Chapter 22: Lukas

I guided Amelia through the palace corridors, her hand still clasped in mine. Blood stained the hem of her dress, Victoria's final mark upon her, though this one she wore like a badge of honor rather than a wound. Her steps matched mine, unhurried and steady. No trembling, no hesitation, no tears for the woman whose heart I had torn out minutes before. Pride swelled in my chest. My queen had witnessed wolf justice in its rawest form and hadn't flinched away. More than that – she had sanctioned it, approved it, found satisfaction in it.

'She is perfect,' Ares crowed in my mind, his satisfaction rolling through our shared consciousness like thunder. 'Did you see her eyes? Gold-green. Athena wanted blood too.'

Indeed, the memory of Amelia's eyes shifting in the throne room replayed in my mind – that moment when Athena had surged forward, predatory instinct overriding human sensibilities. Not entirely, though. There had been control there, restraint born not of fear but of choice. She had chosen to let me deliver justice rather than demand it herself.

We reached our suite, guards snapping to attention as we approached. One opened the door, bowing low as we passed. The moment we crossed the threshold, Amelia released my hand, moving with purposeful steps toward the balcony. I watched her go, noting the rigid set of her shoulders, the careful way she held herself – composed, controlled, processing.

'She struggles with what she felt,' Ares observed, for once showing insight beyond his usual bloodlust. 'Enjoyed it. Doesn't want to admit.'

I removed my formal jacket, draping it over a chair, then followed her path to the balcony. She stood with her back to me, hands gripping the stone balustrade, gaze fixed on the distant mountains. The wind caught strands of her copper hair, lifting them like flames around her face. She'd removed her shoes, standing barefoot on the cool stone, the hem of her blood-stained dress rippling in the breeze.

I joined her at the railing, allowing silence to settle between us. Sometimes the absence of words said more than any conversation could.

"Your thoughts?" I asked finally, curious to hear what lay beneath her carefully maintained composure.

She laughed, a short, humorless sound that carried on the wind. "Which ones? There are many." Her fingers rubbed absently at her forehead, as if trying to massage away conflicting emotions. "Athena wanted to rip her apart herself. Or, to help Ares do it." She glanced at me sideways. "I'm not sure how I feel about that."

Ares stirred at the mention of Athena joining our hunt, images flashing through his consciousness – copper and black wolves running side by side, tearing through enemies together, her massive form nearly matching his own size. The fantasy pleased him immensely.

"She put you through a lot, little luna," I said, carefully keeping Ares's more vivid imaginings to myself. "You're allowed to be conflicted."

She turned to face me fully, searching my expression with those remarkable green eyes. "Are you conflicted, Lukas?" My name on her lips still felt like a small victory, an intimacy granted rather than taken.

"No," I replied honestly. "She hurt my mate. Her death was justice, nothing more." I paused, considering what she needed in this moment – not just strength, but understanding. "But when I was new to this... yes, at times, I was conflicted."

Surprise flickered across her features. "You were?"

I nodded, turning to rest my elbows on the balustrade, eyes scanning the kingdom spread out below us. "The first execution I ordered as King – not carried out in battle or challenge, but cold justice delivered from the throne – I vomited afterward." A confession I'd never shared with another living soul. "A traitor. His death was necessary, deserved, and still I questioned myself."

"What changed?" she asked softly.

"Nothing changed," I said. "I simply accepted that justice requires strength. That mercy without purpose is merely weakness. That sometimes, blood is the only language our enemies understand."

She absorbed this in silence, her gaze thoughtful. After several moments, she moved closer, the space between us shrinking until her arm nearly touched mine. "Thank you," she said simply.

"For killing her?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"For being honest." She smiled faintly. "For not pretending you've always been the unflinching monster they all believe you to be."

I chuckled, the sound startling a bird from its perch on the balcony railing. "Don't tell anyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

Her smile widened, reaching her eyes for perhaps the first time since I'd claimed her. We stood together in companionable silence, watching as the sun began its descent toward the western mountains. The kingdom stretched before us, forests and villages and distant pack territories that would one day answer to her as they now answered to me.

'Take her to bed,' Ares urged, his patience wearing thin. 'Make her ours.'

His desire flooded through me, heightening my awareness of Amelia's proximity – the subtle scent of her skin, the rhythm of her breathing, the pulse visible at her throat where my mark stood out against her pale skin. I'd been patient, allowing her to heal, to adjust, to come to terms with her new position. But Ares was right – she had accepted her place at my side today. Had stood as my Queen before the court. Had sanctioned the execution of her enemy.

The time for waiting was over.

Tonight.