MATED TO THE SECRET ALPHA
Chapter 189: Wretch

Chapter 189: Wretch

The tall man didn’t.

He just stood there, blade still humming in his hand, eyes not on the warriors, not on Wretch—but on the ravine. Listening.

The creatures were close again.

Wretch tried to crawl backward, whimpering, his hands trembling too much to support his weight. "We’re going to die," he gasped. "They’re going to eat us. I can hear them. I feel them inside my..." He gagged, tears freezing on his cheeks. "I – I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t— I can’t—"

"Shut your mouth, Idiot!" someone yelled.

Wretch froze like he’d been struck.

"He’s never fought a monster in his life. He’s a sheltered moron. Useless," another spat.

Yet, the Wretch didn’t stop. "I – I want to go home." He wept. "I want to –"

"Enough," the tall man said, quiet but sharp.

The group immediately shut up, awaiting his orders.

The tall man turned to the remaining members, his gaze raking over them. Then, he sighed with relief. They’d only lost a handful, although most of their carts had either gone missing or had toppled over the cliff. But they were still able to save some.

As for the carts that were toppled or had gone missing, perhaps, they could search for them tomorrow. The imperishable goods could still be recovered... if they lived.

Just like the Luna, he knew how important the goods were.

The wind howled again, carrying with it the faint, nauseating stench of death and sulfur. The tall man looked down at Wretch, who had curled in on himself, his fingers digging into the slush like a man trying to claw his way out of his own mind.

"We hold here," he said at last. "For ten minutes. No more."

"But they’re coming—" a younger warrior blurted.

"They are always coming," the tall man interrupted. "And if we run now, they will tear through our flank. We hold. We breathe. We remember we are not yet dead." He paused, then added slowly. "Night is coming. We need strength to fight and run."

He looked once more at Wretch. His voice was barely soft. "Get up."

Wretch shook his head. "I c-can’t..."

"Get your ass up, you coward!" someone snarled, kicking him hard from the side. He toppled awkwardly, landing face-first in the snow, his head half-buried in the frozen slush.

A few roared with laughter, despite their bleak future, and some clicked their tongues and shook their heads in disgust, their breath fogging the cold air.

Who would have thought that this foul-mouthed, pompous, insufferable, obnoxious, and arrogant brother of the Luna would become ... this?

Now a sniveling, half-frozen wreck?

A stain on their pride?

A liability!

Karl. The same brat who wouldn’t shut up on the march to the Southern Islands. The same arrogant fool who’d bragged about punishing them all when they returned to the pack. And at the Southern islands, he almost caused a scene.

If not for the tall man, their leader, who’d been protecting him since they began this journey, they’d have long butchered him like their Luna suggested.

Now, Karl shook like a leaf, crying in the open like a child, while warriors who’d bled through the afternoon stood over him, hardened and grim.

"Oh, he can’t even lift himself out," one scoffed, shoving Karl’s backside with a boot, sending him sprawling further into the snow.

Another sharp laughter echoed in the open. Finally, the tall man stepped forward, gripping Karl by the back of his torn cloak with one gauntleted hand and pulled him out of the snow.

"That’s enough," the tall man said, voice low but cutting. The kind of tone that made men flinch more than growl.

The laughter died, clipped off like a torch snuffed in a storm.

Karl didn’t meet his eyes. His lips trembled, face drained of color from the snow. He looked like a shattered thing, crumpled in a body that used to swagger.

He was indeed a little thing. He was barely twenty.

"You can hate him later," the tall man continued, dragging Karl to his feet. "Mock him all you want when we’re out of here. But right now, he’s one of us. Right now, he breathes. And right now, we need every breathing body to keep them out of our throats."

He released Karl roughly, letting him stumble and catch himself... or not.

And the idiot fell on his butt and somehow managed to roll a few feet away on his side.

No one laughed this time, but they sneered.

The tall man adjusted his grip on his sword and turned his back on them all. "Form the ring again. Blades out. Eyes open. You have less than ten minutes to catch your breaths. After that, we race with everything we’ve got through the bridge. Safety lies on the other side of the ravine. If we don’t make it before dark, we die here."

The warriors muttered low, moving to obey. Some wiped their blades clean, others checked wounds or tightened their boots. A few simply stared into the gloom, jaws clenched, muscles twitching at every distant howl.

Karl remained where he had fallen, shivering violently, his teeth chattering loud enough to be heard above the wind. He didn’t try to rise again.

The tall man didn’t look back.

He didn’t have time for pity.

But after a long pause, he said – still facing the Ravine. "Get up, Karl. Or you will be left behind."

That was it. No threat, no anger. Just fact.

Karl blinked, snow melting slowly on his lashes. Somewhere beneath the haze of terror, shame, and cold, something stirred.

Determination to live. Determination to go back home to his brother’s protection. To his sister’s nagging. To his mother’s calm but calculated smiles... And to Reana’s evil smirk.

Karl would choose to be by Reana, seeing her detestable beautiful face everyday than being in this hellhole.

He knew she was the reason he was here, and should curse her to die horribly. He should hate her more with every shaky breath he took. He should hate her for every insult he received, for every tremble from cold and fear...