Chapter Twenty-Five

LEO’S POV

"He has lost his damned mind," I growled, slamming my palm down onto the heavy mahogany desk. The mahogany rattled under the force of my Alpha aura, sending a tremble through the glass bottle resting on the tray beside me.

Beta Sam and my Delta, Mark, stood across from me in the sunlit study, both holding rigid, defensive postures.

"What gives Marcus Ashworth the absolute guts to demand her return?" I continued, my voice dangerously low, vibrating with a dark, suffocating rage. "After what they did to her? If I didn’t arrive on time she may have died. He threw her away like trash, and now he dares to send a formal high-court summons demanding his 'rogue ward' back for pack questioning?"

"Leo, He’s playing a game," Sam said calmly, though his jaw was tightly set. "Marcus is a ruthless political snake. He knows pack law gives an Alpha leverage over unbonded pack members. He knows it is enough to stir up trouble in the High Council. He wants something."

"Or someone is pulling his strings," Mark chimed in, his dark eyes narrowing as he leaned against the corner of the desk. "With all due respect, Alpha, the Ashworth pack is be strong but they cannot be compared to the resources under your control. A man like Marcus wouldn't have the audacity to challenge the Crown unless he had powerful backing.”

I leaned back in my leather chair, my palm clenched tightly as my mind raced through the regional alliances. Mark was right. Marcus was a coward who preyed on the weak; he only bared his teeth when he knew a bigger predator had his back.

"Investigate it," I commanded cold, decisive authority. "Look into every single transaction, border crossing, and secret communication the Ashworth pack has made in the last six months. If a single High Council lord or rival pack leader is backing this move, I want their names on my desk before the week ends."

"Consider it done, Alpha," Mark nodded, pulling out his tablet to record the order.

"And there's something else," I added, looking between both of my most trusted men. "The Apex Gathering is in less than two weeks. Ivy will be attending with me as my official plus-one."

Sam blinked, a flash of genuine concern crossing his face. "Are you sure that's wise, Leo? Facing her family in front of the entire high court...”

"She wants this," I interrupted firmly, my tone leaving no room for argument. "She is tired of hiding, and even though I would like to protect her from prying eyes.  I will not force her into the shadows. That night, I am publicly declaring her as my true mate, the future Crown Princess, and the mother of my heir. The entire kingdom will know she is under my protection."

I leaned forward, my gaze turning razor-sharp.

"Because of that, I need our perimeter security at maximum capacity. Half of those pack leaders sitting in that ballroom are snakes waiting for a weakness, and some are downright traitors. I want royal guards stationed at every exit, non-lethal counter-measures prepared, and an entire squad dedicated solely to Ivy's protection. If anyone so much as looks at her with malice, I want them neutralized before they can draw a breath."

"Understood, Alpha," Sam said solemnly, bowing his head. "We will design an airtight security network for the ballroom."

"Dismissed."

Both men bowed respectfully and turned, stepping out of the office and closing the double oak doors behind them, leaving me alone in the sudden silence of the room.

I let out a heavy breath, running a hand over my face. Declaring her as my mate was going to change everything. I knew the heavy, agonizing burden of the Varian royal bloodline all too well. The non-stop political target painted on our backs, the ruthless press, the deadly power struggles. Ivy’s quiet, peaceful life was about to become infinitely more complicated, and the thought of pulling her into my chaotic world made a tight knot form in my chest.

I will protect her from all of it, my wolf growled softly in my mind. No matter the cost.

Leaving my office, I walked through the quiet, restricted sub-levels of the palace, heading down into the secure royal vault. Reaching the massive reinforced titanium doors, I stepped up to the bio-metric scanner, pressed my thumb against the glass, and manually typed in the eight-digit royal clearance code.

The heavy lock clicked open with a deep, pressurized hiss, and the vault doors slid back smoothly.

I stepped inside, passing rows of ancient family artifacts, golden ceremonial swords, and historical tapestries, walking straight toward the central jewelry section. Sunlight filtered through small, high-security stained glass windows, illuminating cases filled with diamonds, rubies, and ancient Varian heirlooms.

I walked past the flashy, oversized tiaras and heavy gold chokers. None of them felt right for Ivy. She didn't need gaudy, aggressive displays of wealth; she deserved something ethereal, timeless, and delicate.

Then, my eyes caught a glow near the back display case.

Resting on a dark velvet cushion was a delicate white-gold chain holding a teardrop-shaped pendant. The gem was a rare, deep moonlight-sapphire…a shimmering, velvety blue that shifted into a soft, mesmerizing silver under the light, surrounded by tiny, intricate diamond leaves.

I stared at it, my heart softening instantly. The striking, radiant blue of the stone matched the exact color of Ivy’s eyes when she looked up at me in the quiet light. It was elegant, powerful, yet breathtakingly gentle.

"Perfect," I whispered.

I reached into the case, carefully lifting the cool velvet box into my hand, before turning around and exiting the vault, locking the heavy doors securely behind me.

As I walked up the marble staircase back toward the palace's main wing, a soft, familiar voice called out to me from the hallway arch.

"Your Royal Highness."

I paused, turning to see Sir Desmond stepping forward. At seventy-five years old, his hair was stark white and his spine was slightly bowed, but his crisp navy butler's uniform was immaculate. He had served my grandfather, my father, and now my mother, standing as a quiet pillar of loyalty through three generations of the Varian royal family.

A genuine, affectionate smile broke across my face. "Sir Desmond. How are you doing today?"

"I am well, my Prince," the old man chuckled softly, his kind, wrinkled eyes warm with fond memory as he looked at me. "And how are you bearing the weight of the kingdom today?"

"I'm managing," I replied softly. "How are your grandkids? Is young Arthur still trying to sneak into the palace armory?"

Sir Desmond let out a light, wheezing laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, very healthy, thank you for asking! And yes, little Arthur is still terrorizing the guards with his wooden sword. He insists he will be your head knight one day."

"I might just hire him," I smiled, before noticing the silver tray he held tucked beneath his arm. "Do you have something for me, Desmond?"

"Ah, yes," Sir Desmond straightened his posture slightly, his tone shifting into professional respect. "I have a message from your mother, my Lord. Her Majesty summons you to the east sunroom immediately. She mentioned it was regarding the guest list for the Apex Gathering."

My smile faltered slightly as a wave of fatigue settled back over my shoulders. My mother’s summons was rarely a simple conversation.

"Thank you, Desmond," I said, patting the old man’s shoulder gently as I walked past him. "I'll head there right away."