"Knees to the stones, Brant."
The boy collapsed. The sound of bone hitting frozen granite echoed through the courtyard, making the pack instinctively edge forward. Hundreds of eyes, hundreds of pairs of sharp ears. I felt their hunger. They were waiting for either justice or weakness.
"I... I didn't do anything... Lord Cale, mercy!"
"Look at him, Alina."
I pulled her by the elbow, forcing her out from the shadow of the column. She was as translucent as morning mist and just as trembling. Through our bond, the taste of her nausea rushed into me—sour, icy, sticky. My inner wolf bared its teeth. Her fear didn't evoke pity; it was like oil splashed onto a smoldering fire.
"Cale, he's just a child..." her voice broke into a whisper that only a werewolf would hear. "Look at his hands. He was just cleaning the stables."
"With those hands, he delivered a letter to the Silverclaws."
I snatched the crumpled parchment from my tunic and threw it in Brant's face. The boy flinched as the paper scratched his cheek.
"It's not mine! I was framed! I swear by the Moon!"
"The Moon does not love liars, Brant. She does not see them in the shadows of the woods where you hid your caches."
I shifted my gaze to Damian. He stood in the front row, arms crossed over his chest. His doublet was perfectly brushed, not a single wrinkle out of place. His composure was provocative, almost sacrilegious against the backdrop of the boy's sobs.
"What say you, Damian? Your men searched the stables."
"We found it in the bedding of his favorite mare, Alpha. The boy was careless."
Damian didn't even blink. The lie flowed from his mouth like molasses—thick and sweet. I knew whose handwriting it really was. I knew who had bought Brant's loyalty for a few gold coins and a promise of a life he would never receive.
"Careless..." I took a step to the edge of the platform. "A very accurate definition."
"Cale, please, let go of his elbow," Alina tried to pull away, her fingers digging into my arm. "You can see he's terrified. He'll say anything."
"He has already said everything."
I turned to the pack. The clamor died down. Even the wind stopped rustling the heavy banners bearing the snarling wolf's head.
"Treachery is not just a mistake. It is a poison. If one drop remains, the whole pack will die. The Silverclaws know our routes. They know where we put the pups for their first hunt. Because of this letter, we lost three last week."
"I didn't mean to!" Brant screamed, trying to stand. "They said they wouldn't touch... they promised..."
"Who is 'they', Brant?"
The boy opened his mouth, his eyes darting to Damian. For a split second, something sharp as a knife flickered in the eyes of my "loyal" advisor.
"Shut up."
My growl pinned the boy to the ground. The wolf inside me demanded to snap, to tear both their throats out, but I only squeezed Alina's shoulder harder. She cried out, her energy digging into my skin like hundreds of red-hot needles.
"Lord Cale," Selena stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. "Shouldn't we interrogate him officially? Find out the names of the intermediaries? Or are you afraid he'll say too much?"
She wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Alina. Her gaze read like a sentence: Look at the one you chose as a mate. Look at this monster.
"I know the names, Selena. And the intermediaries too. Today we are not here for an investigation. We are here for the end."
I bared my blade. The steel sang as it left the scabbard, catching the meager light of dawn. Alina squeezed her eyes shut, her body went limp, and I literally had to keep her on her feet.
"Watch," I hissed directly into her ear. "This is the price for your safety. This is what I do so you can breathe."
"You do it because you like it!" she spat the words in my face, opening eyes full of tears and hatred. "You just want blood!"
"I need order."
I stepped toward Brant. The boy curled into a ball; his scent—sweat, urine, and cheap ale—filled the space.
"Anything to say to the pack before the Moon takes your spark?"
"Mother... tell my mother..."
"Your mother will receive your things. And the shame you left her as an inheritance."
I raised my sword. The second of silence was so thick it felt like it could be sliced. Damian tilted his head slightly, studying the gleam of the metal. Selena crossed her arms. Alina... Alina simply stopped fighting.
The strike was swift. I didn't drag it out. Metal passed through flesh and vertebrae with a short, dry crunch, like a snapped dry branch. Brant's head rolled to the boots of the guards.
The smell of blood hit my nostrils instantly. Heavy, metallic, hot. The pack exhaled—one single, hoarse sound of relief and primal fear.
Alina swayed. Her knees buckled, and she began to sink to the stones, right into the spreading red puddle. I caught her around the waist, jerking her up with a wrench.
"Don't you dare fall. Stand straight."
"Let go... I'm going to be sick... Cale, let go!"
"You are the Alpha's mate. You will stand here until the last of them remembers this scent."
I scanned the square.
"The assembly is closed. Get this shit out of my sight."
I didn't look back as I dragged her across the yard, past the silent rows of werewolves. I felt their stares on my back. Fear. Respect. And Damian's hidden rage, which he masked behind his facade of a perfect soldier.
The chambers smelled of soot from the fireplace. I sat in a massive chair, slowly running an oiled rag along the blade of my dagger. Alina huddled in the farthest corner by the window, wrapping her arms around herself. The hem of her gray dress was stained—a few drops of Brant's blood had reached her after all.
"You could have just exiled him."
She didn't look at me. Her voice was colorless, hollowed out.
"Exiles return with armies behind them. Dead men do not."
"He was sixteen, Cale. Sixteen! You killed a child in front of everyone."
"I killed a traitor. Age does not make a knife any less sharp."
I stood up. My movements were fluid, predatory. After the execution, the wolf inside hadn't settled; it demanded more, demanded to solidify my power. The scent of smoke and blood that soaked my clothes overpowered her usual scent of lavender and bitter herbs.
"Don't come near me."
"You are in my house, Alina. In my bedroom."
I closed the distance in two steps. She tried to press herself into the wall, but there was nowhere left to retreat. Her energy vibrated like a taut string ready to snap.
"Did you see how he looked at you?" she threw her head back, a feverish spark flashing in her eyes. "Damian. He isn't afraid of you. He's waiting for you to make a mistake. And you just made one. You showed them that you're a tyrant."
"I showed them that I am the Alpha."
I grabbed her by the chin, my fingers digging into her soft skin. I forced her to look me in the eye. In her dilated pupils, I saw my own reflection—a blood-spattered face, a hard snarl, eyes where nothing human remained.
"Do you see this?" I whispered, almost against her lips. "This brutality. This is what keeps the walls of this castle standing. This is what keeps the Silverclaws from entering this room and tearing you apart."
"I would rather die at their hands than belong to someone like you."
"Lie."
I pinned her to the wall, looming over her with my entire body. She gasped from the weight of my armor, from the scent of death radiating from me.
"You aren't trembling because you want death, Alina. You're trembling because you know—I am the only one who can protect you. Even from myself."
"You're insane..."
"Perhaps."
I trailed my nose along her neck, inhaling the terror pulsing beneath her skin. It was sweeter than any wine. My hand slid down, squeezing her waist so hard it would leave bruises tomorrow. A repetition of my grip on the platform.
"Listen to me carefully," my voice became soft as the whisper of steel. "The pack is whispering. Selena is looking for a way to remove you. Damian is looking for a way to remove me. But as long as I am alive, as long as my hands are stained with the blood of those who go against us... no one will touch you."
"You've already touched me, Cale. You broke everything inside me."
"Then I will build something new in its place. Something mine."
I jerked her toward me, crashing my lips into hers in a hard, crushing kiss. There was no tenderness in it. Only the taste of iron, only the assertion of ownership. She didn't respond, freezing like a stone statue, but her heart hammered against my chest like a trapped bird.
I pulled back an inch, not letting go of her face.
"No one touches you but me. Do you understand?"
She remained silent, a single tear rolling down her cheek and disappearing into my palm.
"Answer me."
"I understand..." she breathed, closing her eyes.
I snarled with satisfaction. The wolf inside settled, temporarily sated. I swept her up into my arms and threw her onto the bed, ignoring her faint cry. The night was long, and the smell of blood on my hands had not yet cooled.