The night was silent except for the distant howls echoing across the Dark Moon territory. Emma stood by the tall arched window of Adrian’s private quarters, her arms crossed against her chest, her breathing uneven. The golden silk curtains swayed around her like whispers of temptation, wrapping her in shadows and moonlight.
She knew what she was doing was dangerous. Every second she lingered in Adrian’s chambers meant risking everything—her dignity, her safety, her heart. Yet… she couldn’t stay away.Adrian had that effect on her. The Alpha King’s father—untamed, ruthless, unpredictable. He wasn’t supposed to be hers. He wasn’t supposed to look at her with those hungry eyes, as though she were the only woman who could ignite his blood.Behind her, she heard his voice. Deep. Commanding. Dangerous.“You’re awake,” Adrian said, his tone low, carrying that irresistible authority that both infuriated and thrilled her.Emma didn’t turn around. She kept her gaze on theThe air in the Dark Moon estate had shifted overnight. It was no longer just heavy with politics and whispers. Now it watched.Every corridor I walked seemed to have eyes—guards stationed at corners, servants suddenly stiff with formality, even wolves I once passed without notice now stared too long, their curiosity sharpened into suspicion.The Council’s decree wrapped itself around my throat like a leash. Under watch. That meant I couldn’t leave, couldn’t breathe freely, couldn’t move without the knowledge that someone, somewhere, was taking note.I had become a spectacle.Adrian refused to let them treat me like a prisoner. The first morning after the decree, when two guards appeared outside my chamber door, he nearly ripped them apart with his bare hands.“She is not your captive,” Adrian thundered, his voice shaking the walls. “Step away.”The guards exchanged nervous glances. “Elder Corrin ordered—”“Then let Corri
The orb’s shattered glow still pulsed faintly where it had rolled across the marble floor, its magic sputtering out in fractured sparks. The sound of it cracking seemed to echo louder than the applause of any battle.The hall had become a storm.Voices rose, overlapping in anger, shock, fascination. Wolves in human skin revealed their fangs, some snapping at each other, others whispering like vultures circling a fresh corpse.“Did you see—?”“He stopped her.”“He knows she’s guilty.”“The Council must act!”The whispers grew into accusations. All eyes burned holes into me. I felt naked under their judgment, stripped of whatever dignity I had left.Lucas thrived in the chaos. His smirk deepened as he spread his hands, the picture of innocence. “You see?” he said, his voice carrying easily over the noise. “I asked for truth. Father destroyed it. What greater confession is there?”The words cut sharper than any blade.
The hall was silent.Hundreds of eyes locked on me, on Adrian, on Lucas—three points in a triangle stretched to breaking.Adrian’s hand enclosed mine. Warm. Steady. A vow in the middle of the storm.Lucas’s smile cut sharper. His glass lifted, a toast without wine. He had planned this moment—every gasp, every whisper, every flick of attention that now hung between us.The silence broke.“Ladies and gentlemen,” Lucas said, his voice rich with false warmth, “may I have your attention?”The crowd turned as one. The Alpha’s son, heir apparent, was speaking.He slid his arm around my waist as if nothing were amiss, his grip bruising. “This evening, I wanted to honor tradition… and family.” He looked at Adrian, then back at me, his eyes glittering. “After all, what are we without loyalty to blood?”A murmur rippled. Adrian’s jaw was stone.Lucas lifted his glass higher. “But family is also about… truth.”
The days after Lucas’s confrontation felt like living in a tightening noose.He no longer shouted. He no longer demanded.He simply… acted.Everything shifted, quietly but decisively.My schedule changed without warning. My phone calls began dropping mid-conversation. The car I usually used to reach Adrian was suddenly “in the shop” every other day. The staff whispered when they thought I wasn’t listening.Lucas had stopped playing the wounded husband. Now, he was the tactician.The first blow came at breakfast three days later.He set a folded invitation beside my plate without a word. The heavy parchment bore the seal of the Alpha Council—the inner circle of wolves, pack leaders, and their families. The kind of gathering where appearances were everything.“You’re coming with me,” Lucas said simply.I stared at the invitation, my stomach tightening. “Why?”His lips curved faintly. “You’ve been… restless. I t
The morning after felt wrong the moment I opened my eyes.Lucas was already up, showered, and dressed, seated at the edge of the bed as though he’d been waiting for me to wake. The sight of him made my stomach clench—the crisp shirt, the polished boots, the calm smile that wasn’t really a smile.“Good morning,” he said, voice warm. Too warm.My throat tightened. “Good morning.”He rose slowly, his movements controlled, deliberate. “I made breakfast. Come downstairs.”It wasn’t a request.The dining table was set more carefully than I’d ever seen it—eggs, toast, fresh fruit, even coffee brewed the way I liked it. It looked like something from a memory of when we were happy. But the atmosphere was wrong, suffocating.Lucas poured my coffee, slid the cup toward me, and watched as I wrapped trembling fingers around it.“You’ve been walking a lot at night,” he said finally, his voice even.I froze, the porce
The days after the ring incident felt like living inside a thundercloud. Every moment was heavy with static, waiting for the strike.Lucas no longer tried to hide the fact that he was watching me. His eyes followed me when I moved about the house, his silence sharper, his gestures deliberate. He stopped pretending to sleep at night. I could feel him lying awake beside me, his body rigid, his breathing slow but too controlled to be real.The predator had stopped circling. Now he was stalking.Adrian had become reckless in equal measure.He no longer spoke of caution or discretion. Instead, his messages came earlier, his demands more urgent: Come now. Come earlier. Don’t make me wait.He wanted me not just at night but in daylight. In his office, his garden, the private wing of the estate. He began pressing me to appear with him at events—not as a guest, but at his side, unhidden.It was madness. But I couldn’t stop.That