Chapter 62

ALPHA TRISTAN

After I ordered Sara to be led away to the deepest pits of the dungeon—sentenced to a cold cell without food or water—I stood on that podium and searched the faces of my people. While the majority of the pack seemed caught in a fever of bloodthirsty excitement, reveling in the public shaming of the "Moonshadow whore," I noticed three specific faces that didn't join the cheering. Yvonne, Paige, and Harlan just stared at me.

Harlan’s expression was easy enough to read; it was a heavy, sagging mask of disappointment. But Paige and Yvonne... their stares were different. They were sharp, piercing, and layered with a judgment I couldn't quite categorize. It unsettled the wolf within me.

"I would like to go see Sara in her cell," Paige said, strolling up to me before the crowd had even fully dispersed. Her voice was too calm, too steady for a servant addressing an Alpha who had just declared a new reign of terror.

"Paige, I’m beginning to seriously doubt where your loyalty lies. Should I be worried about you?" I asked pointedly, my eyes narrowing.

Her eyes widened for a fraction of a second, but she didn't flinch. "I am loyal to the pack, Alpha. Always."

"Are you?" I challenged. "You told me you were going to take Sara to my former live-in maid for a proper 'education' after that rather interesting display in the penthouse. Only, you didn’t. You took her straight to the cells, didn't you?" I revealed, and her expression darkened, a flicker of guilt crossing her features. I turned to a nearby guard. "Rita, go with her. Ensure that Paige follows the protocol. See to it that she doesn’t give the slave anything—not a crumb, not a drop."

I raised my head after Paige left with her escort and locked gazes with Yvonne. I tried to give her a weary, reassuring smile, hoping to bridge the sudden chasm between us, but she simply turned her back on me. I watched her walk away before returning to the hollow silence of my room.

For the next two days, Yvonne didn't come to check on me. It was a jarring, uncomfortable silence; we were usually inseparable, our lives woven together by duty and history. Now, I felt her absence in every corner of the penthouse. I was constantly missing her—either she was just turning a corner as I entered a room, or she stayed a calculated distance from me in the hallways. She was even deliberately absent when I summoned an emergency council meeting to discuss the border tensions.

"Harlan, have you seen Yvonne lately? I’ve been trying to get a hold of her to no avail," I told Harlan when I finally cornered him in his quarters two days later.

"Yeah, you just missed her, Tristan. She was just here to see me about the patrol shifts," Harlan revealed, sighing as he ushered me inside.

"I don't know what's happening, Harlan. Yvonne is a pillar of this pack—a pillar of my life—and I feel like I'm losing her," I complained. I walked over to his private bar and poured myself a heavy glass of bourbon, the amber liquid burning my throat.

"Well, I think we both know exactly who is responsible for that," he said matter-of-factly.

I turned swiftly toward him, my wolf bristling. "And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked, my voice dropping to a soft, dangerous growl.

"If no one else in this pack has the spine to tell you the truth, I should be the one to do it. It’s no longer a secret that Yvonne is in love with you, Tristan. She’s been in love with you since long before Claudia died. I’m guessing she refused to act on it then because of her friendship with your mate. But now, Claudia is gone, and you’ve chosen to do... whatever it is you are doing with Sara. How do you think that makes her feel?" Harlan spoke to me like an adult scolding a delinquent child. "What are you really doing with that girl, Tristan? Yvonne said she caught you kissing the prisoner."

"Sara is..." I trailed off, the words dying in my throat. I was unable to truly describe the storm of conflicting emotions she stirred in me. "There are times when I feel deeply in love with her, when I want to claim her as my own and protect her from the world. And there are other times when she is so defiant, so infuriating, that I just want to wrap my hands around her neck and choke the life out of her."

Harlan laughed, a dry, humorless sound. "Sara is a good girl, Tristan. One of the nicest, most resilient people you’d ever meet. Yet, in just a few weeks, you have managed to harden her into a weapon. My advice? Let Sara go. Marry Yvonne. You’d have a queen the pack respects and a very strong, stable future."

"Yeah... thank you for your time, Harlan," I muttered as I left.

But as I walked, my heart remained restless, a caged animal pacing in my chest. There was no way I could marry Yvonne and ever find true peace. Whether I liked it or not, I was hopelessly, dangerously in love with Sara, and the most agonizing part was that I had no idea how to win her heart.

Owning her body was clearly not working—she treated it like a temple I was merely trespassing in. And even if I broke her physically, it wouldn't be enough. I didn't just want her flesh; I wanted her heart, her soul, her mind. And those were things you couldn't take by force; they had to be given.

However, as I left Harlan’s house, the guilt over Yvonne began to weigh on me like lead. I felt my feet carry me toward her small, elegant house. I hadn't slept. The image of her face when she saw me with Sara—the pure, unadulterated devastation in her eyes—was a recurring nightmare. I knocked on her door, the sound dull and heavy.