THE RED EYE ALPHA

AISHA

Damian’s eyes turned bright, blood-red the exact instant he saw us.

Dear Goddess, the scene was horrifyingly clear. Samson’s dick was still sticking out of his open trousers, thick and glistening, and my vagina was right there staring Damian straight in the face. My short red gown was pulled up around my waist, my legs were parted wide against the wall, and the smell of our shared wetness filled the tight powder room. We were in the middle of having sex, and my husband stood in the doorway and saw everything.

My heart completely stopped. I froze against the cold tile, waiting for the roar, waiting for Damian to draw his broadsword and plunge it straight through both of our chests.

But he didn't say a word.

Damian just stood there for two excruciating seconds, his crimson eyes burning through my soul, staring at his wife caught red-handed with his rival. He didn't scream. He didn't attack. He just looked at us with a cold, terrifying stillness... turned on his heel, and left, letting the heavy wooden door click shut behind him.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Samson let out a low, shaky breath against my neck, his hands trembling as he held my hips against the wall. We both knew what this meant. There was no going back now. The line had been crossed in the most absolute, unforgivable way.

"Aisha..." Samson whispered, his voice thick with raw, desperate emotion. "If this is our last night on earth... I want all of you."

"Me too," I sobbed silently, tears streaming down my cheeks as I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist. "Don't stop, Samson. Please don't stop."

We completed the sex right there against the wall, my core gripping his thick shaft with wild, tragic intensity. But we didn't stop after he came. Samson and I even had two more rounds of sex in that locked room.

For the second round, I bent over the marble sink, placing my palms flat against the cold mirror, letting him take me from behind in doggy style. The thrusts were heavy, fast, and desperate, the sound of his hips slapping against my bare thighs echoing through the small washroom. At intervals, I dropped to my knees on the floor, taking his massive, hard dick deep into my throat, sucking his dick with everything I had, tasting him, worshipping him, pouring all my love and grief into every slide of my mouth.

In our minds, we were having our final sex before the end came. We knew the ancient pack laws—sleeping with a rival Alpha while married to one was high treason, punishable by public execution. We were convinced that the moment we stepped out of that room, my life, and maybe his, would be over. So we loved each other like condemned souls, riding the waves of pleasure until our bodies were completely bruised, sweating, and exhausted.

When we finally finished, Samson helped me pull down my red gown and adjust my disheveled hair. He wiped my face with a damp towel, his eyes filled with a profound, painful devotion.

"I'm ready," I whispered, squeezing his hand tightly as we stood by the locked door. "Whatever happens, I don't regret loving you."

"I won't let them touch you without taking my head first," Samson swore, kissing my forehead softly.

I unlocked the powder room door and walked out into the party area, bracing my chest, fully expecting to be condemned immediately. I expected to see Damian standing in the center of the hall with the High Council, guards waiting with silver chains to arrest me in front of all the nobles.

Instead, I stepped into a moving, loud, fun party.

The music was still playing loudly, lighthearted laughter filled the air, andAlphas were still clinking their crystal glasses together in celebration. Nobody was looking at me with shock. No guards were rushing toward me. Everything was completely normal.

My eyes searched frantically through the crowd, scanning every corner of the grand ballroom for a tall frame with broad shoulders. But Damian was not there.

"He's not here," I whispered to Samson, who was hovering right behind my shoulder.

"Let's check the courtyard," Samson murmured softly.

We walked quickly out the front glass doors onto the breezy marble terrace and down toward the grand driveway. I looked at the spot where our black luxury carriage had been parked all evening—the space was completely empty. The car wasn't there.

He had left. Damian had driven away alone, leaving his unfaithful Luna stranded at the ball.

Samson dropped me home in his private carriage. The two-hour drive back to the Black Star territory was completely silent, our hands locked tightly together on the leather seat. In our hearts, we both knew I was facing death very soon. Damian wasn't a man who forgave betrayal twice; he was a violent warrior, an Alpha who would likely summon his elders and order my head on a spike by dawn.

Yet, as I looked out the dark window, I realized I was surprisingly calm. I was so ready to die for this love. I had tasted real passion with Samson, and if my life had to end because I chose my heart over a forced political marriage, so be it.

When we reached the grand iron gates of the Black Star pack mansion, Samson pulled me into one last, agonizing kiss. "Be careful, my White Wolf," he rasped, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "If he raises a hand against you, find a way to send word to me. I will burn this pack house to the ground to save you."

"I know," I whispered, kissing him back deeply before stepping out into the cold night air.

I walked up the front steps, my heart pounding against my ribs, expecting the worst. I pushed open the double oak doors, preparing to see Damian waiting in the dark living room with his broadsword across his knees.

The house was dead silent.

"Where is the Alpha?" I asked the head guard standing in the foyer, keeping my voice as calm as possible.

"Luna Aisha," the guard bowed deeply, looking confused. "The Alpha has not returned from the party. We assumed he was still with you."

I blinked in surprise. "He hasn't returned?"

"No, my Luna. His carriage hasn't crossed the gates."

I nodded slowly, walking up the grand staircase to our master suite. I opened the door—the room was cold, dark, and empty. The bed was neatly made, untouched since yesterday.

Damian was away for three whole days.

For seventy-two hours, there was no sign of him. He didn't return to the mansion, he didn't send any scroll to his generals, and he didn't issue any order to the High Council regarding my treason. The entire pack house ran on quiet routine, completely unaware that their Alpha had walked in on his wife being fucked by his worst enemy three nights ago.

Sitting by the grand window in our master bedroom, staring at the empty driveway, I was deeply worried about Damian's whereabouts. Where had he gone? Was he gathering a foreign army to crush Blue Wing? Was he drowning his anger in alcohol and blood somewhere far away?

But as the hours ticked by, I realized I was far more worried about the bombshell Samson had dropped in the washroom: he didn't get Mabel pregnant.

That revelation kept echoing in my mind like a thundering drumbeat.

I was so happy with the news—ecstatic, even. Knowing that Samson hadn't touched his wife, knowing that he hadn't broken his sacred promise to me, washed away the crushing weight of betrayal that had been suffocating me for days. He was still mine. His body still belonged only to me.

But behind that sweet relief, a dark, urgent mystery began to grow. If Samson never touched her... then who the hell got Luna Mabel pregnant?

I sat back on the soft armchair, resting my chin on my hand, my mind racing through every single possibility. I am a wife cheating on her husband, so I know better than anyone that cheating is an absolute possibility in these high-stakes pack marriages. Lunas hide secrets. Women trapped in loveless political bonds look for warmth in the dark, just like I did.

Mabel is sleeping with someone else, I thought, a cold, dark smile slowly spreading across my lips.

The proud, arrogant Luna of Blue Wing—the woman who killed my brothers, the woman who framed me for murder, the woman who paraded her baby belly around to break my spirit—was carrying a bastard child inside her womb. She was playing a deadly game, deceiving Samson and the entire Blue Wing Pack into believing she was carrying a legitimate Alpha heir.

If I could find out who the real father was—if I could get solid, undeniable proof of Mabel's dirty secret—I could strip her of her title, expose her in front of the entire realm, and break her into a million pieces forever.

I stood up from the window, my white wolf instincts flaring with a newfound, lethal focus. The fear of death, the panic over Damian's absence, all of it faded into the background. I had a weapon now, and I was going to use it.