Diana She sniffles, “Meaner.” “Definitely meaner.” She says, “After what I helped put you through... I deserve it”. I shake my head and don’t comment. I glance at the door. “Come on. Let’s not keep the others waiting too long.” She hesitates, then follows after me, one hand still on her bump. And together, we head for the door. I reach for the handle, when Natasha’s voice stops me. “The way everything happened… it wasn’t right,” she says softly. “And maybe I have no right to say this, especially after everything, but…” She lets out a shaky breath, almost a laugh. “I’m glad you ended up with Alpha Dominicus.” I pause and glance back at her. Her eyes are still a little red, her expression tentative but sincere. “He’s a good man,” she adds quietly. “Stronger. Kinder. And—well—let’s be honest… definitely easier on the eyes than Magnus.” That gets a real smile out of me. I arch a brow, smirking. “I know,” I say simply. “Trust me.” She laughs—a soft, wet sound—and
Diana Natasha doesn’t speak at first. She just stares at me, like she’s trying to find the words—like they’re stuck somewhere deep in her chest. She opens her mouth once, then closes it again. And finally, in a quiet, trembling voice, she says, “I’m sorry.” I say nothing. She swallows hard, then adds, “I mean it, Alpha Diana. I’m so, so sorry. I’ve wanted to say this to you for a long time, but I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance. And even now, I know it won’t be enough. But I have to say it anyway.” Still, I wait. She shifts on her feet. Her hands hover protectively near her belly, then curl into fists. “When my father proposed the alliance to Alpha Magnus… it wasn’t just about our packs. He used the witches as justification, but the real reason…” Her voice breaks slightly. “The real reason was me. I was twenty-six. I hadn’t met my mate. Everyone assumed he was dead. And… I’d always admired Magnus. Since we were kids. I thought maybe… maybe I’d get a life I never tho
Diana They don’t speak — just gather him up with quiet reverence and disappear back through the doors. Someone quickly cleans the floor. Blood disappears, but the thick metallic scent still lingers in the air like a memory we can’t shake off. Lucien stares at the floor for a long time. Then he looks up, face drawn and heavy. “When I got the summons,” he starts, voice quiet, “I couldn’t bring myself to leave my daughter behind. Not with a threat like this out there. What if the witches attacked while I was gone?” He turns to Natasha, his gaze softening. “She’s still two months from her due date. I figured the safest place for her was beside me. And who better to protect her than her father — the Alpha?” A humorless chuckle slips from his mouth. “Everyone was against it. But I insisted.” He looks at Natasha again, his jaw tight. “I’m glad I did. If she’d been back at the pack and I found out there were traitors…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Just shakes his head. Natas
Diana When Elder Thomas had pleaded and insisted he’d been forced, I could sense the hypocrisy. The lack of real regret. The selfish core. But this boy — Alpha Lucien throws up his hands, his face twisting with anger and despair. “Then why?!” he shouts. Ned crumples, his shoulders folding inward as he staggers back, covering his face with his hands. “I’m sorry,” he weeps, voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I can’t… I can’t say it… I’m sorry…” Lucien turns desperately toward Dominicus. “Alpha Dominicus…” he croaks, swallowing hard. But Dominicus doesn’t look at him. His sharp eyes stay on the young man, quiet, thoughtful, deadly calm. Then, softly, he speaks. “Can’t or won’t?” Ned lifts his tear-soaked face, blinking in confusion. “…What?” Dominicus’s voice doesn’t change. “He said he can’t tell us. So, can’t or won’t”. Alpha Lucien throws up his hands in frustration. “What difference does it make?!” Beside Dominicus, Eleanor finally speaks — her voice
Diana I feel the shift in Dominicus beside me — a slow coil of intensity that tells me his patience is wearing thin. Alpha Lucien Silvanus stands tense, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle ticking in his cheek. The only sound is the faint, pitiful shivering of the young Gamma — Ned — who still won’t lift his head. His shoulders quake as though he’s holding in sobs, but no sound escapes him except for the occasional broken whimper. “What the hell does this mean, Ned?!” he roars, his voice crashing through the silence. “Speak up! What have you done?!” I flinch a little at the sheer force of his voice, but the pregnant woman beside him stays steady. Her hand instinctively lifts, resting protectively over her belly — but there’s no fear in her eyes. She stands tall, chin up, no cowering, no panic. That hand on her stomach is a mother’s reflex, nothing more. She turns sharply to the Alpha. “There has to be a misunderstanding,” she says firmly. Her tone is measured, ser
DianaDominicus lets his words hang in the air, then calmly says, “You may go.”There’s a collective, almost audible exhale — the sound of dozens of wolves feeling the leash loosen. Relief floods the room as the Alphas and their entourages begin to stir, scraping back chairs, murmuring to one another, clearly eager to get the hell out.But then —“That’s right,” Dominicus says softly, just as they start to rise.Everyone freezes mid-motion.“Before I forget…” he continues, his tone casual, almost lazy. “I’m sure none of you would do something as foolish as, say… having contact with the dark witches. Right?”There’s a pause. A ripple of uneasy glances spreads through the room.A few Alphas frown, confused. One or two even start to bristle, offended — about to protest.And that’s when Dom softly says:“Answer me.”He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t snarl or growl.But that — that quiet answer me — hits like a hurricane.The Alpha Command floods the room.I feel it sweep out of him l
Diana My eyes slowly take in the room. The air shifts palpably, settling into something quieter, heavier. The earlier arrogance, the puffed-up posturing the Alphas had swaggered in with, is gone — snuffed out completely. Where there was once prideful tension, now there’s only subdued silence, a shared, unspoken understanding that the Amadeus wolves and the people affiliated with them are not to be underestimated. Around the table, shoulders lower, gazes soften or flick away, and even the boldest Alphas now sit with a touch more caution, their egos silently recalibrating in the face of hard reality. Dominicus slowly sweeps his gaze across the room — and I don’t miss the way the Alphas his eyes land on visibly flinch, their shoulders tightening. Except, of course, for Alpha Alaric. That one perks up, a grin spreading lazily across his face as he meets Dom’s gaze head-on, entirely unbothered. I can’t help the small smile tugging at my lips as I watch the brief, silent ex
Diana As Alpha Dennis sinks stiffly into his seat, his face still burning, he shoots venomous glares toward Alpha Stefan and Alpha Alaric. “I’ll remember this,” he hisses under his breath, his voice tight with fury. Alpha Stefan lets out a sneer. Alpha Alaric, on the other hand, only blinks at Dennis with wide, innocent eyes — the very picture of ‘who, me?’ — as though he has no idea what Dennis is talking about. Around the table, the other Alphas cast quick, sidelong glances at Dennis, their expressions ranging from mild pity to thinly veiled amusement. A few can’t quite hide the flicker of schadenfreude in their eyes, glad it wasn’t them on the floor. The Betas and Gammas present — sharp enough to read the room — keep their heads down, shoulders tight, doing their best to reduce their presence. Two Alphas had just been publicly humbled. No one here wants to catch the next wave of humiliation or become the target of any redirected wrath. Dominicus turns smoothly toward El
Diana At the front, Alpha Dennis narrows his eyes at Clyde. He sneers at the younger man’s expressionless face, his lips curling back. “I don’t like the look on your face,” he growls — and then he lunges. His body blurs forward, muscle and fury in motion, his fist arcing fast toward Clyde’s jaw. But Clyde moves. No — he disappears. One second, Dennis’s punch is cutting through the air; the next, Clyde has side-stepped so smoothly, so impossibly fast, it’s as if he was never there. His hand comes up, fingers curling — not into a full punch, no, but a sharp, decisive tap against Dennis’s shoulder, using the Alpha’s own momentum to shove him slightly off balance. Dennis snarls and spins, feet thudding hard against the polished floor. He throws another blow, this one a brutal hook aimed at Clyde’s ribs — —but Clyde catches his wrist mid-swing. The sound is a sharp snap of fingers tightening around bone, and Dennis’s eyes go wide as Clyde jerks his arm down and forward, s