Don't call her pathetic

Ryker’s POV

The sound of her voice lingered. The soft tremble wrapped in fear but it had the gall to stand against me.

Her words shouldn't have mattered. Shouldn’t have reached me at all. But it did—like the echo of something she didn’t know she’d drawn.

I walked slowly, my steps silent against the black marble floor. Every corner of this hall bent to my will. I had built it that way. Power wasn’t simply taken; it was carved, stitched into walls, poured into air thick enough to make even the brave hesitate.

Valentina hadn't hesitated, not in the way I expected.

She should have broken. Instead, she looked me in the eye. Quiet. Unmoving. Unshaken.

I didn’t like the feeling that twisted somewhere beneath my ribs.

Weak men called it admiration. I called it irritation.

She should have thanked me. For sparing her. For elevating her to my table when she belonged nowhere. For choosing her above hundreds who would have died for the privilege.

I passed two guards near the western hall, nodded once, and they fell into step behind me like trained hounds. The hall was quiet. Like it was holding its breath.

The Grandhall door was shut now. Empty. Sterile. Just as I had left it. I didn’t return to my chamber. Not yet. The fury hadn’t cooled.

I stopped near the bottom of the long staircase and turned to my Beta, who had followed with his usual mute devotion.

“Find the woman,” I said quietly.

He didn’t ask which one. He didn’t need to.

“The one who insulted her,” I clarified anyway, because this rage—this cold, coiled thing demanded precision.

He gave a single nod. “She’s to be brought to the cellars. Intact.”

A pause. “Until I’m ready.”

His eyes flickered, a question unspoken. But he was smart. Loyal. He didn’t voice it.

I walked on. The cellars were never built for wine. That had always been a lie.

The public tours called it the lower east vault. The servants knew it as the quiet wing. But the truth was simpler. Harsher.

It was where voices were broken. Where names were forgotten.

I didn’t come here often. Not anymore. Most people learned without requiring this space. But tonight… tonight I wanted the silence that walls like this provided.

Thick. Stone. Generational. There was something deeply satisfying about being beneath everything, the truth didn’t need dressing. Down here, the crown didn’t matter. Power just was.

The room they placed her in was the smallest one no chains. No iron collar. Not yet. She wasn’t worth metal.

Just a single chair. One door. One long shadow stretching from where I stood.

She sat there now. The woman with the honeyed voice and sharpened tongue. She wore her silk gown like armor, but her posture betrayed her. She was waiting too long between breaths.

Her name? I didn’t remember. Didn’t care.

She was one of the council daughters. Or maybe a merchant heir with too much perfume and too little discipline. It didn’t matter. Her bloodline wouldn’t to protect her here.

The door clicked as I stepped in. She rose quickly. Too quickly. “Alpha Ryker, I—”

“No.” My voice was low. Controlled. “You don’t speak until I ask.”

Her lips parted. Then shut. Her eyes widened the way prey did— realizing too late it had wandered off limits.

I stood in front of her, watching her struggle to maintain composure. She looked for cues. Tried to read me. Everyone always tried.

But you can’t read ice.

“You speak,” I said, “as though your words means something.”

She didn’t respond. “You insulted my bride at my table. You declared a verdict you weren’t asked to give.”

Still, she said nothing. Smart. But not smart enough to stop herself earlier. I leaned closer, speaking in a voice barely louder than thought.

“Tell me. Do you believe I’m a man who tolerates noise?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed. “I didn’t mean it—”

“I said don’t speak.”

The silence snapped back into place. Heavy. Whole.

I watched her carefully. Her gown shimmered, but she didn’t. Everything about her felt curated, artificial. The women at that table had grown too comfortable. They’d forgotten what real fear felt like.

She’d called Valentina pathetic. Pathetic.

When she herself had never stood without her family’s name beneath her feet.

Valentina stood alone. Dressed in silk she didn’t choose. Surrounded by wolves. With no idea why she’d been summoned to my side. And still—still she held herself without breaking.

That woman had courage she didn’t even understand yet.

This one? This one had a mouth that needed remembering.

I walked to the corner of the room and picked up the small, polished case that sat beside the door. It looked harmless. A gift box. But inside it were the tools I reserved for lessons.

I opened it. And the woman’s breath caught audibly. Her fear came too late.

She stepped back, just once. Enough to show me the truth of her strength.

I didn’t speak again for a long moment. I held a silver pin between two fingers thin, elegant. It had no sharp edge. Not really. Just a fine point and a cold gleam.

“I’m not going to harm you,” I said.

Her breath wavered in relief.

“Not yet.” The relief vanished.

I walked toward her slowly, dragging the silence with me like a second shadow. When I stood close enough to feel her tremble, I offered her the pin.

She didn’t take it.

“You enjoy speaking,” I said. “Good. Then I want to hear you explain why you believed you had the right to judge the woman I claimed.”

“I—I didn’t know—”

“That she was mine?”

Her voice shrank to a whisper. “Yes.”

I leaned close. “Then let me make this part clear.”

I lifted the pin and gently placed it into the fold of her gown, near her collarbone.

“You are not to speak her name again. Not in my presence. Not in any place in this pack. You will look at her and remember this moment. And you will remember how lucky you are that I consider her insulted pride beneath my wrath—for now.”

Her lips trembled. She nodded, wordless.

“I asked you a question earlier,” I said quietly. “Do you think I tolerate noise?”

She shook her head. I smiled faintly. Cold. Hollow.

“Then stop being noise.” I turned, walking toward the door.

Just before I opened it, I spoke once more without looking back.

“Return to the upper chambers. And when others ask why your hands are shaking… tell them the truth.”

Just enough cracked to know what came next if the lesson didn’t take.

Later, I left alone toward the garden tower. The wind was sharp. It tasted like coming snow.

Valentina must have returned to the room because her window was dark, but I knew she hadn’t slept. She wouldn’t. Not yet. She was probably still in that too-soft chair, her eyes probably fixed on the edge of the bed she didn’t want.

Her words still echoed in my head.

I had claimed her for strategy. That was all. My stepbrother’s return had changed everything. The Council was shifting. Bloodlines were being questioned. And I needed something unpredictable. Something unpolished. Something real.

Valentina was all of those things.

But now, for the first time, I wondered Had I chosen her because she was real… or because she reminded me of something I had once been? Or because I wanted revenge I wasn't sure I would continue.

I closed my eyes. The thought was dangerous. And I was never careless with danger.