Beneath the Alpha's Moon
Chapter 84: I Blame You

Chapter 84: I Blame You

ADRIAN’S P.O.V.

Before I completely left the forest, I lingered in the shadows, watching the wolf who had given me the best fight I’d had in years. No other wolves had ever come close to challenging me like this. He was different. Enhanced, no doubt, by the witches. I scoffed inwardly. Only a fool would trust witches. My entire existence was born from such a foolish decision. The memory hit me like a whip, and I shook my head to dispel it.

I turned to leave but paused, just for a second longer, as a deep, agonized growl echoed through the forest behind me. Typical. Wolves were so predictable. All brawn and no finesse. I didn’t need to look back to know what was happening. I could hear everything—the angry thud of his paws crushing the earth, the faint tremor in the ground caused by his elemental power, and the sharp, erratic rhythm of his heartbeat. The frustrated growl bubbling in his throat only confirmed it. He was in another fight.

"Pathetic," I muttered under my breath, stepping into the shadows. I vanished like smoke, leaving no trace behind.

The energy of my coven thrummed in the distance, a sharp hum that sliced through the stillness of the night. As I emerged from the trees, Carlos, my third in command, approached me with quiet efficiency.

"Adrian," he murmured, his voice low and steady, "should we continue to Redfield?"

A sharp smile curved my lips as I glanced back at the forest. "Hold your positions," I commanded, my tone calm but absolute. "That wolf has Teresa—and my children. Change of plans. We’re not tracking anymore. We’re following. He’ll lead us straight to her."

"What about Harry and the others?" He asked,

"They will catch up." I simply answered and he nodded in understanding. Just then, I heard a loud howl tear into the air and I smirked.

"It’s time," I announced and my coven immediately moved into action.

Wolves were creatures of habit, their lives dictated by the rhythm of their pack instincts. It was almost laughable how easily he unknowingly led us straight to his territory, his every step betraying the precise location of his pack’s home. I expected more from the legendary vigilance of werewolves—a formidable race known for their acute senses and territorial ferocity. Yet as we reached the borders of their lands, a twinge of disappointment tugged at me.

Their defenses were pitiful, a far cry from the tales of fierce patrols and impenetrable boundaries. The night itself seemed to mock them, drawing long shadows across the forest floor that we, vampires born of darkness, slipped into with ease. The thick canopy of trees above created a veil of darkness, and every step we took was silent, our movements fluid and predatory.

One of my men, Sylas, smirked faintly as he pressed a pale hand to the bark of a nearby tree. His fingers brushed against claw marks—old and faint. "They’re so lax; are we really in werewolf territory?" he whispered, his voice barely audible, but the amusement in his tone was clear.

I nodded, scanning the area. The wolves’ scent markers, normally strong and unmistakable, were weak here, the well known-imposing warning cries of wolve was nothing more than faint echoes in the wind here as well. The rhythmic patrolling footsteps that should have surrounded us were absent, replaced by distant, disorganized shouts and howls that hinted at internal discord.

We glided past the perimeter, our movements like smoke curling through cracks in a door. The wolves’ disarray worked in our favor; their attention was fractured, their cohesion shattered. As I peered through the dense undergrowth, I caught fleeting glimpses of wolves moving erratically in the distance, their heads swiveling as though searching for something—or someone. They barked orders at one another, their frustration evident in the sharpness of their tones. Whatever crisis gripped their pack, it consumed them entirely.

And then, I saw him.

The wolf stood tall and furious, just beyond the tree line, his silhouette illuminated faintly by a sliver of moonlight that pierced the forest canopy. His broad shoulders rose and fell with each heaving breath, his green eyes burning like lanterns against his shadowed face. His rage was visible, radiating from him like a storm barely contained, yet it was tinged with something else—distraction.

I studied him closely, my gaze narrowing as I noted the tension in his clenched fists and the way his eyes darted not just toward the chaotic scene behind him but to some unseen point in the distance. The lines of his face, sharp and chiseled, betrayed a deep frustration, as if the turmoil surrounding him was merely an inconvenience compared to whatever else consumed his mind.

His pack was in disarray, crumbling into chaos. Yet here he stood, defiant and unbending, a lone wolf bearing the weight of something far greater than the crisis before him. And despite his fury, despite the clear signs of weakness in his territory, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of respect.

The wolf was fractured, yes, but not broken. A dangerous thing.

I stepped forward, a cruel smile tugging at my lips. "Fascinating," I chuckled, my voice smooth and laced with venom. "I never thought werewolf territory would be this easy to upset. By the looks of it, you’ve misplaced something... wolf."

He turned to face me fully, his fists clenching as his growl rumbled deep in his chest. He took a menacing step forward, the fury in his eyes blazing like wildfire. "You’ve got two seconds to explain why you’re here before I rip your throat out."

I smirked, entirely unfazed. My calmness only seemed to enrage him further. "Let’s not waste time, pup," I said, my voice dripping with condescension. "I told you this wasn’t over. You know exactly why I’m here. And rest assured, I’ll get what I came for, one way or another. If you’re lucky, I might decide to spare your pack tonight."

I stepped closer, my smirk widening with cruel satisfaction. "This time, though, don’t expect the witches to save you." My voice dripped with arrogance, every word calculated to provoke.

Before he could respond, a sharp voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

"Enough!"

The command froze me in my tracks. My eyes snapped toward the source of the voice, and there she was—Teresa. The air around me shifted, thickening as if the very world had stilled at her presence. How had I not noticed her? How was that even possible?

She stood between us, clutching little Ollie tightly against her chest, her small arms trembling ever so slightly as though the weight she bore extended far beyond the child she cradled. My breath caught at the sight of her. For a fleeting moment, hope flickered in my chest, fragile and uncertain.

But then she turned, crossing the distance between us with determined strides and handed Ollie to the wolf.

Pain lanced through me, sharp and unforgiving, as I caught sight of her face—her complexion paler than I remembered, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. Her fiery spirit, the one I had always admired, was still there, but it was dulled, beaten down by an unbearable sadness that shone brighter than her fury.

I stepped toward her, the wolf momentarily forgotten. My voice softened, almost pleading, as I spoke. "Teresa, are you okay? What has he done to you?"

Her glare stopped me cold. It was icy and unrelenting, her brown eyes brimming with a rage that burned through the night.

"What you have done to me, Adrian," she spat, her voice trembling with fury.

The words struck harder than any blow. Before I could react, her hand shot out, and the sharp crack of her slap reverberated in the air.

She slapped me!

My head snapped to the side, but it wasn’t the sting of the strike that left me stunned—it was the tidal wave of emotions behind it.

"You arrogant, possessive, self-serving vampire!" she shouted, her voice breaking under the weight of her heartbreak. Her chest rose and fell with labored breaths, her hands clenched tightly into fists. "Do you even understand what your actions have cost me?"

Her words were a dagger to my chest, piercing deeper than I thought possible. I stared at her, speechless, the weight of her anger suffocating me. I had expected her to be angry—perhaps even afraid—but this... This was raw, unfiltered agony.

"This is all because of you," she continued, her voice rising with every word. Her face, once warm and inviting, was contorted with grief and fury. "This is your fault!"

"Teresa," I tried again, my voice barely above a whisper. I reached out to her, my hand hovering uncertainly in the air.

"No!" she snapped, recoiling from me as though my touch would burn her. Her body was rigid, her eyes blazing with fury. "Don’t you dare try to sweet-talk me, Adrian. Because of you, my daughter is missing!"

Her words hit me like a sledgehammer, each syllable sinking into my chest and crushing my ribs with invisible force. For a moment, the world tilted beneath my feet. "Your daughter..." I repeated, my voice hoarse and broken. "Mai? My baby is missing?"

"She was taken, Adrian!" Teresa’s voice cracked, the words trembling with pain even as her resolve remained unshaken. She surged forward, grabbing the lapels of my coat with a strength born of desperation. She pulled me down so that our faces were mere inches apart.

Her scent, once a comforting balm to my restless soul, was now laced with bitterness and grief. Her tears glistened under the pale moonlight, but her gaze was unyielding, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Find her, Adrian," she hissed, her voice quivering with fury. "Find my daughter, or so help me, I’ll kill you myself. And this time, I’ll make sure you stay dead!"

The venom in her tone tore through me, each word a lash against my already bruised pride. For centuries, I had faced countless battles and endured unimaginable pain, but this—this was unbearable.

Behind her, the wolf tensed, his broad frame coiled and ready to pounce. His green eyes glinted with anger, his lips curled in a silent snarl. But he didn’t move, restrained only by his respect for Teresa.

I held her gaze, every ounce of her raw pain and desperation reflected in the lines of her face. For the first time in centuries, I was at a loss. No quips. No smirks. Just a deep, aching regret. Slowly, I nodded—a silent vow to make this right.

Turning to my coven, I let the mask I wore slip. My voice, cold and sharp, cut through the night. "You heard her. Find the child." My words were laced with deadly intent. "If anything happens to her, your deaths will be slow and agonizing."

The coven scattered immediately, their forms dissolving into the shadows like smoke carried by the wind. The air pulsed with their urgency, but it did little to calm the tempest raging within me.

When I turned back to Teresa, she stood still, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to hold her crumbling world together. Silent tears streamed down her face, glistening like molten silver, but her expression remained fierce.

"Teresa," I murmured, my voice breaking. I reached for her again, desperate to offer some form of comfort, but she took a step back, her glare piercing through me.

"Don’t," she whispered, her voice trembling with barely restrained emotion. "Don’t you dare say anything, Adrian. Not now. Not after this."

I clenched my fists, swallowing the ache her rejection left behind. My attention flickered to the wolf, who was still watching, his eyes alight with smug satisfaction. My anger surged, and I pointed at him, my voice like a blade.

"Don’t think this lets you off the hook, wolf. If anything happens to Teresa or her child, I’ll make sure you and your pack regret ever crossing me."

The wolf growled low, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. But before he could retort, Teresa stepped in again, her presence commanding and strong.

"Save your pissing contest for later," she snapped, her voice as sharp as steel. "Right now, I want my daughter back. So get moving—both of you!"

I had nothing to say. No retort, no clever comeback. Just one goal—finding my daughter and mending what I had shattered.