All Chapters of ALPHA Arthur: The Mate Who Lied: Chapter 61 - Chapter 70

"Lock him away, Phineas. Do it before the rot spreads from his mind to your very throne." Aurelius’s voice was a dry rasp, barely more than a draft of cold air against Phineas’s neck. The old man was a shadow of the king he used to be, pacing the edges of the solar with frantic, unsteady steps."He is seven, Aurelius. He’s a child," Phineas snapped, his fingers trembling as they traced the obsidian hilt of the ritual dagger resting on the desk. The stone was cold, biting into his palm."He is a predator wearing the skin of a child!" Aurelius slammed a withered hand onto the desk, the wood groaning. "Did you see that diplomat? The man’s brain turned to soup while he sat at our table. That boy didn't blink. He ate a grape while he watched a man die. Lock him in the iron tower. Seal the bloodline traits before he decides your heart looks like a tasty snack."Phineas looked away, his eyes landing on the nursery door down the hall. His chest felt like it was being crushed by a tightening i

Where are your guards now, little human?" Byron’s voice echoed off the high, vaulted ceiling of the ballroom. He stood at the center of the gold-leafed floor, flanked by six Alpha elders, all of them dripping with the sweat of a shift.Phineas backed against the cold marble of a pillar. His skin burned, a raw, itching heat that flared with every pulse of the Lunar Eclipse overhead. The moon was a bruised purple disk, and with every second it stayed dark, his strength ebbed. "They'll be here, Byron. You think the pack will follow a traitor?""The pack follows strength." Byron stepped over a discarded silk banner, his eyes glowing a predatory yellow. "They don't follow a man who bleeds every time the moon turns its face. They don't follow a Queen who brings humans into our beds and monsters into our nurseries.""You’re talkative for a man about to die," Phineas said. He gripped a heavy brass candle-stand. It was useless against seven Alphas, but his knuckles were white anyway."Who's go

"Get out of the car, Phineas." Lucian’s voice rasped against the steady drumming of the rain on the roof.Phineas gripped the leather handle of the door. His knuckles turned white. "Why here, Lucian? Of all the places in this godforsaken territory, why the border?""You know why." Lucian pushed his door open. The sound of the downpour flooded the cabin, a roar of static and cold. "Move. Now."Phineas stepped out. His boots sank into the familiar, sucking mud. The rain hit him instantly, soaking through his silk shirt, turning it into a second, freezing skin. He wiped water from his eyes. The fence was still there. Rustier. The sign marking the boundary of the Northern Pack hung by a single screw.This was the spot.The night Arthur had spat on the ground. The night his father had turned his back. The night Phineas had stood in this exact mud and realized he was nothing. Not a wolf. Not a son. Just a piece of trash to be discarded at the gate."I hate this place," Phineas said. The wor

"Put it on me, Phineas." Lucian’s voice was a jagged rasp, swallowed by the roar of the downpour.Phineas stared at the silver band in his palm. It was cold. Heavier than it looked. The rain slicked the polished metal, making it gleam like a predator’s tooth under the bruised purple of the eclipse. He looked at the man kneeling in the freezing sludge. The General. The Butcher. The man who had turned the ballroom floor into a lake of red was now shivering in the dirt, his head bowed low enough for the mud to coat his chin."You realize what this is, Lucian?" Phineas gripped the collar. His knuckles were white. "This isn't a game. It’s not for the cameras or the Council. If I click this lock, the General dies. You become a ghost in my house. You don't speak. You don't eat. You don't breathe unless I tell you the air is yours.""I told you." Lucian looked up. Rainwater streamed into his eyes, but he didn't blink. "I don't want the air. I want you. Mark me. Take the strength you're so afr

"Bon appétit, Clement." Phineas leaned back, his black diamond crown catching the flickering candlelight of the dining hall.Clement stared at the silver platter. His hands shook. Dirt was still caked under his fingernails from the slums, a sharp contrast to the embroidered white tablecloth. On the plate sat a small, heap of blue-tinted microchips, shimmering like cold glass."I can't eat this." Clement’s voice was a dry rasp. He looked at the guards standing by the door, then at Lucian, who stood behind Phineas like a silent mountain of muscle and scars. "Phineas, please. I’m your brother. I was just trying to survive.""You were trying to sell our father's blood secrets to the Zurich labs." Phineas picked up a crystal glass of wine. He didn't drink. He watched the way Clement’s throat bobbed. "You were trying to auction off the very thing that makes us Aurelius. My blood. Solomon's blood. The foundation of the throne you once coveted.""They offered me fifty million." Clement wiped