C3

Freya Ashwolf

The entire room went dead silent, every wolf staring at the little boy standing at the door.

He looked no older than four or five years old, wearing a dark velvet tunic strapped with leather belts, his little boots polished clean. He had chubby cheeks, but his features were sharp, his cold black eyes already carrying the weight of a true alpha.

"What a cute little wolf," a performer murmured.

"Where did this pup come from? He looks so sweet!"

I stared at him in total shock. His dark eyes were fierce, his small frame holding a terrifying aura that did not belong to a child.

"You," the boy said, his voice dropping into a deep growl as he pointed a chubby finger straight at Lyra. "You need to kneel and apologize."

Lyra’s eyes went wide, but her surprise quickly turned to rage. "Whose brat are you? You don't know what you are talking about! I didn't break that stupid violin, so why should I apologize?"

"Mind your tongue, female!" The two Royal Sentinels behind the boy stepped forward, their massive shadows swallowing the doorway as their alpha pressure slammed into the room. "You are speaking to the young heir of House Nightbane!"

Lyra froze, her face draining of color.

Sebastian Blackmoor gasped, dropping to his knees so fast his joints cracked. "Young Prince Caelan! Forgive us, we did not hear you approach!"

Lyra stumbled back, clutching her throat. "What? He is Caelan Nightbane?"

Caelan ignored the orchestra master, his dark eyes fixed entirely on Lyra. "I was watching from the doorway. I saw your boot stretch out. You tripped this pretty omega."

My breath hitched. Warmth rushed through my chest, my omega wolf purring softly at how this tiny boy was stepping up to protect me.

"Young Prince," Lyra stammered, trying to pull a fake smile onto her face. "You must be mistaken. You cannot make such heavy claims without proof."

Caelan clicked his tongue. He raised his small hands and clapped once.

A blood physician holding a glowing scrying orb stepped into the room. "I have the visual record right here, Young Master. The orb captured the exact moment this female extended her leg to strike the omega's foot, causing Lady Serilda's sacred violin to shatter."

Lyra's jaw dropped. Panic flared in her eyes as her scent turned sour with fear.

"That violin came from the Nightbane vault," Caelan said, folding his arms across his chest. "It is worth six million pack coins. Pay for it now."

Six million! The Ashwolf Pack was practically bankrupt. Lyra looked like she had been hit by lightning.

"I am sorry, Young Prince!" Lyra dropped to her knees, tears spilling down her heavily painted cheeks. "I didn't mean to! It was an accident! The room is small! Freya—" She turned to me, her voice shrill and desperate. "Freya, tell him! Tell the young prince I didn't mean to push you!"

I glared at her, my lip curling back over my fangs. The nerve of this bitch to frame me and then ask for my mercy!

Before I could speak, Caelan cut her off with a vicious snarl. "You broke it, so you pay! And you will apologize to the pretty omega before my sentinels drag you out! Hand over the gold!"

Lyra choked on her breath, her chest heaving as the entire room stared at her in disgust. She couldn't pay six million coins if she sold her own soul. The shame and horror overload hit her all at once, and her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed onto the wooden floorboards, completely out cold.

Caelan scoffed, looking down at her unconscious body like she was trash. "Useless." He waved his hand toward the sentinels. "Lock her in the hold. If her pack doesn't pay the gold by morning, throw her into the rogue cells."

"Yes, Young Master," the sentinels roared, hauling Lyra off the floor by her hair and dragging her away.

The room remained terrifyingly quiet. Nobody dared to move a muscle in front of the young alpha prince.

Caelan turned his head toward me. The icy, killer glare vanished instantly, replaced by a soft, clear gleam in his dark eyes. He tilted his head, scanning my face, my full curves, and the mark on my collarbone.

I looked back down at him, my heart hammering wildly against my ribs. He had shell-pink lips and tiny white fangs poking out, looking so adorable I wanted to scoop him up and squeeze his chubby cheeks.

Caelan took three short steps toward me on his little boots. He stopped right at my feet, tipped his head back, and held out both of his arms as wide as they could go.

"I want upsies," he demanded.