Chapter Thirty-nine: Threats 2

VARUL

“I dare you.”

The challenge hung in the frozen air of the chamber.

Halvar did not back down. Foolish pride, born of decades serving under a tyrant, hardened his jaw. He opened his mouth, his lips forming the first syllable of my father’s name.

He never finished it.

I moved. The thin veneer of royal composure I had maintained for years shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.

Before Halvar could blink, my hand shot forward. My fingers clamped around his throat like an iron vise.

The crack of his back striking the stone pillar behind him echoed through the council chamber.

The thick muscles of his neck compressed under my grip as I lifted him cleanly off his feet, driving him upward until his boots dangled a foot above the stone floor.

A collective gasp tore through the room. The scent of fear flooded the chamber.

Halvar’s hands instantly flew to my wrist, his fingers clawing frantically at my skin, but it was like trying to pry apart solid rock. His cocky defiance vanished, replaced by sheer, blinding panic as his face rapidly turned a mottled, bruised purple.

“Alpha, stop! Let him go!” Darren’s voice slammed into my mind, sharp and desperate through our telepathic mind link. “You’re going to kill him! If you snap his neck, Halvar’s entire faction will rebel. We’ll have a civil war on our hands! Varul, answer me!”

I didn’t just ignore him; I actively built a wall of pure rage in my mind, slamming the door shut on my Beta’s voice and blocking him out completely. I didn’t want diplomacy. I didn’t want rational thought.

Siren surged forward with a savage snarl that drowned out every remaining coherent thought. Siren had wanted blood the half-dead scouts arrived from Linewatch. Since Halvar had threatened our mate. Since the first corpse had been laid at my feet. Since I had looked into the sightless eyes of wolves who had trusted me to keep them alive.

Now he had found someone to punish.

Around us, the chamber dissolved into a violent uproar. Chairs scraped and overturned. Lords yelled, and guards drew their weapons in sheer confusion. Darren lunged forward to intervene, his face pale with dread, but the moment he entered a three-foot radius of us, he hit an invisible wall.

Lords staggered backward as though struck by a physical blow. Several collapsed to one knee, breathing hard beneath the crushing dominance pouring from me.

My Alpha aura exploded outward, a crushing, suffocating wave of dominant energy so dense it physically drop-kicked the air out of the room. It was an evolutionary alpha command made manifest—a psychic weight that brought the lesser wolves in the room crashing to their knees or freezing them entirely in place. Darren groaned, his teeth gritted as he fought against the invisible pressure, completely paralyzed. No one could touch me. No one could stop me.

“P-please…” Halvar wheezed, a pathetic, choked sound. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and swimming with tears, his tongue protruding slightly from his purpling lips.

I looked at him, and I didn't see a lord. I saw prey. My vision bled into pitch black, the sclera of my eyes completely overtaken by Siren’s dark gaze. A terrifying, feral smile stretched across my face. I extended my claws, letting the elongated, razor-sharp bones dig deep into the sides of Halvar’s neck.

Warm, metallic blood welled up around my fingertips, trickling down his collarbone and dripping onto the oak table below.

Snap it, Siren whispered, a dark, rhythmic chant in my skull. Snap his neck. Show them who rules the North.

I didn't care about the political fallout. I didn't care about the fractured factions or the looming threat of war. In this fleeting second of madness, let the kingdom burn. Let them all bleed.

Halvar’s boots kicked helplessly in the air.

His fingers dug desperately into my forearm, trying to pry me loose.

Pathetic.

A smile pulled at my lips.

Not my smile.

Siren’s.

I tightened my hold.

Just a little more.

One twist.

One sharp movement.

His neck would snap.

Then, a scent cut through the metallic stench of old blood and wet wool.

It was faint at first, then overwhelming…jasmine, winter lilies, and the distinct, intoxicating warmth of summer skin. Sigrun.

Before my brain could process how she was even in the room, I felt the light, unmistakable weight of a small hand settling firmly onto my tense shoulder.

“Varul,” her voice gasped out, trembling but fiercely clear. “Please, let him go. You’ll kill him.”

The words didn't just ring in the room; they shattered the bloodthirsty haze in my mind like a rock through glass. The pitch-black void in my eyes receded, the feral warmth of Siren retreating into the dark corners of my consciousness.

My fingers abruptly unclasped.

Halvar dropped like a sack of wet flour, crumpling to the stone floor in a pathetic heap. He clutched his bleeding neck, hacking, wheezing, and drawing massive, desperate gulps of air into his burning lungs.

I stood frozen, my breath rattling in my chest as my claws slowly receded back beneath my cuticles. I looked down at my hand, stained with Halvar’s blood, and then slowly turned my head.

Sigrun stood right beside me. Her chest was rising and falling in rapid, terrified breaths, her pale face flushed from the exertion. She was trembling, but her green eyes held mine with a fierce intensity.

She look more concerned than afraid.

A heavy, dead silence collapsed over the council chamber. The shouting had stopped. The groaning had stopped.

My breathing came hard.

Every lord was staring, their gazes darting from Halvar’s shivering form on the floor to the southern princess standing at my flank.

Because they all knew what should have happened.

My Alpha aura had been deployed at lethal capacity—a crushing force specifically designed to paralyze full-grown, dominant werewolves. Yet Sigrun, a human with no physical defense, had walked right through it. She hadn't just endured it; she had physically touched me and broken my beast's hold.

Even Darren was looking between Sigrún and me as though seeing us for the first time.

An uneasy silence settled over the council.

Questions hung unspoken in every pair of eyes.

I looked once at Halvar, still dragging desperate breaths into bruised lungs.

Then at the horrified faces surrounding the table.

My voice came out rough. “Council dismissed.”

Immediately scraped violently across stone as lords hurried toward the doors, each pretending not to flee.

Within moments, the chamber was emptying.

I turned without another word and strode from the room, listening to the soft set of her footsteps keeping pace with mine.