Chapter 5: The Protected Legacy (Demetri’s POV)

"No," her voice sounded small, yet it carried a firmness that caught me off guard. She took a step back, pressing that old notebook against her chest with trembling, visibly battered hands. "You might hold my destiny in your hands because of this treaty, but this is mine. You will not touch it."

I narrowed my eyes, feeling the weight of the silence that settled beneath the glass walls of the pavilion. For months, I had lived cooped up here, feigning weakness in this wheelchair to make my cousin Julian and the traitors on the Council lower their guard. I was used to dealing with greedy wolves and arrogant generals, but this girl... she was breaking me from the inside out in a way I couldn't control.

The split second she crossed the threshold and our eyes met, Fenrir, my inner wolf, awakened with a fierce, deafening howl inside my mind, clawing at my mental barriers with relentless talons. Mate! She is ours! Fenrir roared in my chest, inciting me to leap from this damned chair, take her into my arms, and mark her neck before the entire valley. A violent, overwhelming electric shock coursed through my blood, sealing my soul to hers.

The Moon Goddess had delivered my fated partner to me. Her scent—an intoxicating blend of wild blossoms and damp earth—flooded my senses, nearly making me lose my grip.

I stared at her, hypnotized. She had delicate features, yet a posture that blended the exhaustion of someone who had suffered her entire life with the resilience of someone who refused to bend her knees. And her eyes... as the golden sun of Ambervalley pierced the glass pavilion, it illuminated her irises. Alia had light brown eyes, of a honey tone so pure they seemed to gleam like the very gold of the valley. They were deep, expressive, and terribly magnetic—and also undeniably sad and frightened.

But what tortured me, and left Fenrir growling in frustration within my mind, was her reaction. Looking at me, she felt the shock; I saw her cheeks burn and her breath hitch, but her honey-colored eyes reflected only fear, confusion, and defensive anger.

She did not recognize me as her soulmate. There was no submission, no call of the bond from her side. Why is she acting like this? I asked myself, a terrible paranoia gnawing at my chest. Was she faking it? Was her self-control so surgical that she could silence her own wolf just to maintain a spy disguise? Fenrir rejected that notion, whimpering and clawing at my chest, sensing that her pain was real, but as a political Alpha, I couldn't afford to lower my guard.

"You have a lot of courage for someone who is at a disadvantage here, Alia," I replied, controlling the tone of my voice to hide the storm Fenrir and I were facing. "I am ordering you. Hand over the notebook. If it’s a contact list from Bleakwood or a manual of instructions from my cousin, I will find out anyway."

"It's my mother's diary!" she shot back, and the sound of her voice cracked. A solitary tear rolled down her pale cheek, and the scent of her despair made Fenrir howl in agony inside me. "It’s the only thing I have left of her. My father destroyed her jewelry, her clothes, her photos... everything to erase her existence from that cursed pack. My brother Ethan risked his life to get this out of the vault before I was thrown into that car. If you want to lock me in a cell out of paranoia, do it. But don't take the only proof I have that I had a mother who loved me!"

I remained motionless in the wheelchair, but the impact of those words resonated in my chest. I focused my hearing on her pulse. Alia's heart was beating frantically, terrified, but in a steady, clean rhythm. She wasn't lying. There wasn't the slightest trace of political deceit or falsehood there. It was pure, raw pain.

I focused my blue eyes on her, analyzing her without the filter of my distrust. By the Goddess, the condition in which my mate had arrived was deplorable. Her clothes were old cotton rags, worn and faded, that no legitimate daughter of an Alpha would ever wear. Her fingers were wrapped in makeshift, bloody, poorly done bandages. This wasn't the disguise of an elite spy. Bleakwood had sent her away like a piece of disposable trash.

Hatred for Alpha Richard rose in my throat, causing Fenrir to growl dangerously, wanting to rip that bastard's throat out. Richard had used the eighteen-year-old peace treaty to cast his own daughter out of her home, throwing her into the hands of a pack he believed to be composed of cruel monsters.

He thought he was handing me a humiliated burden, unaware that he had sent me the most precious jewel of my life. But the mystery of her silence before the bond still floated in the air. I needed to find out why she and her wolf didn't see me as their mate. And above all, I needed to protect her. If Julian or Bleakwood discovered what she meant to me, she would be murdered before dawn.

I let out a heavy sigh, shifting my eyes to the vast golden expanse of the lake outside before turning back to face her with the cold mask I wore every day.

"Put it away in your backpack," I commanded, softening the pressure of my aura. "If I see this notebook lying around the mansion, or if I catch you drawing any maps of this pack in it, I will throw it into the fireplace myself. Am I clear?"

"Yes," she answered immediately, shoving the leather book into the bottom of the canvas bag with hands that were still trembling. The relief emanating from her subtly calmed my wolf.

"Good. Now, regarding your situation," I tapped my knuckles twice against the wooden arm of the wheelchair. The glass door slid open, and Logan, my entirely trustworthy Beta and the only one who knew my paralysis was a charade, stepped in, maintaining a firm posture. "This is Logan."

Logan stepped forward and gave her a brief, respectful bow.

"Take Alia to my quarters," I instructed Logan, watching her honey eyes widen in panic at the command. I needed her under my watch twenty-four hours a day to ensure no one touched her. "She will stay in the adjoining room, behind the anteroom. Lock the door from the outside. No one goes in, and no one goes out without my express permission. Especially Julian. If my cousin comes within a meter of her, you are authorized to use force."

"Understood, Alpha," Logan nodded.

"Oh, and Logan?" I called out before they crossed the threshold. I glanced at Alia’s deplorable clothes, feeling Fenrir’s dominant instinct demand that our female be treated with utmost royalty. "Get in touch with the best dressmakers in the valley immediately. I want you to provide decent clothes, silk dresses, personal items, undergarments of the finest quality, and the best hygiene products. And jewelry. Everything worthy of an Alpha’s wife. Our wedding and mating ceremony will take place in five days. Give that order to the Council. I want her to have everything ready by then."

Alia stared at me in complete shock, her lips parting slightly at the command, but Logan merely bowed his head, understanding the subtext of my pride.

I turned my wheelchair back toward the lake, feigning indifference as I listened to her light, weary footsteps fading toward the exit, escorted by Logan. Five days. I had set that deadline for the Council and Julian to think I was merely rushing protocol to sire an heir before I died. But in truth, those five days would be my time to unravel why my mate's honey eyes couldn't see the bond that united us, while Fenrir and I tried not to succumb to the absurd tension her presence had already ignited in my chest.