A Rogue For The Quadruplet Alpha's.

Davian.

My heart ached with every single drop of water I poured on Maria.

It wasn’t a dull ache, it was sharp, persistent, clawing at my chest in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Each splash that landed on her body sent a strange jolt through me, as though the pain wasn’t hers alone. As though some twisted part of me was absorbing it too. My hand trembled more than once, fingers tightening around the container, my instincts screaming at me to stop.

But I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

Vanessa was still in the room.

Her presence pressed down on me like an unspoken reminder, like eyes I could feel even when I wasn’t looking. What would she think if I hesitated? What would she think if she saw mercy where punishment was demanded? I was her Alpha. Her protector. Her mate-to-be. I couldn’t afford weakness, not now, not in front of her.

And yet... Why did it hurt so much?

The woman lying broken on the floor before me was a spy. That was what I told myself. She had always been too quiet, too observant, too easily overlooked. I had sensed it long ago but ignored it, brushing off the unease as paranoia. Now, with Vanessa’s words echoing in my mind, she wasn’t alone, some other guy was with her, everything finally made sense.

A spy.

One who could tear apart everything my brothers and I had spent years building. The pack. The alliances. The power we bled for.

With that thought burning in my head, I hardened my resolve.

I didn’t stop.

I poured the water without mercy, without restraint, until the container was empty. Until there was nothing left to pour. I watched her body twitch, watched her lie there unmoving, watched the punishment take its toll, and still, I forced myself to continue until the very last drop was gone.

Only then did I stop.

And then... she opened her eyes.

The moment her lashes fluttered and those golden eyes cracked open, relief surged through me so violently it almost stole my breath. It hit me hard and fast, completely unwelcome, completely uncalled for. For a split second, I simply stood there, staring, my chest rising sharply as though I had been holding my breath all along.

She was alive.

The realization settled deep.

But just as quickly, I masked it.

I hardened my face, schooled my features into cold indifference, because softness was dangerous. Mercy was dangerous. Not after Vanessa had seen her with another man. Not after the image of Maria in someone else’s presence had planted itself in my mind like a thorn.

The thought alone sent a sharp pulse through my body, hot, violent, confusing.

Another man.

Not one of my brothers.

The idea made no sense, yet it burned all the same. It stirred something ugly and possessive inside me, something I didn’t want to name, something I refused to acknowledge. I pushed it down with anger, letting it fuel the fury already simmering beneath my skin.

I bent down slowly, lowering myself to her level. The room felt smaller as I reached for her, my fingers closing around her chin, lifting her face so I could see her clearly.

Her eyes met mine.

Golden. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

Bright, even through pain and exhaustion.

For a heartbeat, I was lost.

Those eyes, there was something about them. Something that pulled, that held, that made it hard to look away. It felt almost like enchantment, like being caught in something deeper than reason. And then, unbidden, the thought struck me..She must have looked at that man with these same eyes.

The spell shattered instantly.

Anger exploded through me, violent and sudden. I straightened at once, my hand moving before my mind could catch up. The sound of the slap echoed sharply through the room as my palm connected with her face, snapping her head to the side.

The sting lingered in my own hand.

"You are finally awake," I said coldly, my voice stripped of warmth, each syllable laced with venom as it fell from my lips.

The words tasted bitter the moment I spoke them, thicker, heavier than they had any right to be. They lingered in my mouth like poison I couldn’t swallow down. My gaze remained fixed on her as I looked her over slowly: the bruises staining her skin, the shallow rise and fall of her chest, the way her lashes fluttered as though staying conscious required more strength than she possessed. She was fragile. Wrecked. And yet, instead of the satisfaction I had expected, a restless, gnawing tension coiled tighter inside my chest, twisting and tightening until it was almost unbearable.

I wanted to punish her.

I needed to punish her.

I told myself it was necessary, to erase the image that refused to leave my mind, to silence the doubt whispering at the edges of my thoughts. To remind her, and more importantly myself, of where she stood. Of where I stood. This was about control. About power. About restoring an order that felt dangerously close to slipping through my fingers.

And yet, even as I loomed over her, fury burning hot and sharp in my eyes, an undeniable truth clawed its way up from somewhere deep within me. Hurting her wasn’t bringing the relief it was supposed to. The anger didn’t fade. The tension didn’t loosen. If anything, it only grew sharper, more insistent, gnawing at me from the inside out.

I didn’t wait for her to respond.

The silence between us was suffocating, thick enough to choke on, and I had no patience for whatever weak explanation or broken plea she might have tried to form, if she even had the strength to speak at all. I straightened abruptly, turning away from her shattered form and toward the guards stationed at the edge of the room. They stood frozen, rigid, their eyes flickering nervously between Maria on the floor and my face, uncertainty written plainly across their expressions.

"You may leave," I ordered coldly.

The authority in my voice snapped whatever hesitation they had left. They bowed quickly, heads lowered in submission, and rushed out of the room without daring to look back. Their footsteps faded down the corridor, and with them went the last witnesses to what was about to happen.

The door closed with a muted thud.

I turned back slowly.

Vanessa was still on the bed, her body propped up by pillows, her complexion pale as moonlight. She looked shaken, her eyes fixed on Maria as though she had just witnessed something far too horrifying to process. Her fingers trembled where they clutched the edge of the blanket, and for the first time since she had woken, I saw real fear flicker across her delicate features.

"Davian," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think you should stop. She won’t survive anymore torture."

Her words struck something sharp inside me.

I moved without thinking, my hand reaching out and grabbing Maria roughly, dragging her slightly just to remind myself—and her—that she was still conscious, still there. My jaw clenched hard as irritation surged through me. Why couldn’t Maria be even a fraction as gentle, as considerate, as Vanessa?

If only she were kind like her.

If only she knew her place.

"Vanessa," I said, releasing Maria and turning fully toward her. I crossed the room in two long strides and took Vanessa’s hands in mine, my grip firm but careful. I lowered myself slightly so our eyes met, forcing her attention to me alone.

"You are too soft-hearted," I told her quietly, though there was an edge beneath my words. "That kindness of yours will only get you hurt if you are not careful."

Her lashes fluttered, but she didn’t pull away.

"You need to leave the room now," I continued, my tone darkening. "Because I am not sure you would be able to withstand what I am about to do to her."

Her lips parted in shock.

I tightened my hold just enough to steady her, my gaze unwavering. "No one," I said slowly, deliberately, "is permitted to hurt you and go scot-free. No one."

For a moment, she looked torn, caught between fear and relief, between concern and trust. Then she nodded faintly, swallowing hard.

"Okay," she managed to say.

I helped her off the bed carefully, making sure she was steady on her feet before guiding her toward the door. Every step felt heavy, my senses split, part of me watching her closely, another part hyperaware of the presence behind me. Maria hadn’t moved. She lay where I had left her, silent, broken, breathing shallowly.

I opened the door and escorted Vanessa out myself.

Once she was safely beyond the threshold and far enough down the corridor that she couldn’t hear, I shut the door firmly and twisted the key in the lock. The metallic click echoed loudly in the room, final and absolute.

Locked.

I stood there for a moment longer, my hand still resting on the key, my chest rising and falling slowly as I forced myself to breathe.

Then I turned.

The room felt different now.

Smaller. Quieter. Heavier.

Only Maria and I remained.

She was still on the floor, her body curled slightly, damp hair clinging to her face and neck. Her skin looked too pale, almost translucent, as if life had been drained out of her drop by drop. If she was conscious, she didn’t show it. If she was afraid, it lived somewhere deep inside her where she no longer had the strength to react.

I stared at her in silence.

No guards. No Vanessa. No witnesses.

Just her.

And me.

Whatever was going to happen next would happen behind closed doors, unseen by anyone else.