Chapter 30

Lois bared her fangs at Sara, sharp and glistening as if she would sink them into her flesh. Sara’s smirk faltered, her glare curdling into unease. She stepped back, rattled by the ferocity in Lois’s eyes. Lois was no one she could trifle with.

“Lady Sara, you have been evicted from the department and dismissed for bullying, harassment, and tampering with the King’s convocation,” the captain’s voice thundered. The weight of his words chilled the workshop, silencing every breath.

Sara… sacked?

Her eyes bulged, her chest heaving in disbelief. “What do you mean I’m sacked?” she shrieked, the words tearing from her throat. “What did this wench tell you!? Lies! All of it!”

But the captain’s voice cut through her protests. “The janitor confessed. She reported that you tricked her into locking the storeroom while Lady Lois was inside, and that disruption ruined the procession of the event.”

The entire workshop gasped.

“And your two accomplices,” the captain continued coldly, “are evicted from the department and demoted to the lowest rank in the bureau.” He turned on his heel, walking away without sparing Sara another glance.

The silence left behind was deafening. Sara had bullied others for years and had never been warned—until now. Her arrogance had met its breaking point, and this was her downfall.

Lois stepped closer, her voice calm yet razor-sharp. “You are not on my level.” Her face was utterly blank, unshaken, as she walked past Sara, leaving behind whispers and widened eyes.

Sara collapsed to her knees, sobbing as the guards seized her arms. She had destroyed herself. The career that fed her—gone in a single breath.

ꁞ⁠ ⁠ꁞ⁠ ⁠ꁞ⁠ ⁠ꁞ

When Lois reached the King’s guest house, the guards halted her. Her stomach twisted with nerves. She was about to see Alpha Karl again.

The man she had fled from for six years.

The man who had broken her.

The man who was still her mate.

Now she was here to paint him.

“Let her in. She is the King’s artist,” Wolfe ordered after being informed.

Lois stepped inside. The guest house itself was magnificent, a castle in its own right. Even though it was only a residence reserved for the Alpha King of Great Hale, it radiated majesty fit for an emperor.

She entered the lavish sitting room, quietly arranging her palette, tall chair, and board. Her hands busied themselves with preparation, though her mind was a storm. She waited.

Minutes bled into nearly an hour. Her pigments dried; she mixed again and again. And when Alpha Karl finally appeared, Lois froze.

His stride was commanding, every motion exuding dominance. He was devastatingly handsome—so much so that her chest clenched painfully. His presence made her heart thunder against her ribs. That mate scent still lingered, insidious, coaxing her to lean in, to kiss him, to surrender—

But no. He had rejected her once. He denied the bond. He would do so again.

“Welcome, Your Majesty,” Lois said formally, masking her turmoil behind a pleasant, almost expressionless face. She prayed he would not mention her sextuplets. She prayed he would not even acknowledge knowing her.

Karl circled her slowly, his eyes cold, unreadable. A predator sizing up prey.

What is he doing? Lois wondered, biting down her panic. She just wanted him seated so she could paint and leave.

But then, his gaze lingered. Too long. His eyes drank her in—her lashes that trembled against her cheeks, the golden warmth of her irises that seemed to pull him in despite himself, the sculpted curve of her nose that lent her beauty an elegance that unsettled him.

For the first time, Lois unnerved him. And that infuriated him.

He tore his eyes away, his loathing rushing back like venom. She was no goddess. She was filth. A manipulator. A woman he despised.

“So,” Karl’s voice slid low, dangerously smooth, “did you think about the deal?”

Lois’s heart flared in anger. His breath brushed her ear, sending an electric shiver racing down her spine. His scent—earthy, woody, intoxicating—mocked her self-control.

“Compose yourself, Lois. Don’t be pathetic,” she scolded inwardly, forcing herself upright.

“I am here to work, Your Majesty, not to discuss that matter. But if you insist, my conditions remain the same.” Her voice was stern, yet her lips quirked in a defiant smirk.

Karl exhaled, low and heavy, a sound that rumbled through her veins. Her throat tightened, her body betraying her. She wanted him to step back—yet craved him to stay close.

“I think you no longer have a say. I’ll do it my way,” Karl growled.

Her head snapped up. “What do you mean? What will you do? Kill me?”

His lips twisted in cruel amusement. “No. But you are mine, Lois. My slave. My property.”

Her breath caught. Memories clawed at her—the helpless, broken girl of six years ago, stripped of everything, forced into submission. And now, here he was, speaking the same words, with the same commanding finality.

“I admire your skill,” Karl said, eyes hard as steel. “But you are nothing more than a souvenir to me, gifted by the Alpha King of Bienville. Which means Bienville no longer shelters you. And the sextuplets…” his voice darkened, “…they are mine now.”

He tossed a sealed letter at her feet. The royal stamp glared up at her like a brand.

Lois’s face twisted. “No… this cannot be! I am not going with you to Hale. Leave us here!”

“You wish,” he sneered.

Before she could move, guards surged in. Cloth gagged her mouth, a blindfold smothered her sight, and her world went black.

Karl turned to Wolfe. “Were the sextuplets escorted safely?”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Wolfe replied. “Your finest guards have already taken them back to Hale in secret. We will follow shortly.”

Karl let out a long breath.

“This is the wisest decision you’ve made, Majesty,” Wolfe assured.

Karl smirked. Yes. This was the only way.

He would make Lois suffer. He would strip her of freedom, of hope, of dignity—until she begged him. Until she wept for the right to see her children again.

That was the only way to tame her.