Chapter 34

ALPHA TRISTAN 

The moment Sara finished mending my shattered body and walked away, the gentle, rhythmic sway of her hips did something profound to my psyche—something primal and deeply unsettling. My wolf had not stopped pacing since that very second. He was no longer the silent observer in the back of my mind; instead, he was a restless predator, filling my thoughts with a low, dangerous growl that pulsed with a singular, possessive rhythm: mine, mine, mine.

This relentless internal pressure was what had necessitated my need to see her again, and soon. I had formally declared that she was to be my personal attendant, tending to my recovery every single day. On the surface, it was a logical order—she was the only healer who truly understood the nature of the toxin. But in the dark corners of my heart, I knew the truth: I simply wanted the opportunity to touch her again. I wanted to feel that delicate, surprisingly soft skin under my calloused palms once more.

Strangely, Sara must have sensed the shift in the atmosphere. She began creating subtle avenues and excuses where it became increasingly difficult for me to find her alone. She seemed to time her visits to my chambers only when she was certain that Yvonne was by my side, which, given Yvonne’s role as my Right Hand, happened to be almost constantly.

Yvonne was sharp—sharper than I often gave her credit for. She must have seen my predatory movements and accurately read my shifting intentions. I couldn't be entirely sure what she was thinking, but I knew with a chilling certainty that things would turn catastrophic if Yvonne realized the full extent of my growing obsession. I had plans for Sara, yes. I had seen ways to put her to use beyond making her a mere domesticated slave.

In my pack, being a "slave" in the upper house was often a position of relative luxury. My domestic staff enjoyed certain graces, privileges, and protections that made them feel more like free citizens than captives. But that wasn't what I wanted for Sara Lockwood. A comfortable life was not degrading or humiliating enough for the woman who had supposedly stolen the life of my Claudia.

In a bid to finalize my long-term plans, I had focused on ensuring that Alpha Rune would forget she ever existed. When I received word this morning that the Conqueror had completely fallen for our alchemical lie—that he had locked himself in a dark room to mourn and had handed the reins of the Crescent Moon to Kayvon and Carmen—I knew victory was within my grasp. It was only a matter of time before he withdrew his spies from the Twilight Zone entirely.

Flushed with this triumph, I decided to visit Sara’s meager quarters to gloat. This was the first real breakthrough I had experienced in weeks, and I wanted her to feel the weight of her new reality. She wasn't there when I first arrived, but I waited. My lust was firmly in the driver's seat now, steering my common sense into the ditch.

When she finally entered and I told her the news—that the world, including her beloved Alpha Rune, believed she was nothing but a pile of ash—she didn't give me the reaction I craved. There was no hopeless weeping, no helpless collapse. Her stoicism made me feel a surge of irritation, so I stepped closer, rephrasing the nightmare I was building for her.

"You’re all mine now," I whispered into the shell of her ear, my voice thick with a dark promise. "No more rescue parties. No more Conquerors. Just you and me in this house of secrets."

I leaned into the implication, and seeing that she still refused to show the fear I demanded, I decided to become more assertive. I wrapped my arms around her from behind, relishing how her smaller frame felt pinned against my massive chest. Her skin was incredibly soft, almost succulent to the touch, and the loose, thin sundress she wore made it far too easy for me to feel the heat of her body.

My palms slid down to her rear cheeks, and I gave them a firm, territorial squeeze. I felt a surge of triumph; my wolf was practically howling with glee. She tried to wiggle away, her movements frantic for a moment, but I held her fast. Eventually, she seemed to resign herself to the violation, her body going heavy as she accepted her fate.

As she stilled, her body seemed to melt into mine. Her braless breasts pressed against the hard muscle of my chest, and that low growl—mine, mine, mine—started again in my mind. I soon found my own body responding, my cock hardening and poking against her thigh as I began to caress her through the thin fabric.

"Tristan, stop—" she started to protest, her voice a fragile thread.

At that exact moment, the door to the cramped room flew open with a violent bang. There stood an incandescently angry Yvonne, her hands on her hips and her eyes flashing with a light that could have set the room on fire.

"I suspected as much," Yvonne hissed, her voice trembling with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "The Alpha and his precious 'healer' enjoying a private consultation? How touching."

I knew how this looked. The position of my hands was damning. But I also knew that if I let go immediately, I would look like a guilty subordinate rather than a king. So, I took my deliberate time, slowly sliding my hands away and reluctantly releasing her.

"I’m just reminding the help of her specific duties, Yvonne," I told her calmly, though I kept my eyes locked on hers. It was a calculated, cold move—a reminder to my Right Hand that I was the Alpha, and I touched whatever I pleased, whenever I pleased.

The air in the room instantly curdled. The thick sexual tension was replaced by a suffocating, murderous rage. Yvonne was vibrating with an energy usually reserved for the moments just before the first blood is spilled on a battlefield.

Sara scrambled away the second my grip loosened, putting the small, pathetic bed between us like a shield. Her face was ashen, her breathing ragged.

"If you'll excuse me, Alpha... Ms. Yvonne..." Sara murmured, keeping her head down as she tried to edge toward the door.

"Stay exactly where you are, you Lockwood filth," Yvonne snapped, her voice raw and jagged. She turned her blazing, accusatory eyes back to me. "Look at you, Tristan. You’re disgusting. You’re a dog in heat."

I straightened my tunic, my patience for her outbursts wearing thin. "Careful, Yvonne. You are dangerously close to forgetting who you are speaking to."

"Do I?" she laughed, and the sound was like glass cracking under a boot. "I am speaking to a man who treats everything and everyone around him as a tool to be used up and discarded. You objectify every soul in this pack for the sake of your own ego. Even me, Tristan. Especially me."

I felt a genuine pang of confusion. "Objectify you? Yvonne, you are my Right Hand. My most valued commander. What is this sudden nonsense?"

She wiped aggressively at her eyes, furious that moisture was gathering there despite her pride. "It doesn't matter. The deed is done. Khalid came through for us. He faked the alchemical proof and convinced the Conqueror’s trackers. Rune believes the girl is dead. He’s pulled back his scouts to mourn. We have won... although the victory came at a hefty price."

Relief washed over me, temporarily eclipsing her bizarre behavior. "Excellent. We finally have some breathing room to plan our next move." I noticed the slight tremor in her hands. "You mentioned a hefty price. How much gold did that grease-stain of an alchemist demand? Whatever the sum, you’ll be reimbursed triple from the pack’s treasury."

To my utter, speechless shock, Yvonne let out a choked, broken sob. Real tears actually spilled onto her armored cheeks.

"Yvonne?" I stepped closer, feeling completely bewildered. In all the years I had known her, through wars and loss, she had never cried. "Alright, fine. I’ll make it quadruple. Why are you weeping over gold? We have plenty of it."

From the corner of the room, Sara’s voice cut through the confusion like a shard of ice. "You really are such a fool, Tristan."

I spun on her, my anger flaring. "You dare speak to me—"

"He didn't want your gold," Sara said, her blue eyes as hard and cold as flint. She looked at Yvonne with a strange, haunting mixture of pity and utter repulsion. "Think, Tristan. Use that tactical mind of yours. The last time that alchemist was here, he demanded a kiss from a high-ranking woman just for a few scraps of information. What do you think he demanded in exchange for committing high treason against the Conqueror? What do you think it cost to fake a death that could get him flayed alive if he were caught?"

She paused, letting the heavy, horrific implication hang in the air like a noose.

"He demanded a price that no woman should ever be forced to pay. No matter what is at stake for her pack."

Yvonne let out a screech of pure, unadulterated fury. She crossed the small room in two massive strides and struck Sara across the face with everything she had—once, and then again. The sound of flesh hitting flesh was deafening in the tiny space. Sara reeled back, her head snapping to the side as she slammed against the wall. Blood began to well at the corner of her mouth, but she didn't utter a single cry.

I stood frozen, the gears of my mind finally turning. "Yvonne... what is she talking about?"

Yvonne spun on me, her face contorted in a mask of pure agony. "She’s right! Are you happy now? I had to let that... that sub-human dog touch me! I had to spread my legs for a Crescent Moon alchemist so you could keep your little prize! I had to trade my dignity so you could play your games!"

The words hit me like a physical blow to the stomach. My stomach churned with a sudden, violent nausea. Yvonne? My stoic, untouchable, iron-willed warrior? The mental image of Khalid’s bony, stained hands on her skin made my own flesh crawl with revulsion.

"I did it for you!" she screamed, poking a finger hard into my chest, her voice rising to a shrill peak. "I debased myself so you would finally have the chance to avenge Claudia without Alpha Rune breathing down our necks! And what do I find when I finally crawl back here? You, in this room, with her. Romancing the very slave girl who murdered your mate while I was busy paying your debts with my own body!"

Shame, hot and acrid like battery acid, flooded through my veins. I hadn't known. I had simply assumed Khalid was a mercenary driven by greed...

"Yvonne," I choked out, reaching for her shoulder. "I didn't... I swear, I will kill him. I will tear Khalid limb from limb for even looking at you that way."

She slapped my hand away with a resounding crack. "I don't want your vengeance, Tristan. It’s too late for that. The marks are already there. I did what I had to do for the survival of the Twilight Zone."

She turned her head slowly, her eyes locking onto Sara, who was calmly wiping the blood from her split lip. The look on Yvonne’s face was no longer that of a soldier. It was pure, unalloyed, personal hatred.

"But I will take my payment," Yvonne hissed, the words dripping with venom. "Not from him. From her. You are going to wish you had actually died in that car crash, Sara Lockwood. I promise you that by the time I am finished, you will beg for the fire."

Yvonne turned and stormed out of the room, the door swinging wildly on its broken hinges.

I stared at Sara, feeling utterly speechless. The weight of Yvonne’s sacrifice crashed down on me, making the air in the room feel thin. Looking at Sara standing there—alive, defiant, and the root cause of all this escalating misery—made me sick to my stomach.

"This is all your fault," I snarled at her, needing a place to dump my overwhelming guilt. "If you had just had the common decency to die at Mari's clinic that first night, none of this would have happened. You are a curse on this house."

I pushed past her, desperate to escape the suffocating walls of that room. I needed to find Yvonne. I needed to fix a mess that I hadn't even realized I was making until it was far too late.