DAMIAN WEPT

AISHA

Everywhere went even more quiet.

I had fully expected a sudden burst of screaming, loud murmurs, and frantic chaos to erupt across the courtyard, but no. The heavy silence that followed Mabel’s loud confession was thick, suffocating, and terrifyingly cold. The people of Blue Wing were not celebrating; they were deeply, profoundly sad to hear such a devastating humiliation leveled against their mighty Alpha.

For ten long seconds, nobody even dared to breathe. Samson stood completely frozen on the high stone dais, his face locked in a hard, marble mask, his dark eyes fixed onto Mabel with a murderous intensity that made the surrounding air feel freezing cold.

Then, the sudden dam broke.

"LIAR!" a senior Beta warrior roared from the front row, drawing his iron blade from his sheath.

"BLASPHEMY!" another noble elder screamed, pointing a trembling finger at Mabel. "She is lying to save her own skin! She is a disgraced whore trying to bring down our Alpha!"

The massive crowd exploded into a roaring sea of sheer fury. Hundreds of wolves surged forward toward the stage, their faces twisted in absolute rage, shouting at the top of their lungs:

"This is not true! This is false, and you will be executed for this!"

"Burn her! Drag her off the platform!"

"Traitor! Slut!"

The crowd’s fury was far too much. If it were not for the heavy line of fully armored guards and elite soldiers who immediately raised their iron shields and formed a solid wall around the high platform, the enraged mob would have physically torn Mabel limb from limb right then and there. Mabel simply stood behind the guard wall, clutching the crying baby against her chest, letting out another loud, hysterical laugh as the people cursed her name.

I sat in my chair on the VIP terrace, my heart pounding violently against my ribs as I watched the horrifying scene unfold before my eyes.

But do I think this is a lie?

The sudden, chilling thought crept into my mind, sending a cold shudder straight down my spine. I stared at Samson’s tall, muscular back as he stood on the platform under the protective shield of his soldiers.

Alpha Samson slept with my pussy every single day. For three whole months, we had made wild, relentless love across every room in my house, by the poolside, on the floors, and against the stone walls. He had driven his thick shaft into me without a condom, spilling his warm seed inside my core night after night after night... and yet, I was not pregnant. Not even a single sign of a bump. Not a single morning of nausea. Nothing.

My mind raced back to all those wild nights we shared. Was Mabel actually telling the dark, hidden truth? Was Samson truly shooting blanks this whole time? Was that the real reason he had secretly brought Jack the trash remover into Mabel’s bed chamber—because he knew he could never give Blue Wing an heir himself?

I was still deeply pondering over this disturbing realization, my head spinning in absolute confusion, when a heavy hand tapped my shoulder.

I gasped, jumping slightly in my seat, and turned my head.

Damian was standing right beside me. He looked towering, dark, and utterly composed, a wicked, cold smirk playing on his sharp lips. He leaned down close to my ear, his deep voice dropping into a smooth, deadly whisper that chilled me to the bone.

"Maybe it's time for us to walk up to that stage, my sweet Luna," Damian murmured, his dark eyes flashing with cruel delight as he gestured toward the roaring crowd. "Why don't you go up there and prove to the entire realm whether Samson is impotent or not? Tell the crowd the truth, Aisha... since he also sleeps with your wet hole every single day."

My breath caught in my throat. Pure, blinding horror seized my heart, instantly washing away every thought of Samson's condition.

If I walked up to that stage right now and admitted to the entire High Council that Samson had been sleeping with me—the Luna of Black Star—the crowd's fierce rage would instantly turn from Mabel onto me. They would tear me apart without a second thought.

"Please... do not do this to me, Damian," I pleaded desperately, dropping my head and putting both of my hands together in a tight, trembling prayer in front of my chest.

Tears of pure terror spilled over my eyelashes, running down my cheeks and soaking into my black lace gown.

"I am begging you, my lord... please," I sobbed quietly, keeping my voice low so the nearby Elders wouldn't hear us over the mob's screams. "They will stone me to death right here on this stone floor! Remember... they are still actively accusing me of Alpha Brad's sudden death years ago, and now this confession... this accusation is like a direct death sentence for me! Please, Damian... have mercy on me!"

In that moment of sheer panic, I completely forgot that I had a tiny bottle of nightshade poison tucked inside my silk purse. I had spent the entire morning convincing myself that I was ready to die today—that I would swallow the poison to save Samson's honor and secure a grand Luna burial.

But sitting there, facing the reality of a brutal, violent execution at the hands of an angry mob, I learned a terrifying truth about human nature: it is one thing to sit alone in your quiet room and talk about killing yourself, but it is a completely different thing to actually swallow the venom when death is staring you dead in the face. When the moment of absolute truth arrived, my survival instinct kicked in, and I wanted nothing more than to live.

I looked up through my blurred vision, expecting to see Damian laughing at my desperate tears, ready to drag me up the stairs by my hair to finish his cruel revenge.

Instead, what I saw made my entire world freeze.

Damian stood above me, his broad shoulders stiff, his jaw clenched tight. And there, running down his sharp, rough cheek, was a single, silent tear.

Tears were flowing slowly from Damian's dark eyes.

My heart did a strange, painful flip inside my chest. Damian—the ruthless, bloodthirsty Alpha of Black Star who had never shown weakness to a single soul in his entire life—was crying for me. He wasn't crying out of rage or humiliation. He was crying because he genuinely, deeply, and painfully loved me. Even after catching me in the act of cheating, even after holding the pictures of my betrayal in his hands, watching me beg for my life on my knees crushed his soul into a thousand pieces. He couldn't bear to be the monster who handed me over to the executioners.

Without saying a single word, Damian wiped the wet tear from his face with the back of his hand. He turned his back on the roaring crowd, turned his back on the stage, and walked out of the grand assembly, his heavy boots clicking softly against the marble floor as he walked away alone.

I scrambled out of my chair immediately, clutching my silk purse against my chest, and followed him through the side gates.

We got into the back of his black armored car in total, suffocating silence. Damian stared blankly out of his window, his face set in a hard, unreadable expression, his chest rising and falling in slow, heavy breaths. I sat quietly on my side of the seat, my hands resting in my lap, not daring to break the heavy quietness that hung between us.

The car pulled through the gates of the Black Star estate thirty minutes later. We walked into the grand mansion together, stepping through the quiet hallways and entering our master bedroom.

The heavy oak door swung shut behind us.

Damian immediately walked over to the massive four-poster bed, sitting down on the edge of the mattress. He unbuttoned his sharp black suit jacket, tossed it onto the floor, and leaned his elbows on his knees, staring blankly at the floorboards with a tired, broken look in his eyes.

Looking at him sitting there so defenseless, a strange mix of guilt, fear, and desperate desire washed over my entire body. I wanted to erase the pain in his eyes. I wanted to make him forget about Samson, forget about the pictures, and reclaim my position as his cherished Luna.

I stepped in front of the full-length mirror, unzipped the back of my sweeping black lace gown, and let the heavy dress fall to my ankles. I stepped out of my silk heels, standing completely naked in the middle of the room, my sore, bare skin exposed to the cool air.

I walked over to the bed, stepping between his parted knees.

"Damian..." I purred softly, putting on my sweetest, most seductive voice as I ran my fingers through his thick, dark hair.

He didn't move. He didn't look up at me.

I reached down, taking his broad, calloused right hand into mine. I guided his fingers down my body, sliding his warm palm down my flat stomach, down my hips, and pressed his hand directly against my wet, throbbing pussy.

I leaned down, pressing my bare breasts against his shoulder, whispering softly into his ear. "I'm sorry, my love... take me. Please, make love to your Luna..."

Damian stayed completely still for two long, agonizing seconds. I could feel the intense heat radiating from his hand resting against my wet lips.

Then, slowly and deliberately, Damian pulled his hand away from my vagina.

He didn't squeeze me. He didn't slap me. He didn't growl in anger. He simply lifted his hand off my body, gently pushed my thighs aside, and swung his legs onto the bed.

Damian turned his broad back completely away from me, pulled the heavy duvet over his shoulders, lay down on his side, and slept off.

I stood beside the bed in total, absolute shock, completely naked, the cool air chilling my bare skin.

My jaw hung open as tears gathered in my eyes once again. In all the years I had been married to this powerful, insatiable Alpha—through every argument, every battle, and every storm—Damian had never, ever turned down my body. He had always taken me wildly, passionately, and greedily whenever I offered myself to him.

This was the absolute first time in my entire life that he was saying no to my pussy.

And as I stood there in the quiet room, looking at his silent, turned back, I realized something far more terrifying than any execution crowd: Damian hadn't just rejected my body—his love for me had finally broken into cold, dead ash.