Chapter 10: Lukas

I sat motionless upon the ancient throne, carved from the heartwood of the first tree that grew in these lands, if the legends were to be believed. My back never touched its support—a king does not rest during judgment. Below me, the throne room hummed with the barely restrained excitement of the assembled crowd: nobles, warriors, and visiting dignitaries who had arrived early for this evening's ball, drawn by the promise of blood and justice dispensed by their Alpha King's hand. Their hunger for spectacle disgusted me, but I kept my expression impassive. A king reveals nothing.

'They come to watch death,' Ares growled in my mind, his disdain matching my own. 'Like vultures circling carrion.'

'They come to see strength,' I corrected silently. 'To be reminded why they fear us.'

The massive ironwood doors swung open, and a hush fell over the crowd. Dominic entered first, his scarred face betraying nothing as he led the first group of prisoners into the center of the room. Five rogues—filthy, bound with silver, their expressions ranging from defiance to terror—were forced to their knees before my throne.

Dominic bowed precisely, the movement crisp and economical. "My King, I present the first group of prisoners for your judgment. These five were captured attempting to infiltrate the northeastern perimeter. When questioned, they admitted to planning the poisoning of the city's water supply with wolfsbane extract."

I studied them dispassionately, noting the hard set of their jaws, the calculating look in their eyes. Ares stirred within me, his bloodlust rising. These were no desperate outcasts driven to theft by hunger—these were terrorists who would have killed indiscriminately, including the children of my city.

"Do any of you wish to speak before judgment is passed?" My voice echoed in the suddenly silent hall.

One of them—a woman with matted gray hair and hate-filled eyes—spat on the floor before my throne. "We regret only failure, tyrant. Others will succeed where we—"

I moved before she could finish, crossing the distance between us in a blur of speed that drew gasps from the audience. My hand closed around her throat, lifting her from her knees until her feet dangled above the ground, her eyes bulging as she clawed uselessly at my grip with her bound hands.

"I, Lukas Volkov, Alpha King of the Northern Territories, find you guilty of conspiracy against the crown," I pronounced, my voice carrying to every corner of the vast chamber. "The sentence is death."

With a single twist, I separated her head from her body. Blood sprayed across the polished stone floor as I dropped both parts, already turning to the next prisoner. He tried to scramble backward, but Dominic's guards held him firmly in place.

One by one, I executed the remaining four—efficiently, without hesitation or ceremony. This was not sport; it was justice. The crowd watched in silence, some with hands pressed to mouths, others leaning forward with undisguised fascination.

When the last body fell, I returned to my throne, gesturing for the attendants to remove the corpses. Blood stained my hands to the wrists, splattered across my chest and face, but I made no move to clean it. Let the next group see what awaited them.

'Good,' Ares approved, his satisfaction a warm current beneath my cold exterior. 'Swift death for those who threaten the pack.'

Dominic waited until the bodies were cleared before signaling for the next group to be brought forward. Six males entered, their expressions already defeated. They knew what was coming.

"My King," Dominic began, "these six were apprehended as a unit attempting to breach the palace walls three nights ago. They carried weapons coated with silver nitrate and maps of the royal living quarters. Under interrogation, they confessed to an assassination plot funded by the former Beta of the Crimson Pack."

Political assassins. The Crimson Pack had chafed under my rule since I'd executed their Alpha for oath-breaking five years ago. Their continued defiance had grown tiresome.

"The Crimson Beta will answer for this," I said, rising once more. "After I've dealt with his puppets."

This time, I took my time. These deaths needed to send a message beyond simple justice. I removed my shirt, handing it to an attendant, and stepped barefoot into the center of the ring of prisoners. Ares pushed closer to the surface, lending me his strength, his rage, his primal hunger for dominance.

"I find you guilty of treason against the crown," I announced, then added with deadly softness: "Run."

Confusion flickered across their faces, then understanding as I gestured to the guards to cut their bonds. The silver cuffs fell away, and they stood unbound before me—a false hope I granted purely for the message it would send when the recording of this execution reached the Crimson Beta.

One made a break for the crowd, thinking to lose himself among the spectators. I caught him before he'd taken three steps, my hand punching through his ribcage from behind, tearing out his heart in a spray of crimson. I turned with his heart still clutched in my fist to find another charging me directly, thinking perhaps that courage might save him where cowardice had failed his companion.

It did not.

One by one, I tore them apart—literally—removing limbs, shattering spines, ensuring each death was more graphic than the last. The throne room floor ran with blood by the time I finished, standing amidst the carnage with my chest heaving not from exertion but from Ares's bloodlust, his savage joy in defending what was ours.

The crowd's silence had deepened, awe replacing excitement. This was why I ruled—not just through political acumen or birthright, but through unmatched dominance. I could feel their fear, their respect, their relief that my violence was directed at enemies rather than them.

I returned to the throne, accepting a cloth to wipe the worst of the blood from my skin, though I did not bother with a fresh shirt. Let the remaining prisoners see the monster that awaited them.

The third group entered while attendants hurried to clear the second batch of remains. Four rogues—three men and one woman—their expressions hollow with the certainty of their fate.

"These four were caught separately," Dominic explained, "each attempting to steal from city residents. Repeat offenders, all of them, previously banished from their original packs for similar offenses."

Thieves. Common criminals rather than conspirators or assassins. Their deaths would be quick, their crimes not warranting the spectacle I'd made of the others.

"Guilty," I pronounced, not bothering with individual sentences. 

I moved among them with efficient brutality, snapping necks rather than dismembering. They died without resistance, already broken by their time in the cells, by the display of violence they'd witnessed. The crowd seemed almost disappointed by the anticlimactic nature of these executions, but I cared nothing for their entertainment.

As these bodies were removed, I sensed a shift in the atmosphere of the throne room. Elder Nora, who had been watching silently from her position near my throne, leaned forward slightly, her ancient eyes sharp with interest. Dominic's posture changed subtly as he prepared to present the final group.

"The last prisoners, my King," he announced, a strange note in his voice I couldn't quite identify. "Four males and one female, captured together at the southern border. They were armed with wolfsbane darts and hunting equipment."

The five entered, and my attention was immediately drawn to the female walking at the back of the group. Unlike the others, who shuffled forward with the defeated gait of the condemned, she walked with her head high, shoulders squared despite the silver cuffs binding her wrists. Her copper hair, though tangled and dull from captivity, caught the light from the throne room windows. When she raised her eyes, their vivid green seemed to pierce directly through me.

"This group is unusual, my King," Dominic continued. "The female was initially combative, requiring sedation. She claims to have been captured by the males, not to be part of their group."

The girl shook her head slightly, her eyes flashing with a brief spark of anger before she turned away, as if she'd already accepted that her truth meant nothing here.

I stepped down from the dais, drawn to her despite myself. The other prisoners flinched away as I passed, but she remained still, gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the throne room walls.

"Look at me," I commanded, my voice quiet but carrying the full weight of my authority.

She ignored me—whether from defiance or resignation, I couldn't tell. Unaccustomed to being disregarded, I reached out, grasping her chin between my bloodied fingers and forcing her face up to mine.

Green eyes met blue, and the world stopped.

'MATE! MATE! MATE!' Ares's voice exploded in my mind, a deafening roar that nearly brought me to my knees. 'OURS! OURS! OURS!'

I froze, the shock rippling through me like an earthquake. Impossible. A rogue girl—a criminal awaiting execution in my throne room—could not be my fated mate. The universe would not be so cruel, so mocking, so utterly perverse.

Yet Ares's recognition was absolute, undeniable. This copper-haired girl with defiant eyes was the other half of my soul, the mate I had waited seventy-six years to find.

I dropped my hand from her face as if burned, taking an instinctive step backward. Confusion flickered across her expression, quickly masked by wariness. She hadn't felt it—the silver cuffs were blocking the mate bond from forming on her side. A small mercy amidst catastrophe.

Rage surged through me, directed not at her but at the circumstances, at the cruel joke of fate. I turned that fury on the four males who had dared to capture and cage my mate, my vision washing red as Ares howled for their blood.

I tore into them with a savagery that silenced even the bloodthirsty crowd. Limbs flew. Blood painted the walls. Screams cut short as throats were ripped out. I killed with the mindless fury of a wolf defending what was his, barely registering their pleas, seeing only threats to be eliminated.

When I finished, standing amidst their scattered remains, chest heaving, I became aware of the absolute silence that had fallen over the throne room. Every eye was fixed on me—some in terror, some in confusion. I had never lost control during an execution. Never displayed such personal rage.

I turned to find Dominic watching me with his one good eye narrowed in speculation, and Elder Nora's face alight with sudden understanding.

"Take the girl to my office," I ordered, my voice rough from Ares's proximity to the surface. "This tribunal is concluded. The spectacle is over."

Without another word, I strode from the throne room, leaving behind whispers and speculation and the copper-haired girl who had just upended my entire existence.