Chapter 3: The Sickly Alpha

The tall warrior opened the car door, and I stepped out cautiously, clutching the strap of my canvas backpack tightly against my chest. I expected the worst. In Bleakwood, whenever I entered a new environment, it was accompanied by shoves, shouts, or insults. But here, the silence that settled among the members of the Ambervalley pack moving through the gardens was different. No one moved to attack me. Instead, the looks I received were heavy with shock and a strange solidarity.

Walking through those gardens was my first great shock. The contrast with the place I used to call "home" was almost painful. Bleakwood was a gray, cold, sterile land, where the ground felt like frozen mud and the tree branches were dry as black claws—fitting for the man who ruled it. Here, however, everything overflowed with life. Perfectly green lawns stretched beneath massive trees whose leaves shimmered in rich hues of gold, copper, and amber under the sunlight. The gentle warmth radiating from the sky seemed to embrace my skin, something I had never experienced. It was a place too beautiful for someone who had just stepped out of hell.

Yet, the exhaustion of the long journey and the constant throbbing in my hands brought me back to reality. The coarse fabric of the old rags I used to bandage my cut fingers was already sticking to my skin from the dried blood. I tried not to show the pain, but every step made my arms tremble.

As we crossed the stone pathways toward the main mansion, whispers began to follow me:

"Look at her clothes..." an omega whispered near a flower bed. "Is she Alpha Richard's daughter? She looks like a servant who escaped from a dungeon."

"How horrible... her hands are bandaged with bloody rags," another woman commented, covering her mouth, her eyes full of pity. "How could an Alpha send his own daughter in that condition for a peace treaty? What a monster..."

Those words hit me like tiny shards of glass. I was wearing faded jeans, worn at the knees, and a cotton blouse that had seen better days. To them, I was a severely rejected princess. To me, that was just my everyday skin.

"She doesn't look like a bride worthy of an Alpha," a warrior grumbled further away, crossing his arms. "Bleakwood is underestimating us by sending a ragged girl as if we were trash."

"And what did you expect?" an older man replied in a bitter tone. "Our Alpha is wasting away. Poisoned by silver, bound to that chair... It's what we have left. Richard sent the least important daughter because he knows Ambervalley is on the verge of collapsing. They think we're finished."

I swallowed hard, lowering my head as the stern warrior guided me. So it was true. The Ambervalley pack, despite its golden beauty, was bleeding from the inside. And the man with whom I was about to cross paths was seen as a broken leader.

I was led to the back of the property, where a massive glass pavilion rose before a crystalline lake. The guard pushed open the double doors and gave a brief nod for me to enter alone.

The air inside was warm, scented with the strong aroma of sandalwood and something purely masculine that made my heart skip a beat. In the center of the pavilion, with his back to me and facing the lake, sat him. Alpha Demetri.

He was sitting in a wheelchair made of dark wood and metal. Even seated, his presence was overwhelming. His shoulders were impressively broad, covered in a dark fabric that seemed to frame dense, powerful musculature. His black hair fell messily against his nape, contrasting with his rigid, almost aristocratic posture. I expected to see a wasted, frail man shrunken by disease, but the aura of absolute power radiating from that figure made me step back out of pure survival instinct.

"Close the door," his voice echoed. It was a deep, raspy, cutting sound that vibrated directly in my chest.

As soon as I pushed the glass door, making it click into the latch, Demetri slowly spun the chair toward me.

The moment the movement stopped and his face was directed at me, I lost my breath. Demetri was incredibly young, with sculpted features and a sharp jawline, but it was his eyes that paralyzed me. He had deep blue eyes, a shade so dark and magnetic they looked like two sapphires carved by the Moon Goddess herself. In that instant, an overwhelming and unfamiliar sensation washed over me. A sudden wave of heat and a strange electricity rushed through my blood, making my cheeks burn. My breathing hitched. I felt a sudden pang of hope mixed with fear, a silly wish that this man might reach out his hand to me. Since I had no wolf, I couldn't understand what it was, so I just curled my injured fingers, trying to ignore that absurd tingling in my chest. It must be the desperation of being in enemy territory, I convinced myself.

Below his majestic jaw, his skin bore a calculated paleness around his neck, where faintly dark veins branched upward.

However, what frightened me was his reaction. Demetri’s deep blue eyes widened for a fraction of a second, and his pupils dilated so much they nearly swallowed the bluish iris. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw muscle flexed, gripping the armrests of the wheelchair as if fighting an invisible shock. But the surprise vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by a gleam of pure hatred and absolute distrust as he analyzed me.

He looked at my wretched clothes, my wounded hands, and finally, at my face, masking every other emotion with profound contempt.

"So Richard sent me his firstborn as charity," he hissed, his voice dropping an octave, cold and low like a serpent. His long fingers gripped the armrests of the wheelchair so tightly that the wood creaked under his restrained strength. "Look at you, Alia. This theater of a ragged girl and bleeding hands doesn’t fool me for a second. How much did your father pay you to come spy on my final days?"

I stepped back, silenced by shock, but he continued, his deep blue eyes burning with a disdain that whipped me from the inside:

"You Bleakwood leeches think you're clever. But I know the type of woman you are. You saw the rumors that the Alpha of Ambervalley is dying and rushed to sign the treaty, didn't you? Came chasing an easy Luna title. I bet you're already counting the days until my funeral, salivating to inherit and enjoy all the wealth and gold of this valley as soon as my body grows cold in the grave. You’re nothing but a cheap opportunist, Alia. A parasite sent to harvest the spoils of my death."

I stood frozen. Tears of pure humiliation burned the backs of my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of him. The pain of his reaction hurt deeply, ripping away the tiny shred of hope I still carried in my chest. He didn't see me as a human being; to him, I was just a greedy criminal and a spy.

Before I could formulate an answer, the hurried footsteps of a man echoed from outside the pavilion. The door burst open, and a wolf with brown hair and a cynical smile walked in, looking from Demetri to me with a fake air of concern.

It was Demetri’s cousin, the shadow that loomed over the leadership of Ambervalley.