Chapter 4: The Poisoned Game

I stood frozen. Demetri’s accusation echoed through the glass pavilion, cutting as sharp as the very vase that had shredded my hands the day before. I was not a spy. I was merely a discarded survivor from Bleakwood, sent to die in place of my father’s favorite daughter. But before I could even open my mouth to defend myself and scream the truth, the sound of slow, cynical clapping shattered the suffocating silence of the room.

"What a warm welcome for your new bride, cousin," a drawn-out voice filled with fake sympathy called out from the doorway.

I spun my head quickly and saw a man with perfectly styled brown hair and a smile that didn't reach his brown eyes. He wore elegant, tailored clothing—a brutal and humiliating contrast to my old rags. He walked with a calculated arrogance, as if the place already belonged to him. It was Julian, Demetri’s cousin.

Julian approached me with calm steps, pretending to ignore the murderous aura that Demetri was beginning to emanate from the wheelchair. He looked me up and down, taking in my bandaged hands and my worn-out clothes, and a gleam of pure satisfaction crossed his pupils for a split second. To Julian, seeing the feared Alpha receive a ragged bride seemed to be the perfect fuel for some game of appearances that I did not yet understand. His intentions in supporting this marriage floated in the air, disguised beneath a venomous courtesy that gave me chills.

"Welcome to our valley, Alia," Julian said, bowing slightly in a theatrical display of chivalry. He reached out an open hand to touch my shoulder, but I recoiled out of pure instinct, pressing my back against the cold glass wall. He smirked, finding amusement in my fear. "I apologize for my cousin’s sharpness. Silver poisoning severely affects the mood of even the strongest wolves... and poor Demetri no longer has the patience he used to. He is feeling the weight of his numbered days."

"Julian," Demetri’s voice snapped like a leather whip through the air, causing the glass walls around us to vibrate subtly. He remained seated, but his deep blue eyes looked like blades ready to decapitate his cousin. "Who gave you permission to enter my private quarters and interrupt my conversation?"

"Now, I am your advisor and your blood," Julian replied, spreading his arms in fake innocence, taking another step toward us. "And above all, it was we on the council who insisted so much that you accept this peace treaty and marry Bleakwood’s firstborn. After all, a political alliance is exactly what you need now that... well, now that your time is running out. We only want what's best for you, cousin. We want to ensure the lineage continues and the pack has stability before the worst happens."

I looked from one to the other, trying to process the game of intrigue unfolding before me. My stomach churned with disgust. It became crystal clear that Julian’s presence there had the sole purpose of sowing d*****d, using my deplorable arrival as a public weapon to test and destabilize the Alpha.

While Julian spoke, my eyes involuntarily drifted to Demetri’s neck. As Healer Knox’s assistant, I had cleaned dozens of silver wounds on Bleakwood warriors. That dark coloration and the bulging veins branching up his neck looked identical to terminal-stage poisoning... but something about the perfect symmetry of those marks caused my healer’s brain to blink in alert. There was an almost artistic precision to those dark lines that didn't match the chaotic trail silver leaves in a wolf's blood. I masked my gaze immediately when he noticed my line of sight.

Demetri let out a low, raspy, dangerous laugh, staring fixedly at Julian. He seemed to read every layer of his cousin’s insinuations, and the anger in his deep blue eyes only heightened his certainty that I was the pivot of a trap set between Bleakwood and his own council.

"Your advice is touching, Julian," Demetri hissed, his voice laced with deadly disdain. "But the bride is mine. The treaty is fulfilled. Now, get out of here before I forget my physical limitations and throw you headfirst into the lake."

Julian’s smile faltered for an instant, the mention of the lake bringing a sudden, real tension to his shoulders. He knew that, even weakened in a wheelchair, an Alpha was still a creature with enough strength to tear an opponent apart.

"Right, right. I will leave the lovebirds alone to get to know each other better," Julian adjusted his suit collar, casting one last enigmatic, heavy look at me. "See you at dinner, Alia. I hope you feel at home... as long as your husband can keep this house standing."

With a cynical nod, Julian turned his back and left the pavilion, closing the glass doors behind him.

Silence reigned once more, but the air felt even heavier and thinner. I was left alone with the man I thought was on the weapon of death. My chest was still rising and falling rapidly. The strange sensation of heat and electricity I felt when I first looked at him was still there, pulsing beneath my skin, mocking my dread.

Demetri turned his wheelchair completely toward me. The look of public contempt vanished, replaced by a surgical, analytical coldness that terrified me even more. He clenched his teeth, and his deep blue eyes seemed to burn my skin, though he didn't say a single word about the shock we had shared at first glance. To me, that warmth was just fear; to him, it was the recognition of the bond the Moon Goddess had just sealed, a complication he definitely did not want to expose.

"What a brilliant move on my cousin's part," he said, his voice low, gentle, and incredibly lethal. "Julian spent months insisting that I sign this peace treaty and accept a bride from Bleakwood. He knew our pack was vulnerable. He used this cursed treaty to corner me, throwing me into a political situation from which I cannot escape without starting a new war."

He leaned forward, his Alpha aura pressing against my lungs.

"A wife sent by a rival pack, living under my roof, with free access to my private quarters. You are the perfect spy, Alia. Julian set up this marriage to put Bleakwood's eyes inside my home, expecting to gather my weaknesses up close. Tell me: what is the plan? Poison the rest of my medicine supply? Deliver the final blow while I pretend to sleep?"

Tears of frustration and anger burned the backs of my eyes, but I swallowed the urge to cry. I refused to break down in front of this paranoid man. He thought my miserable life and my abuse were part of a brilliant war strategy.

"My father hates me!" my voice came out louder than I intended, echoing off the glass walls. "He threw me into that car like a piece of disposable trash! I know nothing about your cousin’s intrigues, and I barely knew you existed until yesterday! If your council dragged you into a political trap, it’s not my fault!"

Demetri frowned for a brief second, his dark eyebrows knitting together as he analyzed the genuine fury on my face. But the distrust of a threatened political leader does not fade easily. He lowered his gaze, focusing his dark eyes on the old notebook I was frantically pressing against my chest, behind the backpack.

"And what is that notebook you're protecting as if it were gold?" he demanded, his voice returning to a rigid, unquestionable Alpha command. "Hand it over to me. Now."