The Alpha’s Human Sacrifice

6.

The forest stretched endlessly ahead, a maze of towering trees and twisting roots. The air was thick with damp earth and an unsettling stillness that pressed down on Josephine like a weight.

She clutched the reins tighter, her palms slick with sweat despite the cool breeze. Her horse, calm and sure-footed, moved gracefully along the uneven terrain, its glowing white coat standing out starkly against the gloom, just as much as she did in her impractical dress.

The emissaries rode ahead, their black horses weaving effortlessly through the uneven terrain. Dren led the group, his golden hair gleaming even in the dim light. The wiry one—Vale, she’d heard them call him—seemed unable to stay still, his horse weaving side to side as he glanced back at her with an ever-present smirk. The hulking, scarred emissary remained silent, his broad shoulders hunched as he brought up the rear.

Josephine kept her mouth shut.

The bells were gone, but the echoes of their jingling still haunted her ears, as if her body refused to let her forget the weight of what she’d left behind.

Her legs ached from gripping the horse, and her back throbbed with a dull pain. But it was the hunger—or lack of it—that gnawed at her most. She hadn’t eaten since the day before, but her nerves were so sharp, so all-consuming, that she couldn’t feel the emptiness in her stomach. It was as though her body had decided food was unnecessary, replaced entirely by the churning pit of dread in her chest.

The hours dragged on, the silence thick and suffocating.

Josephine tried to distract herself, counting the trees as they passed or listening to the rhythmic clop of hooves against the mossy ground. But the quiet only grew heavier, wrapping around her until it felt like she might scream just to hear a sound.

She wasn’t a quiet person by nature.

An hour passed before the urge to speak became unbearable.

Biting her lip, Josephine slowed her horse slightly, letting it fall behind until she was riding beside the massive, scarred emissary. His face was hard to read, his amber eyes fixed on the path ahead as though she wasn’t even there.

Her fingers tightened around the reins. “What…” Her voice came out too soft, and she cleared her throat, forcing the words out louder. “What happens to the other brides? The ones that never make it back home?”

The guard gave no response. Made no indication that he had even heard her speak.

It was Vale’s laughing that cut through the air, sharp and mocking. “Torin doesn’t talk to lesser beings, little human,” he said, turning in his saddle to flash her a condescending grin. “Don’t waste your breath.”

Josephine’s face flushed. Her fingers gripped the reins tighter as irritation flared in her chest.

“And you don’t shut up,” she snapped, her green eyes narrowing. “Does that ever get old, or do you genuinely enjoy being insufferable?”

Vale’s grin vanished. He reined his horse sharply, spinning to face her. “I will not be disrespected by a mere human!” He growled, his eyes glowing bright for few intimidating seconds, his lips curled back in a terrifying snare that exposed his rapidly growing canines.

Josephine’s breath hitched, her fingers tightening on the reins. For a fleeting moment, she thought Vale might actually lunge at her, his anger radiating like heat in the already oppressive air.

“Stand down, Vale,” Dren said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Vale’s glowing eyes flicked toward Dren, but he didn’t immediately back down. “She needs to learn her place,” he spat, his voice low and venomous.

“I said stand down,” Dren repeated, this time with a growl that sent a shiver racing up Josephine’s spine.

Vale’s canines receded slowly, though his sneer remained firmly in place. With a sharp tug of his reins, he turned his horse back toward the path.

“Scout ahead,” Dren ordered, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t want to see your face until we reach the gate.”

Vale let out a low growl but obeyed, his horse kicking up dirt as he disappeared into the shadows ahead.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Josephine stared straight ahead, refusing to look at Dren or the guard.

“You really shouldn’t provoke him so much,” Dren said finally, his voice laced with faint amusement. “Wolves are after all never known for our good tempers.”

She ignored him, her jaw tightening.

To her surprise, it wasn’t Dren who spoke next.

“This is my first time,” Torin said suddenly, his voice low and grating. Each word came slow and deliberate, as though they were foreign to him. “Escorting a bride.”

Josephine blinked, startled. She turned to look at him, but his gaze remained fixed ahead.

“The Alpha…” Torin hesitated, his amber eyes flickering faintly. “He is kind. You’ll be safe.”

Josephine bit her lip, her stomach twisting. She didn’t believe him—not for a second—but there was something strangely earnest about the way he spoke.

“I see,” she said quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Torin didn’t reply, and the silence fell again, heavier this time.

From the way Dren’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, she guessed that the hulking emissary didn’t speak often.

……..……………………………………

They reached the portal by mid-afternoon.

The ancient archway stood in a clearing, its weathered stone glowing faintly with runes that pulsed like a heartbeat. The air around it buzzed with an electric energy that made Josephine’s skin prickle, her breaths coming shallow as she approached.

Vale stood at the far edge of the clearing, leaning casually against his black horse. A thin plume of smoke curled from the cigarette between his fingers, his posture relaxed as though he had been waiting for hours.

Josephine slowed her horse as they entered the clearing, her green eyes narrowing as she took in his smirk.

“Well, look who finally decided to join me,” Vale drawled, his tone as lazy as his stance.

He didn’t say anything else. Just smirked at her, his yellow eyes glinting faintly before he turned his attention back to the glowing end of his cigarette.

Josephine exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, grateful he didn’t say more. She doubted she could stomach another taunt.

“Let’s move,” Dren commanded, his tone clipped.

Vale pushed off his horse and flicked the cigarette to the ground, grinding it under his boot before mounting with effortless grace. He didn’t look at her again.

Josephine turned her attention back to the gate as they approached, the energy emanating from it was palpable, wrapping around her like invisible tendrils.

“No mortal crosses without permission,” Dren said, guiding his beast forward. “Consider yourself honored—or cursed, depending on how you see it.”

Josephine tried not to think of what she was about to do as she lightly urged her intelligent horse forward and one second she was in the mortal realm, and the next she passing through the gate to the shifter realm.

Stepping through the archway was like plunging into icy water. The world around her warped and shifted, the air crackling with energy. For a moment, her vision blurred, her senses overwhelmed.

And then it was over.