Artificial Malice

The next morning, the grand dining room felt entirely freezing, the pale, muted winter light doing absolutely nothing to dispel the thick, suffocating tension hanging in the air. I sat at the far end of the long mahogany table, my posture forced into a rigid, defensive straight line. My breakfast plate sat untouched in front of me, the silver fork heavy against my fingers. I had spent hours rehearsing my lines in the dark, tuning my voice to sound as sharp and venomous as a silver blade. To protect the fragile thread of my mother’s life, I had to ensure Alpha Maximo looked at me and saw nothing but an unlovable monster.

The heavy oak doors clicked open with a sharp, echoing sound that made my chest tighten. Maximo walked into the room, but he didn't move with his usual commanding, predatory stride. He looked as though he hadn't slept a single second since our confrontation in the war room. His dark, neatly styled hair was slightly unkempt, his sharp jawline shadow-darkened by a rough layer of stubble, and his powerful shoulders were heavily slumped beneath his black shirt. The regal, untouchable Supreme Alpha looked entirely hollowed out, consumed by a wave of intense self-loathing and guilt that was visibly clawing at his soul.

He didn't take his usual seat at the head of the table. Instead, he walked slowly and deliberately over to my side, stopping bare inches away from my chair. His intoxicating scent of fresh cedarwood and winter rain was faint, heavily suppressed by his exhaustion, but it still managed to flood my senses and break through my defenses.

"Lucia," he murmured, his deep baritone voice dropping into a quiet, tentative tone that carried absolutely none of his usual dominant alpha authority. He reached out, his large, calloused palm resting flat on the mahogany table near my plate, his fingers visibly trembling. "We need to talk about what happened last night in the war room. I ordered my shadow warriors to double-check the recovery archives from five years ago. The passenger side door frame—"

"I am completely sick of hearing about your pathetic, dramatic crash, Maximo," I interrupted loudly, my voice dropping into a sharp, venomous sneer that cut through his quiet words like glass.

Maximo froze dead in his tracks, his breath catching sharply in his throat as he looked down at me in absolute, paralyzed shock. The vulnerability in his dark eyes was so raw, so completely unprotected, that it physically pained me to keep going. But the image of the grainy video—of Victoria’s hand pinching my mother’s oxygen line—was screaming in my head. I had to press the blade deeper.

I set my fork down with a loud, deliberate clatter against the porcelain, looking up to lock my eyes directly with his stunned expression. I forced my features to twist into a mask of pure, ugly arrogance, channeling every ounce of malice I could muster to shield the breaking fragments of my heart. "Did it ever occur to you that I simply do not care? I do not care about your old ambush on the ridge, I do not care about Agatha’s little lies, and I certainly do not care about your sudden, pathetic waves of guilt. You are wasting your time."

"Lucia, please... do not do this," Maximo whispered, his amber eyes filling with a desperate, crushing pain that almost made my artificial mask fracture right then and there. He took a half-step closer, his hand reaching out as if to gently touch the thick layers of gauze protecting my frostbitten forearms. "The scars on your arms... I saw them under the fireplace light. Those are tracking marks from a burning window frame. I know what you did for me, Lucia. Let me fix this. Let me earn your—"

"Those scars are an eyesore!" I snapped, standing up quickly from my chair and pushing it back with a harsh, reckless scrape that echoed loudly against the black marble floor. I crossed my arms tightly over my chest, forcing my chin high as I glared at him with cold, transactional eyes. "I married you to save my pack's territory from total annihilation, Maximo. I am playing the part of your loyal, happy Luna in public because the High Council forces me to secure the legal terms of our treaty. But if you think for a single second that I am going to sit here in private and let you project your weird, obsessive, guilt-ridden fantasies about a childhood savior onto me, you are entirely mistaken. It’s pathetic."

Maximo flinched violently as if my words had been a physical weapon driving straight through his chest. The uncharacteristic hurt and deep, bleeding betrayal that washed over his handsome features was absolute, changing him from a hopeful man back into a frozen statue. His jaw locked into a rigid, trembling line, his fists clenching so hard at his sides that his tribal tattoos tautened against his tense muscles.

"I am an omega who knows how to survive," I lied coldly, turning my back on his broken expression so he wouldn't see the hot, stinging tears that were threatening to spill over my eyelashes. I forced my voice to drop into a low, mocking chuckle. "If you are suddenly bored of Agatha’s fragile routine, go find another beta female to entertain you in your private wing. Leave me out of your boring drama. Our marriage is a business transaction, Maximo. You have your northern ridges, and my pack has your warriors. Do not look for anything more from me."

"Is that truly all this is to you?" he growled softly, a sudden, dark wave of freezing alpha anger rolling back into his baritone as his pride desperately fought to shield his broken heart from the venom I had just poured into his wounds. "A transaction? A mutual exploitation of resources?"

"Always," I lied, the single word tasting like ash and poison in my mouth. I kept my back turned to him, gripping the edge of my tunic until my fingers went entirely numb. "Now, if you'll excuse me, the air in this dining room has become entirely suffocating. Enjoy your breakfast, Alpha."

I strode out of the grand dining room without looking back a single time, my heavy footsteps carrying me back toward the safety of the isolated east wing. The heavy oak doors clicked shut behind me, leaving him alone in the freezing silence of the grand hall. I collapsed against the corridor wall the moment I was out of his sight, a silent, devastating sob tearing through my chest as hot tears finally blurred my vision. I had successfully reinforced the wall of ice between us, and I had guaranteed my mother’s temporary safety, but the look of pure, raw agony I had forced into Maximo’s eyes would haunt me for the rest of my miserable life. I had made myself a monster to keep the secret alive.