Chapter 7: confrontation

Lucian

"Stop!"

The word ripped from my throat before my brain could stop it, ringing across the cold granite hallway like a crack of thunder.

I couldn't explain where it came from. It wasn't logic. It wasn't strategy. It was a raw, tangled instinct that pulled me in two opposite directions at once, tearing at my chest until I could barely breathe.

Long before this day, I had made a silent vow to myself.

I had sworn that when the Goddess finally granted me my mate, I would honor her. Shield her. Treat her with a reverence no other wolf in the territories had ever known. I had envisioned a bond of absolute devotion—giving her comfort, safety, luxury, and my unyielding protection. She would never have to beg for my mercy. She would be cherished. Spoiled. Safe behind my claws.

And then the universe handed me her.

A Crest rogue. Fractured. Untamed. A living weapon sent from our greatest enemies.

From the second we pulled her broken body from the border mud, everything had turned to ash. Every Alpha instinct I had cultivated clashed violently with the expectations I had built around the word mate. She didn't fit the gentle image I had carried for years, and a dark, bitter part of me hated her for destroying that dream.

I wanted to step forward. I wanted to roar at my brothers, rip those guards' hands off her, and sweep her into my arms. The urge rose in my chest like a tidal wave, demanding to be set free.

Look at what she did to Anabel, my mind snarled back, instantly dousing the flame with ice.

The memory of entering the chamber flashed behind my eyes—Anabel lying on the stone, crying, bruised, while this girl stood over her with her hand raised. It twisted the knot in my chest tighter, poisoning my hesitation with cold fury. A merciless voice inside my head whispered that she needed to be broken. A rogue couldn't be allowed to strike a princess of the Bloodmoon Dynasty. She had brought this upon herself.

And yet... the moment my eyes dropped to her knees, my breath caught in my throat.

Fresh crimson stained the grey wool of her dress, running down her bare shins in unforgiving, raw streams. It struck something primitive inside me that I couldn't crush, no matter how hard I tried. My chest tightened painfully as a fierce, possessive instinct surged up—an overwhelming demand to stand over her, tear down anyone who dared touch her, and burn the world to keep her safe.

Protect her.

The contradiction made me sick.

Why did she have to attack Anabel? Why couldn't she just be the gentle mate I had prayed for? The thought that she was a Crest spy coiled around my spine like a frozen serpent. It poisoned every emotion, making it impossible to know which voice to trust—the Alpha sworn to defend his family, or the mate drawn inexplicably to the woman bleeding on the stone.

I turned my head slightly. My three brothers were standing near the threshold, their heavy, crimson-tinted gazes locked onto me like lead weights. It was a silent, suffocating reminder of where my allegiance belonged.

We had sworn an oath in blood long before this girl existed. Through war, starvation, and slaughter, we had promised to stand as one—four brothers, one heart, one pack. Breaking that bond for an enemy rogue wasn't an option. It had never been an option.

Everyone wants her punished, my wolf growled softly in the back of my mind, his tone practical and cold. Why fight it?

I swallowed hard, my throat dry as ash. I gave a single, almost imperceptible nod—not to my brothers, but to the ruthless Alpha within me that demanded order over chaos.

"Stop," I barked again, stepping into the corridor with measured, deliberate grace. The guards halted instantly. "I haven't expressed my anger yet."

Each step felt heavy, like walking through deep mud, my boots striking the stone with dull finality.

I stopped right in front of her and crouched down until our faces were inches apart. Her skin was deathly pale, blood trailing from her split lip, but when her eyes lifted to meet mine, everything else in the hallway vanished.

Golden.

Her eyes locked onto mine—unflinching, terrified, yet burning with an agonizing depth that dragged my soul straight into the abyss. There was no deceit in them. No plea. Just a profound, unbearable pain that reached deep into my chest and wrapped around my heart. For a fraction of a second, the entire world narrowed to her gaze.

I raised my right hand.

It hovered in the freezing air between us.

My fingers twitched. Uncertainty, sharp and humiliating, crept in where cold rage was supposed to live. Those golden eyes were unraveling my control, pulling at instincts I had buried under years of bloodshed. My breath hitched. Hesitation burned through me like a weakness I couldn't afford in front of my pack.

I shook my head violently, forcing the weakness out.

CRACK.

My open hand slammed across her face. The force snapped her head sideways, fresh blood blooming across her lips and trailing down her jawline in a crimson line.

I stood up slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped beast.

She deserved it, I lied to myself, clinging to the words like a shield. She's a spy. She hurt Anabel. She deserved it.

I looked at the guards, my voice dropping into ice. "Take her to the square. Fifty lashes."