She swallowed hard, visibly trying not to cry. "I... I heard a noise outside. A commotion. I didn’t think...I just ran to check. I left the Luna and her friend inside, just for a second, but I barely stepped outside when... sothing hit . It was like my whole body turned to jelly. I got dizzy." She closed her eyes for a mont, then opened them with a shaky breath. "But I saw two people. I only recognized one."
Lucas’s eyes narrowed. "Who?"
Her voice trembled as she whispered, "Beta Dorian."
Dennis swore under his breath. Lucas, however, stood completely still. A statue of fury. His hand curled into a fist.
"That bastard," Dennis hissed.
Lucas turned to Dennis, his eyes wide with disbelief and fury. Dorian. The na alone now tasted like ash in his mouth. Betrayal was one thing but Dorian working with the Alpha King?
Dennis inhaled deeply before speaking. "We knew he wouldn’t stay down for long. Now, we kill two birds with one stone," he added.
Dennis was barely holding it together.
His hands didn’t tremble. His eyes didn’t tear up. His breathing remained steady. But inside, Dennis was screaming. The love of his life was in the hands of a man who didn’t understand rcy, who had power without restraint. He couldn’t break down. Because if he broke down, Lucas would lose control.
So Dennis stood tall. Taller than he’d ever felt before. Because sotis, real strength isn’t about muscles or magic. It’s about not losing your mind when everything inside you is breaking.
*****
Alaric strutted into the throne room. His smile was wide, and his chest puffed with pride. He was practically humming.
"Judging by how pleased you look, I believe your mission was a success," the King said.
Alaric gave a bow so theatrical it could’ve won a standing ovation. "Very successful, Your Majesty," he announced. "We found the Daughter of the Moon, and she is currently... resting."
Resting. What a dainty word for unconscious.
The King gave a thoughtful nod, fingers steepled together. "And Zoe?"
Alaric’s smirk didn’t falter. "She is in the dungeons now, Your Majesty."
A slow, deliberate exhale left the King’s lips. "She will be executed. But first..." he leaned forward, "...find out what she has learnt so far."
Alaric bowed again, this ti with less flair. "Of course."
"The Daughter of the Moon... what is her na?" the King asked, reclining against his throne, his eyes glittered with dangerous curiosity.
"Ava," Alaric replied.
"Put her in the Queen’s wing of the castle," the King ordered smoothly, tapping his long, pale fingers on the armrest. "Assign a maid to her. Make sure she is comfortable. We need to make sure she has a better life here than with her... forr mate."
There was a flicker of disdain in his voice when he said "forr mate," like the words themselves were a dirty taste in his mouth. The King believed no man, not even Alpha Lucas, could be worthy of a goddess. The Moon’s chosen child deserved satin sheets, not snarling beasts.
Alaric nodded again, this ti slower. "Yes, Your Majesty," he murmured.
The King gave a half-smile. "Looks like there is a better head on Dorian’s shoulders than yours. His trick to let Alpha Lucas lower his guard by sending that letter worked splendidly. I had my doubts, but the traitor exceeded expectations."
Alaric’s jaw clenched. There it was. The daily humiliation. The King never passed up an opportunity to crush pride. He said nothing, rely bowed.
With a stiff turn, Alaric walked out of the throne room, hiding the burn of sha and resentnt under a well-practiced poker face.
*****
Far below the castle, beneath the cold stone and iron bars, Zoe hung by the wrists. Chains rubbed raw against her skin, but she no longer noticed. Pain had beco her roommate. It was routine now. Every six hours, the guards would co in with cruel grins and whips soaked in sothing that stung worse than heartbreak.
She didn’t flinch anymore. Not because it didn’t hurt, but because she had trained herself to leave.
She closed her eyes, and there he was—Dennis.
Dennis with the crooked smile and that hair he never quite tad. She imagined his arms around her, warm and solid, grounding her in ways chains never could. His voice, deep and playful, always saying sothing utterly ridiculous.
Dennis had saved her once. He didn’t know it, but even now, he was saving her. Each lash of the whip, each cruel word from the guards, was drowned by mories of him.
She didn’t cry.
She couldn’t afford the salt.
She just escaped into that world in her mind. That life beca her fortress. And in that fortress, she was untouchable.
The guards didn’t know it, but every ti they hurt her, Dennis was there, holding her close, reminding her of who she was.
And if this was going to be the end, she would die smiling.
Not because she wanted to die—but because if she did, she’d go to her death wrapped in the mory of love. Of him.
*****
Ava’s eyelids fluttered open, slowly at first, as though the weight of waking up was too much for her brain to handle all at once. Her lashes twitched against her cheek as her vision adjusted to the soft golden glow spilling from a nearby lamp. She blinked. Once. Twice. Three tis. This... wasn’t her room.
Her mind was foggy. Had she had too much to drink at the engagent party? She couldn’t rember drinking.
She threw her legs off the side of the bed and gasped as her toes sank into the most luxurious carpet her feet had ever had the pleasure of touching. She sat up slowly, the silken sheets rustling around her. The furniture looked expensive enough to have its own security detail.
Heart pounding, she stumbled toward the window, yanked back the heavy velvet curtains, and practically flung herself against the glass.
Her breath hitched.
She was on the top floor of what looked like a castle. A ridiculously huge kind of castle. Was this a dream?
Panic bubbled in her chest. She shut her eyes and searched her mory—boutique, yes, she and Zoe had been getting ready for Zoe’s engagent party. She rembered laughing.
And then—nothing.
No warning. Just... darkness. What happened? Where the hell was she?
She turned toward the door when it flew open so suddenly she almost scread.
"You’re awake, my lady," a girl said cheerily, as if they were sharing a sleepover. She couldn’t have been older than seventeen, her cheeks dimpled and her arms filled with fluffy white towels. "I’ll send a ssage to the king."
Ava blinked at her. "The... king?" she repeated slowly.
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