Draven.
~Wedding Day~
"Alpha, a body was found just before dawn."
Jeffery's voice sliced through the heavy silence, his tone clipped and serious.
I didn't turn imdiately. My gaze remained fixed on the standing mirror before as my attendant fastened the clasps of my ceremonial robe. The deep black and crimson fabric draped over my broad shoulders, the weight of tradition pressing against my skin.
Jeffery stepped further into the chamber, his reflection appearing in the mirror. "Another werewolf. Sa thod. The heart was taken."
My fingers stilled against the fabric. A slow, simring rage coiled in my chest.
I finally turned, my golden eyes snapping to Jeffery's. "Where?"
Jeffery pulled a folder from his coat, flipping it open. "In the main city. Near the rchant quarter."
He handed a photograph. The image was grueso.
A clean, precise kill. No signs of struggle. The victim's chest cavity was ripped open with brutal efficiency, the heart completely missing.
This wasn't random. It was deliberate. And the ssage? Unclear—but dangerous nonetheless.
My jaw tightened as I handed the photo back. "My brother?"
"He's reinforced the city patrols but is requesting further orders."
I exhaled slowly. "Tell him to double security and begin a full-scale investigation."
Jeffery nodded. "And us?"
"We return to the city in two days."
Jeffery bowed in acknowledgnt. But just as he turned to leave, I spoke again.
"What about redith?"
Jeffery hesitated briefly before answering. "Mada Beatrice is preparing her now."
I gave a curt nod and turned back to the mirror.
Last night, I had left her waiting at dinner.
It hadn't been intentional—I had simply lost track of ti during a strategy eting with my warriors. By the ti Jeffery reminded , it was too late.
Did she sit there waiting? Did she fu in silence? Or did she curse my na under her breath?
I almost smirked because redith from Moonstone wasn't a timid little thing. She was mouthy and sharp-tongued when she wanted to be.
But then, I recalled the state I found her in yesterday.
Gary had dragged her out of the poultry shed like an animal. She was filthy and dishevelled and reeked of poultry and dirt.
For a brief second, my wolf had snarled, baring its teeth in silent outrage. Not at redith, but at them.
She had stood there in front of , trembling, yet still holding her chin up. No weeping, no begging.
She had refused to co with and instead made her demands.
I had given her an order. Her father had cast her out. And still, she tried to fight .
A slow smirk curled at the corner of my lips.
She had fought over the room, too. She had demanded her own space—as if I had ever planned to share mine with her.
So, I let her have her distance.
I had given her exactly what she wanted—a room far away, buried in the maze of staircases and corridors.
Had she learned her lesson after climbing all those stairs last night?
Maybe now she understood—I don't negotiate. I command.
"Done, my Alpha." My attendant took a step back, retrieving a red velvet box from the table. He opened it, revealing a golden crest bearing the emblem of my bloodline.
With careful hands, he pinned it to the left side of my chest, followed by other ceremonial accessories.
Sothing was off. I frowned, adjusting the crest slightly. "It's slanted."
The attendant paled. "Apologies, my Alpha. I'll fix it imdiately."
As he hurried to correct it, the door swung open. I didn't need to turn to know who had entered.
Randall Oatrun. My father.
His presence filled the room before he even spoke. Commanding. Overbearing. Relentless.
Beside him walked Oscar Elrod, my trusted advisor and closest ally. Unlike my father, Oscar was calm and thodical. He spoke only when necessary, but when he did, his words carried weight.
I already knew why my father was here.
"Draven." My father's voice was sharp. "Call off this wedding."
I sighed, barely concealing my annoyance. "We've had this conversation already."
"That's because you have refused to listen."
He took a step forward, his dark eyes narrowing. "The Council Elders are against this. They see redith as a threat."
A slow blink. "Do they?"
"They do not support this union and will do anything to eliminate her," my father pressed.
Ah. So, it had already begun.
I wasn't surprised. The Council Elders were predictable, power-hungry fools. And I was prepared for them.
"Then she will have to survive," I said simply. "And I don't need their support."
My father's nostrils flared. "Draven, this is madness. What kind of King takes a cursed, wolfless woman as his bride?"
I slowly turned to face him fully. "The kind of King who does not answer to anyone."
Power rolled off , thick and suffocating. It was a warning.
My father's jaw ticked. "This isn't a joke, Draven!"
He was losing. And he knew it.
The silence stretched out for seconds. Then, Oscar finally spoke. "You misunderstand, Randall."
His voice was controlled and unwavering as he turned to my father. "Draven didn't choose redith Carter out of emotion. This is a calculated move."
My father exhaled sharply. "Then enlighten ."
Oscar's gaze remained steady. "Had Draven chosen a royal Alpha's daughter, the others would see it as a power play. A declaration of war."
A pause.
"They will fight for dominance. It will divide the packs, creating internal war."
Oscar's eyes flickered toward . "By choosing a powerless, wolfless woman, he prevents that battle. At least for now."
The truth was laid bare.
This wasn't about redith.
This was about keeping the werewolf leaders from tearing each other apart.
There were five major royal packs/clans in our Werewolf Community. And each pack took turns ruling the tribe on a five-year term.
As the next in line to the throne, so fights were inevitable.
My father was silent. His jaw ticked, but I could see the gears turning in his mind.
He knew Oscar was right.
After a long pause, my father exhaled sharply. "I hope you know what you're doing."
I t his gaze without hesitation.
"I always do."
Reviews
All reviews (0)