Chapter 4: Murderer

ALEXANDER

When I was expecting the worst, I heard Alpha Damon say, “I am not going to reject Alexander Gideon as my mate.”

I didn’t know whether to feel happy or relieved, but I knew one thing for sure—I was grinning. I didn’t care what the Elders said after that.

My mind ran ahead of me, painting a life where Alpha Damon was mine. Would he treat me better than my parents ever did? Would he buy me new clothes? Would I finally be given real food—not scraps and leftovers from the household?

I was still clinging to that sweet fantasy when a sharp, prickling pain flared at the back of my neck. My dream shattered into a nightmare.

Warm breath brushed my left ear.

He was close—too close. His presence swallowed all the air in the room. I couldn’t breathe. My heart slammed wildly against my ribs, climbing into my throat as panic flooded me.

“I will make you regret ever being fated to me, Alexander,” he whispered. “You’ll beg for death, but you won’t get it from me. You will never be the Luna of this pack, because you’re going to be…”

Weakness washed through my body. Goosebumps rose on my skin. Then his voice turned even colder as he finished, each word a blade.

“You’re going to be the pack’s sex slave. You’ll warm the beds of my horny warriors, then I’ll send you to entertain diplomats. You will be nothing but a tool for pleasure.”

My body gave out.

I hit the floor and realized the only reason I’d been standing at all was because of his grip at the back of my neck. My legs had already stopped obeying me. Fear—real fear—rushed in, the kind I hadn’t felt in years.

His words looped in my head as I forced myself upright. When I looked again, he was gone.

I stumbled out of the council hall and ran. Every few steps I had to stop, gasping for air. By the time I reached home, my legs burned with pain, and my lungs felt empty—like I’d left all my breath behind somewhere on that long run.

I sat on my father’s statue in the courtyard to catch my breath and rest my aching legs. My head hung low. Something struck me—more startling than painful. When I looked down, an orange lay between my feet. Another one hit me.

I lifted my head and heard children’s voices, whispering and snickering.

“Her wolf is dead.”

“My mom always warned me not to end up like her.”

“Why is she so fat and ugly?”

I lowered my gaze again. I was used to it. Insults were as normal as breathing in this pack.

Then one of them said, “I heard she’s the one who killed her half-sister, Trac—”

Adrenaline flooded my body—fear, rage, something sharp and hot that yanked strength back into my legs. I surged to my feet, glared at them, and screamed until my throat burned.

“Liars! All of you are liars! I didn’t kill my sister! I didn’t! It’s a lie!”

To my surprise, they scattered, fleeing like startled birds. The moment they were gone, my strength vanished too, and I sank back onto the statue, shaking. When my heartbeat finally slowed, I forced myself up and walked home.

I opened the front door and stepped into the sitting room.

My father and my stepmother were there.

Dad’s face was dark, his brows drawn tight with displeasure. He looked furious. Jezebel lounged with a glass of wine in her hand, eyes half-lidded, the air around her heavy with laziness and something reckless. The sour-thick smell of alcohol told me she was drunk—again.

Whatever they’d been talking about, whatever tension filled the room, I couldn’t focus on it. Alpha Damon’s words echoed in my head, pressing on my chest.

I blurted it out before I could stop myself. “Dad, I don’t want to marry Alpha Damon.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the air turned crushingly still. Cold sweat broke across my skin.

My father’s eyes widened, his voice rising. “What did you just say?”

Jezebel burst into hysterical laughter.

I clenched my fists. My hands trembled, but I forced the words out. “He doesn’t want to make me his—”

“I don’t care,” Dad snapped, cutting me off. “I don’t care what excuse you think you have, or what reason you want to give. You are going to be Alpha Damon’s wife. And when he comes to take you, you will go with him.”

His jaw tightened, his expression hard with annoyance. Without another word, he turned and strode up the staircase.

The moment my dad disappeared from view, my stepmother staggered to her feet, fingers clamped around her glass, the red liquid inside sloshing dangerously. She fixed her gaze on me and hissed, “Murderer!”

I didn’t dare argue. I didn’t even dare breathe too loudly. I only lowered my head and listened in silence. I was terrified of Jezebel.

“You think after killing my daughter you’ll become Luna and enjoy all the good things in life?” she said, her voice low and venomous. “I’ll never allow it.”

A cold chill crawled down my spine. I didn’t doubt her for a second.

Before my father married Jezebel, her influence rivaled his. She’d led the castle’s defense against invaders more times than I could count. She had the loyalty of the pack’s women—access to them, sway over them—and the frightening part was how they adored her, how they obeyed her. That was why my father married her, even over my mother’s protests.

And when my mother took her own life, he didn’t blink. He didn’t budge.