Chapter 7 - THE REBEL’S TRAP
"Alonzo!" Gertrude screamed over the din of battle, pointing toward the rear of the cabin.
The Alpha King followed her gaze. His golden eyes locked onto Coulter Woods and the rebel operatives slipping toward the storage shed where the camp's medical supplies—and Gertrude’s home—were centered.
Alonzo let out a primal roar that shook the very snow off the pine branches. He charged forward like an avalanche, tearing through the rebel ranks with brutal efficiency, leaving a trail of disarmed combatants in his wake.
Coulter Woods turned just in time to see the enraged Alpha King bearing down on him like a nightmare incarnate. The tax collector’s face drained of all color, his arrogant smile shattering into pure terror.
"Kill her! Take the healer!" Coulter shrieked, shoving one of his own mercenary guards directly into Alonzo’s path before turning and sprinting desperately toward the dark timberline of the gorge.
The mercenary lunged at Alonzo with a silver-edged spear, but the King sidestepped the blow with fluid grace, his massive hand lashing out to snap the shaft in half before driving his fist into the rebel's chest armor, sending him crashing into the snow.
By the time Alonzo cleared the path, Coulter Woods had already vanished into the shadows of the Black Gorge, sprinting down the steep, icy ravine.
Alonzo stopped at the edge of the gorge, his chest heaving, his golden eyes burning with unbridled fury. He turned back toward the cabin, where Gertrude was calmly finishing bandaging the last of the wounded guards.
The immediate attack had been repelled. The rebel forces, disorganized by the King’s terrifying counter-assault and the arrival of royal reinforcements from the valley, were retreating back down the mountain, leaving smoking fires and trampled snow in their wake.
Gertrude stood up, wiping a streak of soot and dried blood from her cheek, her dark hair wild around her face. She walked over to Alonzo, her expression unreadable.
"Well," she said dryly, looking around at the smoking battlefield surrounding her ruined cabin. "I suppose my winter garden is officially ruined."
Alonzo let out a rough, breathless laugh, closing the distance between them in two long strides. He grabbed her by the waist and lifted her slightly off the ground, burying his face in her neck as he exhaled a long, shuddering sigh of pure relief.
"You are infuriatingly reckless," he murmured against her skin.
"I believe the word you're looking for is indispensable," Gertrude retorted, though she didn't push him away. Instead, her hands rested softly against his broad shoulders, feeling the steady, powerful thrum of his heartbeat.
"Both," Alonzo whispered, pulling back just enough to look down into her eyes. "And now, you are coming with me to the royal capital. The Iron Peaks are no longer safe for you."
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Gertrude opened her mouth to argue—to remind him of her cabin, her herbs, her stubborn independence—when a sharp, metallic glint caught her eye from the edge of the gorge.
Too late, she realized the trap wasn't over.
