Alpha’s Regret After Putting Me In Jail novel Chapter 101

Chapter 101: His Den

Chapter 101: His Den

Chapter 101: His Den

(Celeste’s POV)

Marcus’s claws pressed deeper against my throat, cutting off my air supply. The suffocating weight of his grip made my vision swim, yet I forced myself to remain still.

The burning pain spread rapidly, but my scarred wolf submitted instinctively. Four years of enduring the Moon Shadow Prison had taught me one thing–resistance in the face of sadistic wolves like Marcus only invited greater cruelty.

He tilted his head, his violet eyes gleaming with a twisted sense of triumph. “That’s better,” he purred, his royal aura suffocating me more than the physical grip on my neck. “Such a good little mate, finally learning her place.”

Silence was my only answer. Marcus thrived on reactions, both emotional and physical, and I refused to give him the satisfaction. My stillness wasn’t bravery. It was necessity.

The moment he sensed my wolf’s submission, his hand loosened slightly. Air rushed back into my lungs, but I didn’t dare cough. Any sign of weakness would fuel his pleasure further.

Marcus’s soft chuckle echoed through the dense forest surroundings. His satisfaction radiated through every inch of his posture.

“You’re learning,” he said, tilting my chin up with just enough force to remind me who was in control. “Perhaps I’ve underestimated you, Celeste. There’s a defiance in you I didn’t notice

before.”

His tone was sweet, but the undercurrent of threat in his words sent chills through me. My wolf curled inward, desperate to avoid provoking his royal temper further.

“Captain,” Marcus barked suddenly, his voice sharp and commanding.

A royal guard, clad in black leather that bore the royal insignia, appeared from the surrounding shadows. He bowed deeply before approaching.

“How much farther to our special location?” Marcus asked lazily, his claws retracting slightly as he gestured dismissively toward me.

The guard kept his gaze respectfully lowered as he responded. “Just ahead, Your Highness. The den has been prepared as you requested.”

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Chapter 101: His Den

The metallic scent of silver grew stronger with each step forward, and my scarred wolf whimpered involuntarily. My instincts screamed at me to run, despite the futility. There was no

escape.

“Perfect,” Marcus drawled, his attention snapping back to me. His violet eyes scanned me with unpleasant intensity, taking in every tremble I couldn’t hide.

“I do so love showing my precious mate new experiences.” The way he emphasized the word “experiences” promised nothing short of torment.

He didn’t wait for my reply. With shocking force, Marcus’s large hand clamped around my upper arm, dragging me forward like prey being led to s*******r.

Each step into the thickening shadows of the ancient trees made the atmosphere heavier. The

moons above, once a comforting light, felt cold and distant now.

Ancient roots jutted from the ground, tripping me as my balance faltered. Marcus’s grip tightened, bruisingly firm, as he yanked me upright without pause. To him, I was a toy to be

dragged without care.

“No freedom to wander off now, my little mate,” he jeered, his tone playful. The sheer wrongness of his faux warmth made my chest constrict.

In the distance, an abandoned den came into view. Its structure was partially hidden beneath thick undergrowth, but its aura of despair was palpable.

The metallic scent of silver and the faint, sharp tang of wolfsbane became almost unbearable as the distance closed. My enhanced senses could detect decades–old blood beneath it all- stale terror from countless wolves who had entered this place and never emerged the same.

Marcus’s royal wolf radiated excitement as we approached, while my scarred wolf whimpered defensively, shrinking inward as the full weight of the moment hit me.

The royal guard rushed ahead, efficiently unlocking the heavy door with a set of large, iron keys. Silver plating reinforced every inch of the barrier, its dull surface catching the faint

traces of moonlight.

The thought of entering overwhelmed every survival instinct I had left. My breaths came shallow and quick, though I tried desperately to mask my panic.

“Ah,” Marcus exhaled as the silver door creaked open. His grip shifted to the base of my neck, almost caressing. “Welcome to my private sanctuary, mate.”

Before I could steady myself, Marcus shoved me through the doorway with a force that made

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Chapter 101: His Den

my knees buckle. I caught myself on the smooth, cold stone floor, my breath escaping in a strangled gasp.

It was darker inside than I expected. Moonlight filtered in weakly through jagged cracks in the den’s walls, casting long, ominous shadows.

With each moment my eyes adjusted to the dim light, the details of my surroundings came

into horrifying focus.

Silver chains dangled from the ceiling like macabre ornaments, their dull surfaces worn

smooth from decades of use. Deep claw marks gouged into the stone walls were stained

black with dried blood.

As the royal guard methodically lit several moon–blessed crystals positioned around the room,

the oppressive shadows retreated slightly. But they revealed something worse.

Shelves along the walls were lined with instruments of torture. Silver–infused restraints sat

beside neatly coiled wolfsbane–laced ropes. Tools designed for pain and survival lay in

meticulous rows–clearly arranged to inflict as much suffering as possible without taking a

wolf’s life.

An overwhelming sense of malevolence coated the air, wrapping tightly around my scarred

wolf. My instincts screamed to shift and run, but rationality extinguished that thought

instantly. Not only would his royal guards stop me, but Marcus would revel in punishing such

defiance.

The guard placed a single chair in the center of the room before bowing deeply to Marcus. At a sharp wave of dismissal from his Alpha, the guard retreated swiftly.

I flinched as the heavy silver–reinforced door closed behind him. The metallic click of each.

lock being engaged echoed with sickening finality.

Marcus watched my reaction with an amused, predatory air. His violet eyes glowed faintly in

the low light, a stark contrast to the traditional darkness of his royal wolf’s aura.

“How do you like my private chambers, precious?” he asked mockingly, his voice laced with

cruel humor.

I stood frozen, struggling to form a response. The weight of his question hung in the air, daring

me to utter the wrong words.