Ramona The Alphas Nemesis

"Please-please don't cut off my

hand!"

The desperate plea echoed through the dark chamber, bouncing off the cold stone walls. The scent of damp earth

and blood filled the air, thick and suffocating. The torches lining the walls

flickered weakly, casting long, jagged shadows across the room.

In the center, kneeling on the rough

ground, was a man drenched in sweat. His body trembled violently, his wrists

bound behind his back with thick iron cuffs. His eyes, wide with terror, darted

around the room, searching for mercy in faces that held none. He knew he was in big trouble, and there was no way he would come out of it alive.

He had been starved for days, without food or water. He swallowed

hard, trying to wet his dry throat as he stared up at the silhouette of the

monster before him. The devil, as they would call him.

A heavy silence followed. A deafing silence, one which could make you wonder, what was gonna happen next.

Then, his voice came....

A low, amused chuckle.

Deep.

Cold.

Menacing.

The shadowed figure leaned forward,

elbows resting on his knees, fingers clasped together in a relaxed manner. The light which was dim, adding more tension to the scenery, caught the ink sprawled across his arms-dark tattoos winding up his

biceps, disappearing into the rolled sleeves of his shirt. His broad shoulders,

sculpted with raw power, gave him an almost godlike pres

Alpha Killian.

The devil himself. That's what he liked to be called.

The traitor's breath hitched as he tried again, his voice breaking. "Please, I swear by the Moon Goddess, I did try! I did! I..." His desperate pleas, were cut short by a chuckle, this one darker, mocking, showing non-chalance.

"You want me to spare you?"

Killian's voice was deep, rough, filled with a quiet kind of malice. He tilted his head slightly, watching the man shake.

Pathetic. That's what he thought about the fucking traitor. The fool thought, he could betray his pack, and walk away freely, and now, here he was begging for his life.

The traitor nodded frantically. "I

promise, Alpha. I'll do anything. I'll go back, I'll get the intel. Just please, spare me". He pleaded, crying bitterly.

Killian exhaled, sitting back in his chair, his sharp gaze fixed on the man before him. He wasn't in a rush. He

enjoyed watching his prey squirm, relished the taste of their fear.

It was intoxicating. It satisfies him when they begged for mercy, it made him feel like a god, and he was one, both in the human realm, and in the supernatural realm.

"I sent you on a mission, to our rival pack," he mused, his voice calm, deliberate. "A mission that required nothing but stealth, precision, and loyalty."

The kneeling man shuddered, his head bent in shame.

"And yet..." Killian leaned