The Exiled Alpha | ✓

22 | Only A Descendent

"That sister of yours really knows how to get her way, doesn't she?"

Before he can even answer, the guard on the left joins in.

"Who's this?" The man looks at me curiously. "Don't tell me you've found your mate after all this time. Damn, she must have a high tolerance."

"Only for alcohol," I mumble while keeping my eyes on the ground.

I earn a hearty chuckle from the guard before Riot abruptly pulls me in front of him, away from the man. He places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me forward.

He doesn't respond to them. Not verbally at least. A tense silence falls all except for the sounds of their armor shifting as they scramble back to their posts. When I glance over my shoulder I catch sight of Riot's black irises. That's all I need to see in order to know how he shut them up.

This way he handles people, he doesn't use his words. He uses intimidation. I can't help but to wonder at that.

I remember with dread what Senya had told me.

"Some dires were so far feral that when they did shift back, they didn't know how to speak."

But Riot isn't a dire wolf. He's only a descendent of one. So that doesn't apply to him... right? She also said that that only happened due to extreme cases of isolation. Which would make sense with his exile— if he were dire wolf.

Inside the Khopeskian walls, it's as beautiful as it's rumored to be. The city is tiered, smaller stone walls built into the ground to separate each other. The houses are all made of white brick and trimmed in shining gold.

Pink rose bushes line the brick street we walk down. Lampposts stand between the bushes, just starting to light up as the sun sinks behind the distant mountain, outlining the city horizon in light.

"This place is amazing. Why'd you leave?" I look around in awe, wandering down the middle of the street.

That was a dumb question. If beauty was enough to make a person stay somewhere, I would still be among the green forests of Visari.

"It's not important," he answers from behind me. I had walked ahead of him in my excitement and he doesn't seem interested in trying to keep up.

"So? I want to know."

I absentmindedly pluck a rose from a bush, feeling the soft petals between my fingers.

"Too bad."

"You called it a prison."

"Because it is."

Ugh. Having a conversation with him is like teaching a rock to communicate: impossible. It only enforces the fears already in the back of my mind.

I slow my pace, falling into line behind him. He leads us up a winding sidewalk on a hill. Giant oak trees provide a natural roof over it.

At the top there's a single, two story house. It's architecture style matches the rest of the city: white bricks and gold accent. There's a little porch on it with rows of purple flowers leading up to the stairs.

On the wall beside the door there's a metal plate. In gold lettering, it's engraving reads 18C.

Riot pulls out a key to unlock it, opening the door to the pitch black inside. Before my wolf's night vision can even kick in, the door slams shut behind me. My legs are swept out from under me and my uninjured side is pressed against a hard torso.