Kael's POV
The bond hits me like a fist to the chest.
MATE. My wolf roars the word, clawing inside me.
No. This can't be happening. Not now. Not her.
I stare at the she-wolf covered in blood. She's trembling, still holding the dead Alpha like he's something precious she's broken. She looks devastated. Broken.
And she's mine.
Every instinct screams to pull her close. Protect her. Claim her.
I shove the feeling down hard. I've controlled myself for ten years since Riordan fell. I won't break now.
Especially not for a murderer.
Nobody touches her, I command. My dominance rolls out like a tidal wave. Every wolf drops, including the grieving parents. She's mine now.
You can't! A woman screams the dead wolf's mother, Vera. Tears stream down her face. She murdered my son! At his own mating ceremony!
She answers to me under royal law, I say coldly, letting none of my inner turmoil show. Any wolf who touches her commits treason against the crown.
The pack backs down. They have to. I'm the Alpha King. My word is absolute law.
Even when that law protects someone I should execute.
I walk toward Lyra. She hasn't moved. Just sits there in her blood-soaked wedding dress, looking lost in a way that makes my wolf whimper.
Up close, she's beautiful. Silver-blonde hair. Storm-gray eyes that are completely empty now. Hollow.
Brave. Broken. Mine.
The bond thrums with certainty.
Get up, I order, keeping my voice hard.
She lays the body down gently, almost reverently. Stands on shaking legs. Meets my eyes without flinching despite the blood covering her white dress.
Gutsy. Or suicidal.
Why did you do it? I ask.
Does it matter? Her voice is dead. Flat. You're going to kill me anyway.
It matters to me.
She laughs bitterly. The sound is broken glass. You're the Alpha King. You'll do whatever you want anyway. That's how power works.
The words sting more than they should. I came here by chance. My route patrol passed nearby. I wasn't supposed to be here. But now... The bond pulses between us like a heartbeat. Now you're my problem.
I signal my guards. Thorne steps forward with silver chains.
Chains, I order.
Thorne locks silver around her wrists. She doesn't fight. Doesn't even flinch when the silver burns her skin.
That bothers me more than resistance would.
She's a murderer! Vera screams, being held back by pack members. My son is dead! Give us justice!
I face the pack. Every eye watches me. Judging. Waiting to see if their king is compromised.
Lyra Ashwood is now under royal jurisdiction. She'll stand trial at the Blood Moon Citadel. If guilty, she dies by royal execution. You have my word.
Thomas Blackwood the father shifts back to human form. Grief has aged him ten years in ten minutes.
When will she die? he asks hoarsely.
When I decide. After a fair trial.
Fair? His voice rises. She murdered my son in front of three hundred witnesses! What trial does she need?
The law requires it.
One month, Thomas growls, and it's not a request. It's a threat. Give us justice in one month, Alpha King, or Shadow Vale demands blood debt.
Blood debt. The old law. If I fail to deliver justice, Shadow Vale Pack can legally challenge me.
Dangerous. But I nod. Acceptable.
I turn to Lyra. Walk.
She walks to the vehicle without protest. No fight. No begging. Just cold obedience.
That bothers me most of all.
In the back seat, we're finally alone. Thorne drives. The pack disappears behind us.
Lyra stares out the window, still as a statue.
You feel it, don't you? she whispers finally. The bond.
I don't answer. Admitting it makes it real.
I was supposed to mate him. Damon. But I killed him before it completed, and now... Her voice cracks. Now it transferred to you.
Now it transferred to me, I finish. Your true mate.
She flinches like I've struck her. I don't want a mate.
That makes two of us.
The bond wraps around us anyway, tightening like a noose. My wolf wants to comfort her. Claim her. Mark her as mine.
I grip the seat until my knuckles turn white, fighting every instinct.
I loved him, Lyra says suddenly. Tears stream down her face, cutting paths through blood. I loved Damon. And I killed him with my own hands. What kind of monster does that make me?
I don't know. That's what I'm going to find out.
And then you'll execute me.
Probably. I should want her dead. She's a murderer. A complication. A threat to my authority.
But something in her broken eyes makes me think there's more to this story.
Good, she whispers, looking away. I deserve it. I deserve worse.
The vehicle starts moving toward my territory. Toward the Citadel where I'll either save her or condemn her.
Where I'll have to choose between duty and the bond screaming in my chest.
Why did you do it? I ask softer, unable to help myself. The truth, Lyra.
She's quiet for so long I think she won't answer. Then she turns back, eyes filled with pain so deep it makes my chest ache.
They have my sister, she whispers. They said kill Damon or they'd burn her alive. So I did. I chose Mira over him. Over everything.
My blood runs cold. Who has her?
I don't know. Her voice breaks. They wore masks. Left a note with photos. They're watching somehow. If I don't obey, Mira dies screaming.
Understanding crashes over me like ice water. This wasn't murder.
This was manipulation.
Someone forced her hand. Used her love as a weapon. Turned her into a killer.
And if they could orchestrate an Alpha's death at a mating ceremony in front of three hundred witnesses
This is bigger than one dead wolf.
Much bigger.
Where is your sister now? I ask carefully.
Fear floods her eyes, sharp and primal. I don't know. I did what they asked. But what if it wasn't enough? What if they kill her anyway?
Before I can answer, my phone buzzes. Unknown number.
I open it.
My heart stops.
A photo. A young girl maybe sixteen, silver-blonde hair like Lyra's chained in darkness. Bruised. Crying.
The message beneath makes my blood freeze:
The Alpha King wasn't supposed to interfere. Now the girl pays the price. You have 24 hours to execute Lyra Ashwood publicly, or the sister burns. Choose wisely, Your Majesty. We're always watching.
I look up at Lyra. She sees my face and goes pale.
What is it? she asks, voice shaking.
I turn the phone toward her.
She screams. A sound of pure anguish that makes the bond flare with pain.
MIRA!
And I realize this nightmare is just beginning.
Someone is playing a game.
And we're the pieces.