the truth.”

DiCaprio’s gaze flicks to him. “Explain.”

Scar-Cheek nods toward me. “Keya Carson. Banished heir of Lake View pack — after the scandalous footage at her mate ball. Lina, former maid in her service.” He glances at Jarek, then shakes his head. “Him… I don’t know.”

DiCaprio’s eyes return to mine, unreadable. “Interesting.”

For a long moment, we just stand there, the cold night pressing in.

Then he turns to his guards. “Bring them back inside.”