Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother novel Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Chapter 103

Isolde’s POV

She was supposed to be tied up.

She was supposed to be broken. Bruised. Whimpering in that damp little room while my rogue soldiers did whatever they wanted. I was the powerful queen of the rogue pack now, joyfully waiting by the metal bridge to welcome my men. That was the plan. That was how this was supposed to go.

Instead, Elara stood at the far end of the bridge, bathed in shadow and moonlight, smiling at me like death wearing a familiar face.

"Hello, sister. Miss me?"

Her voice rolled across the metal grating, low and calm and wrong. Not the voice of a girl who’d just been bound with silver-threaded rope. Not the voice of someone who should have been screaming.

The voice of something that had woken up hungry.

I took a step back. My hip bumped the railing. Cold iron bit through my cloak.

"Ela." I forced the name out, forced it to sound steady. Casual. Like we’d run into each other at a market stall. "How did you—"

"Your men weren’t very cooperative." She took a step forward. Then another. Each footfall rang against the bridge like a heartbeat. "At first."

My throat tightened. I could feel it—the pressure rolling off her in waves. Not just anger. Not just rage. Something heavier. Something that pressed against my chest and made my wolf cower, belly-down, in the deepest corner of my mind.

Sovereign energy. Alpha energy.

Impossible. She was nobody. A discarded orphan. A charity case my parents had taken in out of pity and duty. She didn’t have this kind of power. She couldn’t.

But my knees were shaking.

"We’re sisters," I said quickly. The words tumbled out, tripping over each other. "Ela, we’re family. Whatever happened between us—we can talk about this. We can—"

Her hand closed around my throat.

No warning. No wind-up. One moment she was three strides away, and the next her fingers were wrapped around my neck, and my feet were no longer touching the grating.

She lifted me like I weighed nothing. Like I was made of paper and straw. Her grip wasn’t even tight—not yet—but the promise of it was enough. Those fingers could close completely at any moment. I understood that in the most primal, wordless part of my brain.

"Family," she repeated softly. The word dripped from her mouth like something rotten. Her ice-blue eyes burned in the dark—actually burned, luminous and pale, like twin moons set into a face carved from stone.

"You sold me to those rogues in a basement, Iso." Her thumb pressed against my pulse. "You tied me with silver rope. You stood there and watched them put their hands on me."

"I didn’t—I wasn’t—"

"Don’t."

One word. Quiet. Final. The Alpha command behind it slammed into my wolf like a physical blow, and every excuse I’d been manufacturing died in my chest.

My vision started spotting. Black flowers blooming at the edges. My lungs burned. I clawed at her wrist, my nails scraping uselessly against skin that felt like iron beneath warm flesh.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t speak.

But I could still think.

Malak.

I reached inward, past the terror, past the shrieking animal panic, into the bond—that dark, twisted thread that connected me to him. The mind-link. It was always there. He kept it open. Not out of affection. Out of possession. The way a man keeps a leash tied to his belt even when the dog isn’t pulling.

Malak! I screamed through the link. The cellar bridge—south corridor—she’s free—she broke loose—

Silence. For one horrifying second, nothing.

Then his presence flooded in. Dark. Vast. Like stepping into a room with no walls and no floor.

What? His voice was a low snarl inside my skull.

She’s killing me! I shrieked. Bring the tainted water—the silver-laced wolfsbane—the syringe—the bridge by the cellars—HURRY—

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