Chapter 5: The Alpha’s Ultimatum

Tessa POV

The morning light was cruel.

It filtered through the blinds like thin blades of gold, slicing across my skin, revealing every bruise he left behind. I moved slowly, my body stiff, aching from the night before - each movement a quiet reminder of how much I stopped feeling like a woman, like a person, and more like a thing to be hidden, controlled, used.

The mirror was a liar.

I stared at my reflection, dabbing concealer over the bluish bloom of a bruise just beneath my cheekbone. Another layer to hide the thin cut across my jaw. The one on my ribs - just beneath the edge of my dress - would remain unseen. I made sure of it. I always did.

The room smelled like my lavender foundation and iron.

I winced as I pulled my dress up over my shoulder. The deep burgundy fabric clung to me like a second skin - elegant, tailored, something any she-wolf would’ve been proud to wear to a formal meeting with an Alpha.

But on me, it felt like armor. Thin, fragile, and barely covering the battlefield that was my body.

I added a touch of lipstick to distract from my trembling lips. Mascara to draw attention away from the swelling just beneath one eye. I had become good at this. Too good.

And today,  I had to be perfect.

Callum had barked the warning as soon as the letter arrived: “No mistakes. No attitude. No goddamn staring at the Alpha like some desperate mutt. Keep your head down. Smile when I tell you.”

I did that now - practicing it in the mirror. A soft, vacant smile. The kind of smile that said nothing to see here.

The front door slammed downstairs.

“Tessa!” Callum’s voice echoed through the house, sharp and impatient. “Move your ass!”

My fingers clenched around the makeup brush. One breath. Then another. Then I stood and smoothed my dress with trembling hands.

A summons had arrived earlier - delivered not by messenger, but by Alpha Dorian’s Second himself. A formal audience. Requested personally.

Callum hadn’t said a word since reading the note, but the way his jaw clenched, how he dressed with more precision than usual, told me enough. He was rattled.

The car ride was silent at first.

Callum didn’t speak. Not until we hit the treeline, where the road bent toward the main pack house - then, he started.

“You’ll be polite,” he said, adjusting the cuffs of his suit, not sparing me a glance. “None of your little pity looks. And for the love of the Goddess, don’t embarrass me.”

I stared out the window, watching as pine trees flicked past in a blur of green and shadow.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice YOU staring at him last night,” he added, voice low and venom-laced. “The Alpha.”

My stomach twisted.

“I wasn’t..”

“Shut up.” His hand struck the steering wheel. “You think someone like him would want a used-up bitch like you? Don’t kid yourself.”

I said nothing. I was too good at saying nothing.

“You’re mine,” he hissed. “He needs to know that.”

My fingers curled into my lap, nails digging into the skin through the fabric of my dress.

He laughed suddenly, humorless and mean. “Maybe I’ll let him have a taste. Throw him a bone. See how long he lasts before he gets sick of you too.”

The words sliced deeper than any bruise. But I didn’t cry. I didn’t flinch.

Not this time.

Because deep inside - beneath the hurt, beneath the quiet humiliation - there was a spark. Tiny. Fragile. But it was there.

I didn’t know what it meant yet.

Only that it had golden eyes… and a voice that made Callum flinch.

The pack house loomed ahead, its stone walls bathed in morning light.

I adjusted my shawl to better hide the bruises along my collarbone. I took one last look at my reflection in the car window, then followed Callum inside.

Where the Alpha waited.

Downstairs, the pack house was unusually quiet. Tense.

Good. Less people would see me. 

We entered the grand hall together, side by side but never truly close. The space was set for diplomacy -dark wooden walls, a roaring fireplace, the Pack Alpha’s seat at the far end like a throne carved from bloodstained history.

And there he was.

Alpha Dorian.

Already seated, exuding command with a stillness that was anything but passive. His presence was magnetic and feral, like a predator resting only because he chose to.

He wore black again. Always black. The shirt open just enough to show a hint of the ink that sprawled across his chest and collarbone - a sigil of power, ancient and forbidden. One leg casually draped over the other, a glass of something amber in his hand. He didn’t rise. Didn’t need to.

Callum bowed stiffly. "Alpha Dorian. I appreciate the audience."

Dorian’s gaze didn’t flicker.

Instead, he let the silence draw out. Let it sting.

I stood half a step behind my husband, head down - until I felt it. That same ripple from the night before. That heavy, unyielding awareness crawling over my skin.

His eyes were on me.

"Beta Callum," Dorian said at last, his voice a deep, smooth rumble - refined, but sharp like broken glass. "You look well-fed. Comfortable."

I felt Callum bristle beside me.

"Yes, Alpha. Our pack is thriving. I..."

"But I wasn’t asking about your pack." Dorian’s voice didn’t rise. It didn’t need to. "I was commenting on you."

A long pause followed.

Callum straightened, the false smile wavering.

Dorian rose then, slowly, deliberately. Towering. Not with bluster - but weight. As if gravity bent around him.

He took a step forward, and the floor felt smaller. Another step, and the air thinned.

My breath hitched.

And then he stopped. Close enough for his golden eyes to lock on Callum like a blade finding flesh.

"I don’t do business with weak men," Dorian said, low and calm, each word biting like frost.

Callum’s nostrils flared. "With all due respect.."

"You’re not due any," Dorian cut in, lifting his glass and sipping slowly, his eyes never leaving the Beta. "Let’s not pretend we’re equals. You’re here because I allow it."

The silence that followed was shattering.

I could feel it - shame bleeding off Callum in waves. But it wasn’t just shame. It was fear.

"Now," Dorian continued, pacing slowly, "I came here open to discussions. Trade. Territory agreements. Diplomatic exchange."

He stopped again, this time turning slightly - just enough to let his eyes fall on me.

"But I wasn’t expecting to find a mate treated like livestock."

My heart stopped.

Callum’s hand twitched. "She’s my.."

"A man who can’t protect his mate isn’t a man at all," Dorian said, louder now. Each word deliberate. Sharp. And meant to cut.

His gaze lingered on my face. My throat. Then… lower.

I swallowed hard. My cheeks burned, but not from shame. From something else.

Callum’s voice was barely held together. "You’re out of line.."

"Am I?" Dorian turned to him again, and this time, the Alpha stepped in. Right into his space. "She reeks of your fear. Of your violence. Do you think I didn’t smell it the moment you walked in?"

Callum’s face reddened. His hand curled into a fist.

Dorian didn’t flinch. "You’ll hand her over."

The room spun.

"What?" Callum barked, voice rising. "She’s mine."

Dorian’s brow lifted. "She’s not a possession. Not anymore. You’ve forfeited that right."

"And who the fuck are you to decide that?"

Dorian’s smirk returned - slow and deadly. "I’m the man who can."

His voice dropped to a growl, thick with Alpha command.

"And if you touch her again, Beta, you won’t live long enough to regret it."