Chapter Four: Fury in the Shadows

8:00 PM came around soon enough, the day slipping away in a blur of sweat and steel. I'd spent the afternoon rigging traps in the forest, my hands still raw from the wire, my jaw tender from Cade's punch. Now, standing in the forest clearing behind the pack house, I decided to meet this note-leaver head-on. The air was thick with pine and the faint musk of damp earth, the moon a sliver overhead casting jagged shadows. I'd been waiting maybe five minutes, boots sinking into the soft ground, when I heard footsteps—light, deliberate, crunching over fallen twigs.

What didn't surprise me was that it was a woman. I could tell by the rhythm of her walk, the subtle sway in her step. I'd had a few secret meetups like this before—women I'd hooked up with, agreements to keep it quiet, no strings. My gut told me this was different, though. The air felt heavier, tinged with something sour.

She approached slowly, a silhouette against the trees. "So, why'd you want me to meet you here?" I called into the shadows, my voice rougher than I meant it. As good as my sight was, human form dulled it in the dark, and her face stayed hidden. She didn't answer. "Well?" I pressed, impatience creeping in.

The figure stepped closer, her outline sharpening under a stray beam of moonlight. When her face came into view, my stomach twisted—Diana. I'd known her a while back, a fling that fizzled out months ago. She stopped a meter away, head bowed, her dark hair curtaining her face. I tried to catch her eyes, but she turned aside, avoiding me.

Then it hit me—that smell. Blood, sharp and metallic, faint but unmistakable. "Diana?" I said, softer now, unease prickling my spine. I reached out, sliding a hand under her chin to lift her face. She resisted, jerking back, but I held firm, gentle but insistent. She relented, and as her features tilted into view, rage flared hot in my chest. "Who did this to you?" I growled, my voice low and menacing, barely containing the storm building inside.

Her face was a mess—bruises blooming purple across her cheekbones, a cut splitting her lower lip, another gash above her eyebrow. They were healing, wolf-fast, but fresh enough to have happened today. Her brown eyes glistened, tears carving tracks through the grime on her cheeks.

I didn't think—just pulled her into a hug, my arms wrapping tight around her trembling frame. My heart cracked at her sobs, muffled against my chest. "I'll kill him, Diana," I snarled, the words slipping out before I could stop them. She shook her head against me, a frantic little motion, and I eased her back to arm's length, searching her face. "Tell me who did this. Please?" I begged, my eyes boring into hers, hunting for answers in the storm of fear and pain I saw there.

Her sobs quieted, hitching into shaky breaths. "I...I didn't know who else to go to. You're the only one I trust," she whispered, voice breaking as she lunged forward to hug me again. "He's been so awful—I thought he loved me." Her cries grew louder, words dissolving into a wail that tore at me.

I needed a name. My rage was a live thing now, clawing at my ribs, begging for release. "Please, tell me who," I said, my voice tight, barely holding it together.

Her grip loosened, and she pulled back, meeting my gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "It was Shane," she murmured, and that was all it took. I spun on my heel, storming toward the pack house, Diana trailing close behind. Shane—I knew him, a wiry guy with a mean streak, always smirking like he owned the place. I'd never liked him, sensed something off, but this? This was a death sentence.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice trembling as she hurried to keep up, nearly running to match my strides. "Don't kill him," she added, a desperate plea. I couldn't promise her that. The fog of fury clouded my mind, every step fuelling the need to smash Shane into the ground until he couldn't hurt anyone again. Her fear and worry rolled off her in waves, sharp in my nose, but it only stoked the fire.

I reached his room on the second floor, the hallway dim and quiet until my fist pounded the door, loud enough to rattle the frame. "Shane, get out here right now!" I roared, not caring who heard. Doors creaked open around me, faces peeking out—Matt, Lila, a few others—but I ignored them. Diana's hands clutched my arm, her nails digging in.

"Maybe we should leave it?" she whispered, voice small, meant just for me. "People are staring."

I glanced down at her, her bruised face pleading, and my resolve wavered—but before I could answer, the door swung open. Shane stood there, lean and cocky, scowling at me. "What?" he snapped, his tone dripping with attitude.

I didn't know him well, just enough to know he was trouble—always mouthing off, picking fights he could weasel out of. His eyes flicked to Diana's grip on my arm, then traced up to her battered face. His scowl deepened into something uglier. "Oh, this is great," he said, leaning against the doorframe, crossing his arms with a sneer. "I guess she told you the sob story that I hit her? Is that right?"

I didn't move, didn't speak. My fists clenched so tight my knuckles popped, and I knew if I twitched, I'd lose it. His cockiness radiated, a slimy confidence that he'd talk his way out like always.

"I didn't hit her," he said, staring straight into my eyes, daring me to call him a liar. "She fell, smashed her face on the floor, then blamed me." He uncrossed his arms, jabbing a finger at her. "You've been trying to get rid of me, haven't you? Fucking slut!"

That did it. My control snapped like dry timber, and I swung, my fist cracking into his jaw with a satisfying crunch. He staggered, and I grabbed his throat, slamming him against the wall, my fingers tightening. The world shrank to his wide eyes, his gasping breaths—I wanted him gone, erased, unable to touch her or anyone again. My wolf snarled inside, clawing to break free, to finish it.

Hands grabbed me—strong, insistent—yanking me back. I shoved them off, roaring, but more gripped my arms, my shoulders, forcing me down. I hit the floor hard, knees jarring, and looked up to see Cade towering over me, his face a mask of fury. "What the hell is going on, Kyan?" he bellowed, his alpha voice shaking the air.

Shane was on his knees behind him, coughing, clutching his throat. I glared, pissed he was still breathing. Cade snapped his fingers in my face, sharp and loud, dragging me back to reality. "Explain. Now."

I pointed at Diana, huddled in the corner of the hall, arms wrapped around her knees, sobbing quietly. "Look at her face!" I shouted, my voice raw. "We have a no-violence policy, and that scum's beating her!"

Cade's eyes flicked to Diana, narrowing as he took in the bruises, the cuts. He crossed to her, crouching low, his voice dropping to a murmur as he asked questions I couldn't hear over the pounding in my ears. Packmates crowded the hallway now—Matt, Shauna, Electra among them—some whispering, others shaking their heads. I hauled myself up, brushing off the hands still hovering near me, my chest heaving.

Cade returned, his scowl unchanged, arms crossed tight. "We'll hold a trial for Shane tomorrow. Might kick him out of the pack," he said, his tone clipped. "This isn't something we tolerate—but..." He paused, his jaw tightening, anger flashing in his eyes.

"Kyan, I know you're the beta, but this?" He shook his head, exasperation bleeding through. "We can't just slap your wrist for this. What you did was violence too. I get your intentions, but this is for me and the council to handle."

I stared, disbelief churning in my gut. "You can't be serious—"He cut me off, voice hard. "We're not living in caves anymore. You should've come to me, Kyan. That's why we have rules—so people like Shane face trials, get punished properly. You breaking his face? That's a rule broken too, no matter how noble you thought it was."

Two wolves stepped forward from the crowd—big guys, not as big as me, enforcers, their faces grim. My throat tightened; I knew what was coming. "That's why, regrettably, I have to lock you up for the night too," Cade said, his tone heavy with reluctance.

I wanted to fight, to argue, to claw my way out—but it'd only dig me deeper. My shoulders slumped, and I nodded once, letting them lead me away. Diana's quiet sobs echoed behind me, a knife in my chest, but I didn't look back. The enforcers flanked me, their grips firm but not rough, guiding me down the stairs to the basement.

The pack house had a holding cell—nothing fancy, just a reinforced room with iron bars, a cot, and a bucket in the corner. Used for drunks, rule-breakers, or rogues we couldn't kill yet. The door clanged shut behind me, the lock clicking with a finality that made my skin crawl. I paced the small space, boots scuffing the concrete, my mind a tangle of rage and guilt.

Shane's smirk flashed in my head—those lying eyes, that venomous "slut"—and my fists itched to hit something again. But Diana's tears, her broken trust, weighed heavier. I'd wanted to protect her, to make it right, and now I was caged for it. Cade's words stung worse than the punch: We're not living in caves anymore. Maybe he was right—rules kept us from turning feral—but it felt like a leash choking me when I needed to act.

The cell was cold, the air stale with old sweat and rust. I dropped onto the cot, springs creaking under my weight, and rubbed my jaw, still sore from training. Hours dragged by—moonlight crept through a high, barred window, painting stripes on the floor. My wolf paced inside me, restless, snarling at the bars, but I kept it locked down. Losing it now wouldn't help.

Footsteps echoed outside, slow and deliberate. The lock rattled, and the door swung open. Matt stood there, holding a tray—bread, water, a slab of cold chicken. "Cade's orders," he said, holding out the tray. His bruised eye caught the dim light, a reminder of our sparring earlier.

"Thanks," I muttered, taking the tray. My stomach growled, but I wasn't hungry—just pissed.

Matt lingered, leaning against the wall. "You really went off on Shane, huh? Whole pack's talking about it."

"Yeah, well, he deserved it," I growled, tearing a chunk of bread. "You see Diana's face?"

He nodded, grim. "Saw it. Cade's pissed, though—not just at Shane. You know how he is about order."

I snorted, swallowing hard. "Order didn't stop her from getting beat. What's the point of rules if they don't protect us?"

Matt didn't answer right away, just studied me. "Trial's tomorrow. Shane's locked up too—in the other cell. Diana's with the healers now. She'll be okay."

"She better be," I said, voice low. "Or I'll finish what I started, rules or not."

He sighed, pushing off the wall. "Get some sleep, man. Cade'll sort it. You just... don't make it worse." He left, the door clanging shut again, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I finished the food, more out of habit than hunger, and lay back on the cot, staring at the cracked ceiling. The cell felt like a cage within a cage—pack rules, alpha orders, my own damn temper. Shane's trial would decide his fate, but mine? Locked up like this, I wondered if Cade trusted me as beta anymore. My fists clenched, the bruise on my knuckles from Shane's jaw a dull ache. Sleep didn't come easy, but exhaustion eventually pulled me under, the night stretching on in restless silence.