Alpha's Abandoned Daughter is the Secret Heiress novel Chapter 279

Chapter 279: Extracting the Truth

(Author’s POV)

“Speak now, or you will never speak again.”

Theodore’s voice was a low rumble, vibrating with lethal intent.

Theron looked up from the floor, clutching his useless, bleeding wrists. He searched his son’s face for any trace of the boy he had manipulated for years.

He found nothing.

The hesitant, respectful son was gone. In his place sat the Alpha King, a ruler who viewed mercy as a weakness he had discarded long ago.

The golden eyes staring down at him held no warmth, only a terrifying, abyssal coldness.

Panic, raw and primal, finally shattered Theron’s arrogance.

“No! Don’t!” Theron shrieked, scrambling backward with his heels, leaving streaks of blood on the

tiles. “I’ll talk! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t kill me! I am your father!”

“You have no right to negotiate,” Theodore said, his face impassive.

“I did it! I admit it!” Theron wailed, tears mixing with the sweat on his face. The pain from his

severed tendons was blinding, but the fear of death was sharper.

“I gave him to a woman,” Theron sobbed, his words tumbling out over each other. “A rogue. She… she specializes in moving people.”

“Trafficking,” Theodore corrected, his voice flat.

“Yes! Yes!” Theron cried. “I told her to take him far away. I didn’t want him near the capital. I said take him to the south. To the remote poverty packs in the mountains. Or the rogue settlements.”

Theron looked up, his eyes pleading for understanding.

“I didn’t kill him, Theodore! I just sent him away. Those places… they need male labor. They need strong bloodlines for breeding.”

He swallowed hard, trying to force a pathetic smile.

“I thought… I thought he wouldn’t have it too bad there. He would be useful. He would be alive.”

The air in the room instantly dropped several degrees.

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*Logan*, the massive black wolf within Theodore, let out a roar that shook Theodore’s very

“Wouldn’t have it too bad?” Theodore repeated softly.

His brother. The true blood of the Crimson family. A boy who should have grown up in a palace, surrounded by luxury and power.

Sold like livestock to be a laborer. To be a breeding stud for rogues in the middle of nowhere.

And this man–this monster–dared to say it wasn’t “too bad.”

Theodore didn’t speak. He simply flicked his gaze toward Marcus.

Marcus understood immediately. His expression remained stony as he stepped forward.

He raised the silver switchblade.

“Wait! What are you-” Theron started to scream.

Marcus drove the blade down hard.

*Schlick.*

The silver steel pierced straight through the center of Theron’s right palm, pinning his hand to the

floor.

“ААААННН!”

The scream was guttural, tearing from Theron’s throat as the silver sizzled against his flesh and bone. The smell of burning meat filled the small room.

Theodore watched the agony without blinking.

“I was going to cut out your tongue,” Theodore said, his voice conversational amidst the

screaming. “But you think a life of slavery isn’t ‘too bad! So, surely, a hole in your hand isn’t too bad

either.”

Theron convulsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Where is he?” Theodore demanded, his voice cutting through the noise. “Give me the exact

location.”

“I don’t know!” Theron gasped, snot bubbling from his nose. “I swear! I really don’t know!”

He shook his head frantically against the floor.

“She wouldn’t tell me! That’s how they work! They don’t tell the sellers where the product goes so

we can’t change our minds!”

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Chapter 279 Extracting the Truth

Theodore’s eyes narrowed. The killing intent in the room spiked.

“Then give me a name. A face. Something I can hunt.”

“She… she was called ‘The Hag‘,” Theron stammered, his body trembling violently. “She had gold

teeth! Two of them, right in the front!”

He squeezed his eyes shut, recalling the memory from twenty years ago.

“She was maybe forty or fifty back then. An ugly woman. I don’t know if she is still in the business!

That was two decades ago!”

Theron looked at Theodore, desperation clawing at his throat.

“That’s all I know! Please, son. I’ve told you the truth. I’ll be good now. I’ll be the father you want.

Just let me go.”

Theodore looked down at the broken man.

“Here is your sentence,” Theodore announced, his tone final.

“If I find my brother, and he is safe and whole, you may live out your days in this sanitarium. You will keep your limbs.”

Theron let out a breath of relief, hope flickering in his eyes.

“But,” Theodore continued, leaning forward in his wheelchair. “If he is dead. Or if he is broken

beyond repair…”

The golden eyes flared.

“I will return. I will shatter every bone in your body. I will cut out your tongue. And I will throw you

into the filthiest basement I can find to rot until you die.”

Theron froze, the horror returning tenfold.

Theodore turned his wheelchair away.

“Marcus. Call a doctor to stop the bleeding. Don’t let him die yet.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Marcus replied.

Theodore wheeled himself out of the room, leaving the sound of his father’s terrified weeping behind the heavy door.

In the hallway, Amelia was leaning casually against the wall.

She had unzipped her tactical backpack and was idly tossing a silver torture clamp in her hand.

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She looked up as Theodore emerged.

“Done already?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“He talked,” Theodore said, his voice weary but calm. “He realized I wasn’t bluffing.”

Amelia scoffed, dropping the clamp back into the bag with a metallic clink.

“Men like him don’t deserve cubs,” she said, zipping the bag shut. “He only understands pain.”

“I was too soft before,” Theodore admitted, a bitter smile touching his lips. “My mercy left my brother in danger for twenty years. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“What did he give us?” Amelia asked, falling into step beside his wheelchair.

“A description,” Theodore said. “A woman called ‘The Hag‘. She has two gold teeth.”

Amelia stopped walking. Her sapphire eyes lit up with recognition.

“Gold teeth. The Hag,” she murmured. “That is a very specific identifier.”

She looked at Theodore, a confident smile spreading across her face.

“My network can work with that. The Shadow King has eyes everywhere, even in the gutter where rats like that live. I will mobilize everyone. We will find her.”

Theodore reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently.

“Thank you, Amelia,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I feel like I am always in your debt.”

Amelia chuckled. She leaned down, bringing her face close to his.

“Don’t worry about debts now,” she whispered, her voice taking on a teasing, husky note.

“Find your brother first. Then, after our Mating Ceremony…”

She brushed a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

“You can repay me with your body in our bedroom. I expect a full settlement.”

Theodore’s dark expression vanished instantly. A genuine, heated smile broke through.

“It’s a deal,” he promised.

***

Meanwhile, in the heart of Northgate City.

A black luxury sedan pulled up to the entrance of a high–end commercial building.

The sign above the door read “Prestige Etiquette Training School” in elegant gold lettering.

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Chapter 279 Extracting the Truthy

The back door opened, and Celine stepped out.

Her entire face was wrapped in thick white gauze following her reconstruction surgery. Only her

red, swollen eyes and the tip of her nose were visible.

Two burly bodyguards in black suits flanked her immediately.

“This way, Miss Stone,” one of them said, gesturing toward the entrance.

Celine walked weakly, her body still recovering from the trauma of the surgery.

Despite the pain, a flicker of hope ignited in her chest.

Griffin had sent her here. A finishing school.

*He must want me to learn proper etiquette for when I return to society, she thought. *He is preparing me to be by his side again. He hasn’t abandoned me.*

She clung to that delusion as they took the elevator to the top floor.

The doors opened to a lavishly decorated lobby. It smelled of expensive perfume and old money.

The bodyguards led her straight into a spacious office at the end of the hall.

Celine stepped inside, but the atmosphere made her pause. It didn’t feel like a school. It felt

predatory.

Sitting on a plush leather sofa was a middle–aged woman. She wore a tailored suit that cost more than most people’s cars, but her eyes were hard and cold.

“Ms. Glenda,” one of the bodyguards announced, bowing slightly. “This is the one Alpha Drake sent

over.”

The woman, Glenda–the daughter of the notorious trafficker “The Hag“-looked up from her tea.

She didn’t smile.

She looked at Celine not as a student, or a guest, but with the appraising stare of a butcher inspecting a piece of meat.

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