Speak Up

Vaughn’s POV

*The others were trying to hurt her. I had to sav—*

The strange woman’s unfinished sentence kept looping through my head, echoing in time with my heavy boots hitting the cracked stone of the packhouse corridor. I carried my daughter away from the kitchen’s stench, moving quickly until we reached a hallway where the moonlight sliced through the grimy windows.

She was an obvious liar. Someone in her pathetic position had no right to talk about saving others. My sharp eyes had locked onto her waist the moment I stepped into that filthy scullery. Seared right into her pale skin was the ugly, jagged brand of a criminal. That mark was universal. It meant treachery. It meant she had committed severe, unforgivable mistakes of judgment. Only the worst of the worst bore that scar. A woman like that did not save innocent children; she preyed on them.

I was the Alpha of the largest, most dominant pack in the region. I wielded massive power, both physically and politically. I commanded armies and dictated the trade routes for thousands of miles. Yet, despite all my influence, my precious daughter had been exposed to criminals and slaves right under my nose. I violently cursed myself for ever agreeing to bring my six-year-old, Cleo, to this filthy, low-tier pack’s wedding.

Normally, I would have stayed a hundred miles away from a run-down territory like this. But a few days ago, Cleo had shoved a crumpled piece of paper into my hands. She had drawn a picture. Two stick figures—one tall, one small—standing under a haphazard archway. She had frantically pointed at the crude drawing, communicating her desperate desire to attend a wedding. She loved the idea of fairy tales, of happy endings. I didn’t have the heart to deny her.

I assumed it would be a simple in-and-out visit. We would show up, endure the ceremony, and head straight home to our secure estate. But the literal moment I took my eyes off her to deal with some lesser Alphas trying to curry favor, she had vanished into the crowd. Panic had crashed over me like a tidal wave. I had abandoned the diplomats, tearing through the pack buildings, tracking her delicate scent through the damp, moldy corridors. That scent led me straight down into the dark, smoky kitchens, only to find my daughter wrapped in the arms of a bruised, dirt-covered slave.

Now, standing in the dim light of the hallway, I set Cleo down gently on her feet. I knelt on the cold stone, ignoring the dirt transferring to my expensive suit, and meticulously checked her small body for injuries. I turned her hands over, checked her elbows, and brushed her dark hair back from her face. She had a few minor scrapes and was covered in soot, but she seemed physically whole.

"Did that nasty woman hurt you?" I asked gently, my voice tight with residual panic. "Is that how you got so dirty?"

Cleo stared at me, her large, soulful eyes wide and expressive. She didn’t say a word. She never did.

A heavy weight settled in my chest. My daughter’s inner wolf had awakened entirely too early due to a traumatic, undisclosed event in her past. Since that terrible day, she had not spoken a single audible word. I loved her more than my own life, and watching my once-vivacious, loud little girl become a timid, silent ghost had been a waking nightmare. I had dragged her to every medical specialist, every wise woman, and every hedgewitch across the continent.

They all told me the same thing: *She has suffered a severe psychological wound. Provide her with the security of a family. Surround her with a mother’s gentle love, and perhaps she might heal.*

I had taken their advice to heart. Over the last few years, I had launched a highly publicized, desperate bride hunt. I paraded countless prospective women through our sprawling estate, offering generous contracts and endless wealth to anyone who could provide the domestic warmth Cleo needed. Dozens of she-wolves answered the call. But Cleo had stubbornly rejected every single one of them. She hid from them, refused to eat near them, and shrank away from their fake, practiced smiles. I felt like I was failing her. All my money and raw Alpha power were entirely useless when it came to fixing my daughter’s broken spirit.

I sighed, brushing a smudge of dirt from Cleo’s cheek. She stepped forward and leaned her head softly against my broad chest.

"Daddy," she whispered.

My entire world stopped. The breath vanished from my lungs. My heart literally ceased to beat.

I froze, terrified that if I moved a single muscle, I would shatter the moment.

"She... saved me," Cleo continued softly. Her voice was raspy, scratching against the silence of the hallway from years of disuse. "Nice... I like her..."

I was stunned. I felt a massive, overwhelming surge of joy crash through my veins. I pulled her into a tight, emotional hug, burying my face in her messy hair. Hearing her precious voice again was worth every ounce of stress and anger I had endured today.

But as I held her, my cynical Alpha mind immediately went to work. The protective, calculating side of my brain kicked into gear. How did a criminal slave in a backwater pack know how to get to me? The answer seemed obvious. She must have somehow learned of my desperate bride hunt. She recognized Cleo, cornered her in that kitchen, and cunningly manipulated my vulnerable daughter into liking her. She fed her a rescue story just to secure a face-to-face interview and escape her miserable servitude.

I despised the fact that this low-ranking woman used my child as a pawn. It disgusted me. But as I pulled back and looked at Cleo’s peaceful face, I had to admit the criminal had successfully captured my attention. If she could make my daughter speak, she was useful. I decided I would seek her out immediately and see what kind of deal she wanted to strike.

Calla’s POV

The stinging pain in my knuckles flared with every brutal scrub. I was back to grueling labor in the damp, freezing scullery, aggressively scrubbing heavily soiled linens in a massive wooden wash basin. The harsh lye soap burned into the fresh cuts on my hands, but I didn't dare slow down. I was physically bracing my battered body for the inevitable. The Alpha had promised to tear me to pieces, and men like him never made empty threats. I expected him to return at any moment to drag me out by my hair.

The water in the basin turned a murky gray. I wiped the stinging sweat from my brow with the back of my bruised forearm, trying to catch my breath.

A massive shadow suddenly blotted out the flickering lantern light.

I looked up from the basin. Standing directly over me, crowding the narrow workspace with his sheer size, was the glowering Alpha. His dark, expensive suit was sharply at odds with the muddy floor of the laundry area, and his intense gaze pinned me in place.

"So you saved my daughter," he stated flatly. His voice was a low rumble that vibrated against the damp stone walls.

Ah, here it was. The interrogation before the punishment.

"Aye, I did," I grumbled, staring defiantly at his polished boots before forcing my chin up to meet his cold eyes. "And I would do it again. For her, or anyone who had the misfortune to end up in her position."

He crossed his thick arms over his broad chest, looking down his nose at me.

"So, do you want money?" he demanded harshly. His tone dripped with a transactional coldness that made my stomach churn. "Or something else?"

I stopped scrubbing. The wet sheet slipped from my raw fingers and splashed back into the soapy water. My eyes flashed with sheer indignation. He actually thought I staged a rescue for a payout. This arrogant, entitled man assumed I only acted out of greed, that I was trying to extort him for a reward.

I glared fiercely at him, my exhaustion burning away into raw anger. "I don’t want anything from you. I’m not that sort of person. I just helped someone who needed helping! But I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that someone like you can’t understand that."

The Alpha scowled, his jaw tightening. He was clearly highly displeased by my stubbornness and blatant lack of respect.

"Listen, my daughter likes you, so I can offer whatever you want to be my..."

"I don’t want anything from you!" I hissed, cutting off whatever insulting contract he was about to propose.

I was done being spoken down to. I aggressively grabbed the heavy wicker laundry basket resting beside the basin. My muscles screamed in protest, but I hoisted it up and pushed forward, trying to shove past his massive frame to reach the drying racks outside.

In my frustration, I misjudged the narrow distance between his broad shoulders and the damp stone wall. My heavy basket ricocheted off the uneven rocks, throwing my balance completely off. I stumbled backward and crashed directly into his solid chest.

The literal second my bare arm brushed against the exposed skin of his wrist, the world tilted.

A shocking, violent surge of energy sparked between us. It snapped like a live electrical wire, hissing with an intense, searing heat that punched straight through my skin and into my veins. The sheer force of the sensation caused my right hand to go entirely numb. The paralysis shot up my forearm, stealing the strength right out of my grip.

I yelped in surprise as my fingers involuntarily opened. The basket slipped from my grasp, tumbling through the air. It hit the ground with a wet thud, spilling the perfectly clean, wet linens directly onto the muddy, filthy floor of the scullery.

I gasped, clutching my numb, tingling arm to my chest. My heart pounded wildly against my ribs. What the hell was that? The bizarre spark left a phantom burn on my skin, making the air between us feel incredibly heavy and charged.

"Hey—" the Alpha stepped back, his dark eyes widening slightly as the muddy water splashed onto the hem of his trousers.

"You need to leave!" I growled, my voice shaking from the lingering shock. I dropped to my bruised knees in the mud, frantically gathering the ruined, filthy towels into a pile. "We have nothing to say to each other!"

He didn't step back. He stood towering over me, his presence suffocating in the small space. His eyes darkened with absolute Alpha authority, stripping away any illusion that I was in control of this situation.

"I always get what I need," he warned. His voice was a low, vibrating growl that settled deep in my bones. "If you don't name your price this time, I will get it my way."

Without waiting for me to form an answer, he turned sharply on his heel. He stalked off in a huff, his heavy footsteps fading rapidly down the corridor, leaving me kneeling in the cold mud with a pounding chest and a ruined pile of laundry.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I reached forward for the damp, muddy sheets. I would have to boil the water and start the gruesome process all over again.

Before my fingers could even graze the fabric, a rough, calloused hand shot out from the shadows and clamped down on my elbow. The grip was brutal, hauling me violently around with enough force to snap my neck back.

I stumbled to my feet, coming face to face with Corbin.

He reeked heavily of sour wine and stale sweat. His bloodshot eyes were wild and paranoid, darting down the hallway where the stranger had just vanished. His fingers dug mercilessly into my flesh, tight enough to immediately begin bruising the muscle.

"Why were you talking to Alpha Vaughn?" Corbin scowled, his face twisted in an ugly sneer. "What on earth were you saying to him?"

My mind raced. The words hit me like a physical blow.

*Alpha Vaughn?*

The blood drained from my face. I had just yelled at, pushed, and defied Alpha Vaughn. The most terrifying, ruthless Alpha in the entire region. The man who commanded armies and destroyed rogue packs for sport.

"Nothing..." I muttered, internally stunned by the horrifying realization of what I had just done.

Corbin didn't believe me. He aggressively reached up and gripped my chin, his thick fingers digging painfully into my jawline, forcing me to look at his flushed, angry face.

"Stop dreaming," he sneered viciously, his foul breath washing over me. He looked at me like I was the dirt beneath his boots, cruelly crushing whatever dignity I had left. "A man like Vaughn would never fall for someone as lowly as you."