Chapter 51: Thank you for your time

Far away in the Southern pack, dusk had fallen, and a hot, dry wind swept through the trees.

Ingrid finished spreading out the last of the damp laundry on the line. She emptied the wash buckets beside her, stacked them together and walked back inside her cottage.

She was a hefty, forty-something-year-old woman with deep-set brown eyes that constantly burned with coldness and cruelty.

She was just about to slide the heavy bolt to lock the front door when a violent knock rattled the wood. She froze, her hands hovering mid-air as she instinctively backed away from the threshold.

Reaching for a sharp kitchen knife from the counter, she crept back toward the door.

"Who’s there?" she demanded, flinching sharply when another heavy knock struck the door.

Gripping the handle until her knuckles turned white, she yanked the door open, thrusting the blade forward to shield herself.

But the man standing in the shadows of her porch was someone she never expected to see. She recognized him instantly.

It was Reynold Bennington, the former Alpha of the Bennington pack, whose title had recently been stripped away following a scandal and an attempted murder orchestrated by his daughter.

Ingrid slowly lowered the knife, her bushy brows knitting together in a harsh frown.

"Can I help you?" she muttered, her tone wary with suspicion.

Reynold stood alone in the darkening twilight, a black cloak shielding his entire frame, the hood pulled down far enough to partially obscure his face.

"Good evening to you, Mrs. Storm," he began, taking a deliberate step across the threshold. "Forgive me for calling on you so unexpectedly..."

"I don’t know how you know who I am, but I don’t answer to that name anymore," Ingrid cut him off sharply. "You will address me as Lady Rowan."

Reynold’s gaze trailed past her shoulder, coldly calculating the layout of the small living room before looking back at her.

A thin, deceptive smile touched his lips. "My apologies for the mistake, Lady Rowan. As I said, forgive the unexpected intrusion..."

"What man in his right mind visits a widow at this hour?" she interrupted again in a clipped voice.

Reynold swallowed the venomous retort that surged up his throat. He was unaccustomed to women speaking to him with such blatant disrespect. But now that his title had been stripped away, he no longer possessed the power to subdue her, or anyone else, by force. He had to rely on manipulation.

"I am here for several reasons, Lady Rowan," he said, his voice turning equally stiff. "Reasons that I know will benefit both of us."

Ingrid raked her eyes over his cloaked form, a wary, calculating look flashing across her face.

"Please, invite me in," Reynold added, tilting his head slightly. "This is not a conversation meant for the open air."

Ingrid hesitated for a moment before stepping back. The moment Reynold walked inside, she slammed the door shut, throwing the iron lock into place.

"Take a seat," she ordered, watching his every movement as he cast his cloak aside and lowered himself onto the worn sofa.

Then she flashed the kitchen knife at him. "I warn you, Mr. Bennington. If you make any strange advances toward me, I will not hesitate to gut you where you sit. I am not like other women."

"I can tell," Reynold muttered in a bored tone. "But believe me, Lady Rowan, you are far from the type of woman to catch my fancy. Rest assured, I am here for something entirely different."

The insult stung her pride, but she pushed it aside, lowering herself onto the adjacent armchair while keeping the knife firmly in her lap.

​"Now that we have that settled, what do you want?" she demanded. "What brings you here?"

"Your stepdaughter," Reynold answered smoothly.

Ingrid’s brow furrowed as she sat up straight. "Alyssa? That brat is dead. What do you want with her?"

Reynold suddenly laughed, a dark, humorless chuckle that sent a cold wave of foreboding straight down Ingrid’s spine.

Her scowl deepened as she glared at him. "What is so funny? And how do you even know about her?"

"You have been kept in the dark, Lady Rowan," Reynold said, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. "It is obvious that you do not keep tabs on the media."

"Just get to the point, Mr. Bennington. What information do you have about Alyssa?"

"She is alive," Reynold broke the news, closely watching her face. "She never died. She was found by Alpha King Dorian and rescued."

Ingrid bolted upright from her seat, the color draining from her face until she looked like a ghost. "If this is some twisted joke..."

Without a word, Reynold slid his phone across the coffee table between them.

Ingrid snatched the device up, her fingers trembling as she swiped through high-resolution media leaks of Alyssa. She was draped in a luxurious, royal wedding gown, smiling up at the Alpha King.

The unique red streak at the tip of her hair was completely unmistakable. It really was her. And her wedding was exactly what Melinda and Fabian had gone North to attend.

She dropped the phone back onto the table, her eyes flashing with pure fury as she looked at Reynold. "How is this possible? They told me she was dead!"

"I will not bore you with the details," Reynold continued, pocketing his phone. "But I need your assistance. I need you to tell me everything you know about that girl’s history."

"You cannot just march into my home and make such demands!" Ingrid snapped. "Why do you care about her past?"

"Because, Lady Rowan, it is only a matter of time before the Alpha King pays you a personal visit," Reynold snarled, his voice dropping dangerously. "You had a hand in that girl’s torment, and he will come for you, for everyone who dared to hurt her."

A cold sweat broke out across Ingrid’s neck. She knew the tales of the Alpha King’s brutality, and she knew Alyssa held enough leverage to see her executed a hundred times over.

"Why are you warning me?" she asked, her eyes narrowing. "What do you get out of this?"

"I want to destroy Alpha Dorian for the humiliation he brought upon my house," Reynold lied smoothly, offering the half-truth with practiced ease. "The only way to break a monster like him is to tear away his mate. Once the girl is dead, he will fall apart, and we will both achieve our goals."

In reality, Reynold didn’t care if Dorian slaughtered Ingrid. What he truly craved was the hidden truth about Alyssa. Who she actually was, who her birth parents were, and why her hair carried that strange, unnatural tint.

He had never bought the simple ’wolfless orphan’ cover story. If his instincts were correct, and Alyssa was exactly what he suspected, his own leverage for revenge would be absolute.

Ingrid slowly sank back into her seat. She thought she had rid herself of Alyssa for good three years ago, just like she had quietly handled the girl’s father years before that. She couldn’t fail a second time.

"Fine," she said, lifting her chin coldly. "I will tell you everything about her birth. But on one condition; you keep this between us. There is a reason why I have kept her true identity buried all these years."

A faint, triumphant smile touched Reynold’s lips before it vanished beneath his mask of calm. "It will remain between us."

And for the next hour, the shadows in the cottage lengthened as Ingrid unraveled the dark history of Alyssa’s birth and true lineage, holding nothing back in her panic.

When she finally finished, the room fell into a heavy silence. Reynold sat perfectly still, rendered completely speechless by the sheer magnitude of what he had just learned. He had expected a scandal, but he hadn’t been prepared for a revelation of this scale.

"You must keep this secret, Mr. Bennington," Ingrid repeated fiercely, leaning across the table. "There is a reason I kept her wolf buried all this time. The powers she possesses are violent and chaotic enough to shatter the balance of this entire realm if they ever awaken. Those powers need to die with her."

Reynold slowly rose to his feet, pulling the dark cloak back over his broad shoulders.

"You have my word, Lady Rowan. I will not tell another soul."

He walked toward the front door, with Ingrid following closely behind to unbolt the lock.

"You haven’t told anyone else, have you?" he asked casually, turning around to face her at the threshold.

"You’re the only one who knows," Ingrid replied curtly. "I couldn’t risk telling anyone else."

"Thank you for your time, Lady Rowan," Reynold smiled coldly, and before Ingrid could throw up her hands to defend herself, he snapped her neck with a sickening, violent crack.

Ingrid’s eyes rolled back instantly, her lifeless body dropping heavily to the floorboards like a sack of stones.

Reynold stepped over her corpse without a backward glance, pulled his hood over his face and vanished into the forest.