Chapter 37

ALPHA TRISTAN 

 "Tristan, please... please stop them!"

I heard Sara’s voice, a fragile, breaking thing, begging for a mercy that wasn't coming. Below the balcony, a crowd of lustful men and women—members of my own pack—groped at her, unleashing all kinds of calumny and vile, venomous statements at her. She looked so utterly helpless, and despite the hardness I had cultivated in my heart, the sight of it began to fracture my resolve.

I knew, deep down, that I should have stopped this long ago. I had the absolute power to end this spectacle with a single word, but a darker part of me felt the need to pacify Yvonne. She had sacrificed her dignity and her body to Khalid to secure our borders and our secrets; it felt only fair, in some twisted, transactional logic, that I allowed her to have her "pound of flesh."

Yet, as the minutes ticked by, I found I couldn't stand the sight of the humiliation and degradation being unleashed upon Sara. It was a stain on the Twilight Zone’s honor. I wasn't sure I would ever be able to unsee the image of her being treated like common refuse. Sickened by my own complicity, I turned to leave the balcony, but Yvonne stepped directly into my path.

"Going somewhere, Alpha?" she asked, her eyebrow raised in a sharp arch, a knowing, almost mocking smile playing on her lips.

"Yeah, I think I’m done here. I’m tired, Yvonne," I told her, my voice sounding heavy even to my own ears. "I think you’ve got this situation pretty much covered. I’m going upstairs to rest my head."

"No, Tristan. You need to stay right here. You need to see her suffer," Yvonne insisted, her tone brooking no argument. "All of this—the planning, the sacrifice—would be entirely pointless if you are not here to witness the consequence of her actions."

I raised an eyebrow, genuinely wondering where this obsessive logic was coming from. "I’m sorry, but I don't see the logic in staying. The stage is set, the punishment is being administered, and nothing can go wrong now. The girl has been taught to know her place. As for me, I have my own tasks; I intend to track down this Khalid and personally cut off his manhood for what he did to you."

I tried to move past her, but there was a vibrating intensity about her that stopped me in my tracks. She wasn't finished.

"That is very thoughtful of you, to want to fight for my honor, Tristan," she argued, her voice dropping to a hiss. "But I don't think it’s necessary right now. Staying here and observing her walk through this fire is far more important for your development as an Alpha."

"Why?" I let out a suppressed yell, my frustration finally boiling over.

"You see," she said, tilting her head at a predatory angle. "You claimed she seduced you. You claimed she had some sort of hold over you. Well, after seeing every low-life in this pack do with her as they please, that image will be saved in your mind forever. I’m sure you won't want to have anything to do with a public slut once the night is over. It’s for your own protection, Tristan."

"Yeah... you’re probably right," I murmured, though the word 'claimed' stung. She was subtly calling me a liar or a weakling. She shot me a satisfied, knowing smile. "In that case, I’ll move to the far end of the balcony so I can get a better view of the 'justice' being served."

"Perfect. I’ll come with you then," she chuckled, falling into step behind me. I looked at her out of the corner of my eye, wondering if she was actually enjoying the cruelty, or if she was simply lost in her own trauma.

The next two hours passed like a slow-motion car wreck. I stood on the balcony overlooking the Grand Hall, watching as the last of the rowdy warriors eventually began to drift away, their drunken laughter echoing hollowly against the industrial steel beams of the fortress.

Below, the center of the room was a site of absolute carnage—not of blood and bone, but of human dignity. Sara lay perfectly still, looking like a pale, broken doll strapped to the cold floor. Her skin was stained with spilled beer and the spit of my men.

Funny enough, with the hall now half-empty, I actually got a much clearer view of her. Despite the filth they had heaped upon her, I felt my lust building gradually. She had a perfect, resilient body; she was curvy in all the right places, and even in her broken state, I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

However, alongside the lust, I felt a strange, cold pressure expanding in my chest. It wasn't the lingering effect of the toxin this time; it was a shard of my own conscience, a remnant of the man I used to be before Claudia’s death. I was confused, caught between the predator who wanted to own her and the leader who knew this was wrong.

"It is done," Yvonne said, stepping up beside me and shattering my internal monologue. She looked immensely satisfied, her eyes gleaming with a manic, flickering light that made her look like a complete stranger to me.

"Finally," I exhaled, a sigh of genuine relief escaping my lips. "The debt is paid."

"No, Tristan. Not in its entirety," she corrected, causing me to snap my gaze toward her. "The debt will be considered paid only if and when you give me your word to maintain some dignity. The pack looks up to you. It wouldn't be good for morale if their Alpha is seen romancing, flirting, dallying, or making advances at the lowest of the low among us."

I didn't answer her. My attention was caught by two figures entering the hall below. I watched as Paige, the head housekeeper, and Harlan approached the center of the room. They didn't look at the guards or the few lingering warriors. They looked only at me, standing high above them.

"Alpha!" Harlan called out, his voice booming and echoing through the rafters. "A word. Privately. Now."

"Harlan never seems to know when he’s beaten," Yvonne murmured in a tone of pure frustration. "He probably wants to beg for her life again. Are you sure those two aren't having an affair behind your back?"

I didn't know why, but my heartbeat quickened at the suggestion. Why would Harlan, my most loyal commander, betray me like that?

"ALPHA!" Harlan called again, breaking through my spiraling thoughts. "A word. Privately!"

He was shouting now, his voice full of a challenge that was bordering on insubordination. It was a bait; if I refused to grant him an audience here and he continued to disrespect me in front of the staff, I would be forced to punish him, and I didn't want to lose my best commander twice in one month.

I gestured curtly for them to follow me into my private office.