Chapter 10

Alpha Ellison.

I knew it was a mistake the moment she opened her mouth.

Ivy.

She sat beside me, her lips painted too red, her laughter too loud, the clink of her utensils far too frequent. She devoured the food as if she hadn’t been fed in days, pausing only to interject into conversations that didn’t involve her.

“Minister Dagan,” she cooed, cutting across his discussion on regional grain shortages, “you know the real problem is the way the markets are structured, don’t you think?”

The man blinked, confused, unsure whether to answer. He cleared his throat, looking toward me.

I said nothing.

Ivy didn’t seem to notice—or didn’t care. She speared another piece of roast lamb and spoke with her mouth full. “It’s all about control. The Alpha must be firm with the local councils. Like you’ve always said, my king.”

I clenched my jaw.

She used to know when to keep quiet. She used to understand her place. But now… now she was flailing, desperate to reclaim something that had already been lost.

Lucy had arrived at the dinner looking like a storm had swept her in—and yet, she’d carried herself like a woman fighting to stay afloat in a room that wanted her drowned. There was power in that. Raw, untamed, but real.

And Ivy knew it.

I felt her watching Lucy too. The stiff smile. The subtle digs masked as laughter. The calculated attempt to outshine her with perfectly styled hair and borrowed confidence.

But Lucy never flinched.

The longer I sat between them, the more I felt it building—something feral, something impatient. My wolf stirred beneath my skin. Agitated. Not by Ivy. No, it wasn't Ivy. It was her. Lucy.

And I didn’t like that one bit.

I stood abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the polished floor. Every conversation at the table died mid-sentence.

“My king?” Ivy asked, blinking up at me.

“I’ve lost my appetite,” I said shortly.

Without waiting for response, I turned and walked out of the dining hall.

I didn’t go to my chambers.

Not immediately.

My boots echoed through the empty corridor as I turned down the north wing, where the guest quarters were. My thoughts were a storm, my body pulsing with something I couldn’t explain—frustration, yes, but also an uninvited pull I had no business entertaining.

She shouldn’t matter. Lucy shouldn’t matter.

She was a breeder. A vessel. Chosen for a task, not a throne. She was just like every other girl I've had in my bed. Nothing was special about her.

And yet…

My feet stopped at her door.

I stared at it for a moment, hand hovering over the handle. I should turn around. Walk away. But instead, I knocked once—and then let myself in.

She was already on her knees.

“Alpha,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Please—please forgive me. I didn’t mean to be late, I swear.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but she kept going, her words pouring out like a dam had broken.

“Ivy brought tea to my room. She said she wanted to apologize, but she spilled it on purpose. And the dress you gave me was ruined. I tried to clean it, but it had dye. She planned it. I—” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t want to miss the dinner. I knew it was important. Then she said there was a wardrobe, a hidden one, and I believed her.”

She looked up at me, tears brimming in those storm-gray eyes.

“She took me upstairs… and shoved me into an abandoned room. Locked the door. Left me there.”

I said nothing. My hands curled into fists at my sides.

Elizabeth had mentioned something about Lucy arriving late, but I hadn’t cared to investigate—until now.

“She locked you in a room?” I asked quietly.

“Yes,” Lucy whispered. “And if Elizabeth hadn’t found me, I never would’ve made it. I tried, Alpha. I really did.”

I exhaled slowly, feeling the heat rising in my chest. Not at her. At myself. For believing even for a moment that she was the problem.

She was still kneeling, hair falling into her face, shoulders hunched. And I couldn’t look away from her.

Every instinct in me said touch her. Pull her into my arms. Press my lips to hers and taste the fire behind her fear.

It was maddening.

I shouldn’t feel this. Not for her. Not for someone I was meant to use.

And yet—

My hand moved, barely a breath from her cheek.

She flinched, not from fear—but from the intimacy.

I stepped back. And then I left the room before I did something foolish.

My room felt colder than usual.

I paced like a caged animal, tearing the buttons of my jacket open with angry fingers. My blood boiled beneath my skin—not with rage, but with heat. Need.

I sat at the edge of the bed, head in my hands.

She had begged me. Pleaded for forgiveness. And all I could think about was her lips. Her scent. The wildness in her eyes when she fought Ivy, when she walked into that dining hall with her head high.

She didn’t belong to this place, and yet, she refused to bow.

And my wolf… my wolf was obsessed.

"She’s strong, she's all that we need." Scar growled.

"She’s a nobody, a desperate girl that wants money!" I answered.

"She’s ours."

I stood abruptly and crossed to the mirror. My reflection glared back at me—tense jaw, bloodshot eyes, the veins in my neck straining.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

I’d chosen her because of her lineage. Her blood. Her use. Breeders were supposed to be silent, obedient. Decorative.

Lucy was none of those things.

And that terrified me.

Because if I let her in, if I let myself feel something—I’d be compromising more than my pride.

I’d be compromising the crown.

I opened the drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey, pouring myself a heavy glass. The burn down my throat helped, but not enough. Not nearly enough.

You’re the Alpha, I reminded myself. You make the rules.

But what if she was the exception?

Hours passed.

The moon was high when I finally collapsed onto the bed, though sleep didn’t come easily. My dreams were filled with tangled sheets, gray eyes, and a mouth that whispered my name like a secret.

And when I woke—sweating, breathless—I knew one thing with terrifying certainty.

Lucy wasn’t just my breeder anymore.

She was becoming my weakness.