Page 12

Andros

The scent of blood seeped through the cracks like a warning—thick, metallic, and wrong. Then the door slammed open.

Tanya stormed into my study like a storm in silk, a fury wrapped in gold and bruises.

Her lip was torn, bleeding down her chin in a thin crimson line, and her cheek—gods—her cheek was already turning the color of violets crushed underfoot.

But she walked tall, chin up, spine straight, the picture of beautiful rage.

My wolf stirred immediately. Not with concern. With indignation. This wasn’t about her pain. This was about mine.

I stood slowly, letting the silence stretch until it became suffocating. Letting the pressure build behind my eyes, behind my chest. Letting the violence settle into my voice before I spoke.

“What. Happened.”

Tanya’s eyes glistened, but no tears fell. She didn’t need them. She knew better than to cry—she knew how to twist suffering into performance.

“That thing ,” she hissed, voice sharp with venom, “the stray you dragged into this keep—she attacked me.”

She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, measured, and angry. Not fragile—furious. And beneath the fury, something worse: triumph.

“She lunged at me. No provocation. No reason. Like a beast. She bloodied my mouth and slammed my head against the wall. She meant to disfigure me.”

She raised her hand, fingers stained red, held it out like an offering. “This is what your mercy has brought into our home.”

I moved without thinking. The chair behind me screeched across the stone and crashed to the floor, forgotten. My hands were clenched at my sides, every tendon pulled tight beneath the skin.

She dared. Lexa dared. To strike one of mine. In my house. Under my protection.

It didn’t matter that Tanya made my skin crawl. It didn’t matter that my wolf rejected her scent, her softness, her submission. She was still part of my pack.

And Lexa wasn’t.

“Guards!” I snarled, voice like stone shattering under pressure. “Bring her to me. Now.”

Tanya smiled then. Just a little. The curve of someone who knew they’d played the game and won this round. She stepped closer, bruises shining in the firelight, leaned on the edge of my desk as if it were her throne.

“You promised to protect us,” she murmured. “All of us. Even me. She drew blood, Andros. That can’t go unanswered.”

Her hand reached toward mine—hesitating, not quite touching. “You swore an oath. To lead. To keep your pack safe.”

And she was right. The oath burned behind my ribs like a brand. I was Alpha. My word wasn’t law—it was goddamn gospel. And a wolf who attacked my own within these walls, without mark or place or bond, was no better than a rogue.

Lexa had stepped over a line. And for that, there would be retribution.

The door groaned open like a grave disturbed.

And then they brought her in. Gone was the filth of the docks, the stench of sea rot and desperation.

They had scrubbed her clean, but not soft.

Dressed her in deep forest green, a colour that clung to her like moss over stone. It didn’t make her look tamed.

It made her look dangerous.

Her hair was damp, hanging in ink-dark strands down her back, framing her pale face like the mourning veil of a goddess long since buried. Her hands were cuffed in black iron, runes etched into the steel—standard for feral rogues.

But she didn’t hang her head. She didn’t tremble or look away. She walked into my study like she owned the space. Like the firelight was hers. Like she’d walked through every circle of hell to get here and hadn’t bowed to a single one.

She didn’t look at Tanya. Not once. She looked at me. Eyes sharp, straw-coloured, glinting like glass right before it shatters. She looked like ruin barely contained by skin. Like defiance stitched together with scars. And still, even now, she was fucking beautiful.

Tanya’s voice slashed through the quiet like a poisoned blade.

“She cleans up decently,” she said, smug curling around every syllable. “Finally doesn’t smell like she fucked a fishmonger on a pile of rotting nets.”

Crack. I didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.

I crossed the room in a breath, boots hammering the stone, and stood in front of Lexa before the echo of Tanya’s cruelty had even faded.

Lexa didn’t flinch. Didn’t back away. But I could feel it in her.The coil of tension beneath the surface. The hum of barely-restrained instinct. Not fear. Never fear.

“I brought you into my walls,” I said, voice like razors dragging across stone. “Fed you. Gave your boy warmth and protection. I let you live under the roof of the pack you were too wild to deserve.”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to. The fire in her eyes screamed every insult she refused to spit.

“And this is how you repay that?” My voice rose, sharp and vicious. “You maul an Omega. In my halls. In front of my guards. You stain what we protect.”

“She provoked me,” Lexa said. Her voice didn’t shake. If anything, it was colder than mine.

“She is pack ,” I snarled. “She is an Omega . Sacred. Cherished. Obeyed. And you—” I stepped in, so close our breath collided, “—you are nothing but a stray bitch snapping at scraps that were never meant for you.”

Behind me, Tanya gave a delicate sigh, dripping with mock sorrow.

“Tell her, Alpha,” she cooed. “Tell her what happens to mutts who forget their place. You can’t polish filth.”

I leaned in, low, just enough to make sure no one else could hear but her.

“You will apologize,” I whispered, my voice sharp as teeth. “You will fall to your knees, not because I want it—but because you owe it. Now.”

She didn’t kneel. She stood there, cuffed, surrounded by guards and rage and blood, and still—she didn’t bend. I could feel every eye in the room locked on her. On me. Waiting.

Lexa raised her chin, her eyes burning—not with fear, but with something colder. Something unholy. And then she smiled. Not sweet. Not soft. A wolf’s smile. All teeth and defiance.

“No,” she said. One word. And it detonated in the center of my chest.

“I’m not apologizing. Not to you. Not to that knot-starved bitch in heat who thinks a little perfume and a warm cunt earns her a crown.”

Tanya choked on a gasp, hand flying to her chest. Her lip was still split, blood painting her teeth red. “She attacked me!” she shrieked. “You heard that—you saw what she did to me!”

But Lexa wasn’t done.

“I don’t owe either of you a godsdamned thing,” she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut flesh. “You fed me? Kept the boy from freezing?” She leaned forward in her chains, the iron biting as they clinked with the motion. “Don’t confuse basic survival with mercy. You didn’t save us. You caged us.”

My wolf surged beneath my skin, snarling, pacing. I clenched my jaw to keep him down.

Lexa locked eyes with me, cold and unflinching.

“Don’t you dare start preaching to me about traditions, or roles, or whatever sanctified bullshit you Alphas chant to make yourselves feel righteous while you rut through omegas like dogs.

You can dress it up in silk and gold, call it sacred, divine, fated—but in the end?

It’s still just animals clawing each other in the dirt, pretending their urges are holy so they don’t have to choke on the truth. It's not mating. It's masking.”

The room went still. Even the fire dared not crackle.

Tanya stepped forward, her voice trembling with outrage. “You can’t let her speak like that—she’s not even one of us! She’s filth. Rogue-born—feral trash who—”

Lexa didn’t even look at her. Her gaze stayed fixed on mine.

“You said it yourself,” she said, voice quiet now, but deadly. “I’m not pack. So I don’t bow. Not to you—and sure as hell not to your Luna .”

The word sliced the air like a blade, sharp and final.

My voice dropped into a growl. “What did you just say?”

Lexa smiled then. Slow. Venomous. I’d seen wolves bare their teeth in warning with more restraint.

“Oh. You didn’t know?” she said, almost sweet. “That’s what she calls herself. When you’re not around. In front of your guards. In front of your Beta.”

My eyes slid to Garrick. He didn’t speak. Didn’t shift. Just nodded. Once. That was all it took. Everything inside me cracked. Heat rose in my chest—burning, blinding, lethal. The fury wasn’t just mine—it belonged to every Alpha who ever ruled with law and blood and iron.

“Everyone. Out.” My voice boomed through the stone walls like a hammer.

The guards left without a word. Garrick followed, eyes heavy on me. Only Tanya remained.

She stepped forward again, shaking, voice rising. “You can’t—Andros, she assaulted me—where’s my apology—”

“Get. The fuck. Out.”

“But..”

“You call yourself Luna again,” I hissed, “and I’ll strip your tongue from your skull and mount it on the gates as a reminder of what happens to liars in my court.”

Her face crumbled. Then hardened. She spun and stormed out, the scent of her bleeding pride fouling the air behind her. The door slammed shut behind Tanya like judgment itself. The echo rang down the hall, leaving behind only silence—and Lexa.

She stood there, cuffed in black iron, her chest rising and falling with every breath like she’d just won a battle.

And maybe she had. Maybe throwing the truth into the room like a lit match was her victory.

But as I turned back toward her, the space between us tightened like a snare, and I felt the shift.

The air thickened. Heated. The flames in the hearth danced higher, reflecting in her eyes like molten glass.

I stepped closer, slow and deliberate, until I could see the tension in her shoulders, the tremble just under her skin. Not fear. Not anticipation. It was restraint.

She was holding herself together by threads, and I was about to pull them all.

“What really happened,” I said, voice low, slow, curling like smoke through the space between us. “Not Tanya’s version. Not the guards’ reports. Yours. Tell me what made you snap.”