Tribute To The Alpha

AKIRA’S POV

Before I could steady myself, a rough hand yanked me up by my collar. My feet didn’t walk—they dragged.

Every single jerk forward felt like fire, but it was my back that made me want to scream. The whip had sliced straight through my dress, gluing the torn fabric to open, bleeding flesh. With every step the guard took, the cloth pulled at the wounds, tearing them open all over again.

I bit my inside cheek, swallowing the taste of my own blood.

“Move your legs!” the soldier shouted, throwing me hard against the wall at the base of the stairs. “The Alpha is waiting for you.”

I didn't cry or beg. Years in this palace had beaten both out of me. Crying earned more blows. Begging earned laughter. When everyone in the pack has branded you a curse, silence is the only thing you have left to protect yourself.

They pushed me through the upper hallways, and the moment we entered the main corridors, the usual chatter from the servants died down.

People stopped dead in their tracks to stare.

“Such a shame. She killed her own mother, and that is the reason the moon goddess seized her wolf,” a maid whispered, leaning into another’s ear, her face twisted in disgust.

I kept my head down, focusing entirely on putting one foot in front of the other. As I stumbled past, a kitchen maid quickly gathered her long skirts and stepped back into the wall, making sure not a single inch of her clothes brushed against my bloody shirt.

Ten years ago, my mother was murdered. They found me beside her body and decided I was the killer. No matter how much I begged, they refused to believe me.

“Move,” one of the guards yelled, pushing me into the room. My weak legs gave out, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I hit the marble floor.

No one offered me a chair. Everyone else was comfortably seated, looking at me while I stood alone in the center of the room, my blood dripping onto their clean floor.

Up on the stage, Alpha Adonis sat on his throne like a judge waiting to hand down a death sentence. Elena, my stepmother, sat beside him, her face completely smooth and untroubled. Next to her was Madura, my stepsister, looking unusually pale. She gave me an assuring nod the minute our gaze locked together.

That tiny nod was how we communicated whenever others were watching. Madura had always been everything this pack admired. She awakened her wolf on time, excelled in everything, and everyone adored her. I understood why.

My eyes moved to find someone else, Elijah, the Beta’s son, who was seated amongst the elders. His jaw tightened the moment he saw the blood soaking through my clothes.

He had always hated how unfairly the pack treated me and promised to take me far away one day.

We'd loved each other in secret for two years. According to him, if anyone discovered the Beta’s son was involved with the cursed princess, his father’s position could be destroyed.

“We have a problem.” Adonis’ voice pulled me out of my thoughts. “Alpha Kradamian Nightingale of the Bloodmoon Pack has demanded the Crown Princess as his tribute this year."

Gasps rippled across the room.

“The Crown Princess?” an elder shrieked, standing up so fast his chair scraped the floor. “No—no. We cannot give them our future!”

“If we refuse, that wicked man will slaughter us!” a general yelled, slamming his hand on the table. “Alpha Kradamian never loses a war. Saying no to him means the end of this entire pack.”

“He will kill us in our sleep!” a noble screamed.

The shouting grew louder, fear turning the entire court into a screaming match.

But the noise around me faded into a dull hum.

The Bloodmoon Pack.

A cold chill ran down my spine.

Even before I understood politics, I knew that name. Everyone in Nightveil did. They said the Bloodmoon Pack had never lost a war since Alpha Kradamian took the throne ten years ago.

They called him a ruthless monster who only understood blood and blades. They said he took lives without hesitation and that mercy was a word he had never learned. Every kingdom that stood against him eventually fell to its knees.

A cold sweat broke out over my skin, and my chest tightened so hard I couldn't get a single breath in. The thought of being handed over to that monster made my lungs shut down.

“Silence!” Elena’s voice rang out.

The room went quiet instantly. After looking at the elders, she turned to me with contempt in her eyes.

“There is no need to lose our heads over a situation with a solution.” Calmness covered every word. “Even though Madura holds the title of Crown Princess, we have to look at what is best for our future. Akira…” Elena paused, her eyes slowly scanning my bleeding, broken body. “Akira has no wolf. She has never done anything for this pack, and she never will. It only makes sense to send Akira instead.”

I watched the terror vanish from the faces of the elders.

“The Luna is right,” an elder nodded, looking relieved. “Why sacrifice our future alpha when the wolfless one can go?”

Something broke inside me. It wasn't just pain—it was a cold, hollow emptiness. No one defended me; in fact, they were completely unmoved, choosing to hand me over to that monster. The weight of it crashed down on me, and my legs finally gave out.

Before I could hit the floor, a pair of arms caught me.

Elijah crossed the room in a blur, catching me before I hit the floor. His hands avoided the raw wounds on my back as he steadied me.

“Akira, breathe,” he whispered.

I clutched his sleeves and fought to draw air into my lungs.

“No! I can’t let you do this!” A scream came from the stage.

I forced my eyes open and saw Madura stepping forward, tears streaming down her face. Before anyone could react, Madura snatched the ceremonial knife beside the throne and pressed it against her neck.

“I will kill myself before letting any of you take her,” she sobbed. “I won’t let my sister be sacrificed for me.”

The exact second the knife touched Madura’s skin, Elijah let me go. I stumbled into the pillar behind me as his warmth disappeared.

“Madura!” he shouted.

In seconds, he was beside her, wrenching the knife from her hand before pulling her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest, sobbing as he held her close, whispering into her hair to quiet her down.

I leaned against the pillar, trying to steady my breathing. My heart ached as I watched my sister break down.

After a minute, Madura’s crying slowed to a whimper. Elijah stepped back slightly, but his hand stayed gripped around her waist to keep her steady. He looked down from the stage at me, his eyes wide with panic.

“There has to be another way.” Elijah’s tone rose. “None of them has to go.”

Madura looked up from his chest, her face wet with tears. “You can send me instead, but I'll not let anyone take Akira. She’s suffered enough already."

A small, painful warmth spread through my chest. In this entire hateful palace, they were the only two willing to fight for my life.

I turned my head slowly to look at the throne. My father sat there like a statue. No word, not even a finger, was raised to defend his eldest daughter. He was just sitting there, waiting for me to say the words so he wouldn't have to carry the guilt of destroying his own pack.

I looked back at Elijah and Madura. If I said no, the Bloodmoon Pack would march on us. They would take Madura anyway, or kill everyone. Elijah would die fighting a war he couldn't win. They wanted to save me, but they had no power against the court.

Ignoring the biting pull of the injuries on my back, I forced myself to stand up straight, stepped away from the pillar, and stood alone in the center of the floor.

“I will go,” I announced. My voice wasn't loud, but in the room, it cut through the air. “I will be the tribute.”

Alpha Adonis stood up immediately, before I could even take a breath to change my mind. “The matter is settled,” he declared, his voice empty. “Prepare the girl. The Bloodmoon warriors will be here in two hours to collect her.”