Inside the council hall, Alpha Damon argued with the elders over their decision—until the doors opened and Alexander stepped in. The room fell silent.
The oldest elder rose and spoke with measured slowness. "Alpha Damon, the council has convened today to hear your choice. If you reject Alexander Gideon as your mate and Luna of the Slayer Pack, you will kill her with your own hands and relinquish your title. A tormented Alpha cannot lead. Here stands Alexander—future Luna of this pack."
Gideon, seated among the elders, clenched his fists until his knuckles blanched. His heart pounded violently. He had already buried one daughter, and the thought of losing another made dread crawl up his spine. A vein throbbed at his temple as anger surged through him at the elder's cold ultimatum.
His gaze locked on Alexander. She stood rigid, frightened, a sheen of sweat on her skin. He expected her to plead—expected tears, words, anything—but she said nothing.
"Fool," he muttered under his breath.
All eyes turned to Damon.
He stood in silence for a full minute, unmoving, as tension tightened around the room. The elders shifted, uneasy, waiting.
At last Damon spoke. "I will not reject Alexander Gideon as my mate."
Relief swept through the council. Some elders even softened, satisfied—if Damon stepped down, his uncle would take the throne, and that man's rule would drown the pack in blood and war. Damon might be harsh, but his uncle was merciless.
Elder Frank nodded. "Very well. Your decision, Alpha, is most welcome."
The others murmured their approval—until Damon's voice cut through again.
"But I will not make her Luna of this pack. She can be my mate—my wife—but she is unworthy of the Luna's office."
When he finished, his eyes were already on Alexander, burning with unmistakable hatred, as if he wanted to devour her whole.
Alexander flinched. Her breath caught, and she dropped her head at once, fingers twisting the fabric of her dress with trembling hands.
The elders leaned toward one another, whispering in quick, nervous bursts. After only a moment, they agreed—too wary of provoking their Alpha any further.
"She is your wife," one elder said carefully.
And with that, the council hearing was declared closed.
One by one, the Elders filed out of the council hall until only Alexander remained. She didn't move. Alpha Damon's stare pinned her in place so completely she barely dared to breathe.
Slowly, he crossed the room.
He reached her and clamped a hand around her throat, yanking her forward. Alexander was larger than him—taller by nearly a head—yet his grip made her feel small, helpless. Her chin lifted under the force, her pulse thudding against his palm.
Damon leaned close, his voice dropping to a soft, venomous whisper.
"You're going to regret being my mate. You'll beg for death—and you won't get it. From today, Alexander, you won't be Luna of this pack. I have a better use for you."
His breath grazed her ear as he spoke the words that turned her blood to ice.
"You'll be the pack's sex slave. You'll satisfy my warriors when they're horny. You'll be sent to emissaries and diplomats—into the beds of rival packs. You'll regret the day you became mine. I'll make sure of it."
When he finished, he released her as if she were filth. Alexander's legs buckled. She hit the floor hard, her body trembling uncontrollably.
Damon looked down at her with disgust and walked out without another word.
It took her a long moment to drag air into her lungs again. When she finally managed to stand, she stumbled from the hall, shaking and breathless, forced to stop and rest again and again as she made the long trek back to the castle—nearly ten kilometers of humiliation and dread.
Near home, she sank onto the grass, exhausted, trying to steady her breathing.
That's when five children appeared, circling her like she wasn't someone's aunt, like she wasn't meant to be respected. Oranges flew from their hands, thudding against her arms and shoulders as they jeered.
"She's the girl with the dead wolf!"
"My mom says don't end up like her!"
"Why is she so fat and ugly?"
Alexander didn't shout. She didn't snarl. She only lowered her head, heat flooding her face with shame, unable to meet their eyes.
Then one of them said, sharper than the rest, "She's a murderer. She killed her sister."
The words hit her like a blade.
All her exhaustion vanished. Alexander surged to her feet so suddenly the children flinched. Tears welled as her voice cracked.
"I am not a murderer! I didn't kill anyone!"
Her denial came out desperate, raw. She was crying openly now, breath hitching between words.
"Why are you calling me a murderer?"
The children stared for a heartbeat—then scattered in terror. Simple minds, simple fear: if people said she was a killer, then surely she would kill them too.
Alexander stood alone in the field, shaking as the last of them disappeared. Then she turned and made it home through her tears.
But when she reached the castle, she realized the air inside was heavier than anything outside.
The tension waiting for her at home was worse.
Gideon had barely been home a day before the house became a battlefield.
Ever since his return, he and Jezebel argued constantly—her voice sharp with accusation, his patience worn thin. She kept insisting Alexander had killed her daughter, the claim stabbing at Gideon's temper until it finally snapped.
"If you're thinking of killing Alexander," Gideon said, his glare hard and unyielding, "then you'll have to kill me first. I won't let you hurt her. I won't stand here and watch you do that."
Jezebel cut him off with a jagged laugh. She swayed where she stood, the movement loose and careless, her scent and the unfocused glaze in her eyes making it obvious—an omega deep in her cups. The wine in her glass trembled as she lifted it, then she sneered.
"What a great father you are, Gideon. So eager to become the Alpha's father-in-law." Her smile turned bitter. "You're selfish."
Gideon's brows drew together, disgust and disappointment tightening his face.
At that moment, the door opened.
Alexander stepped inside.
The maids and personal guards were gone—sent away or scattered during the shouting—leaving only the three of them and the heavy silence that followed. The tension in the room was unmistakable, but Alexander barely registered it. Fear had been clinging to her the entire way home, Alpha Damon's words looping in her mind until she couldn't think straight.
She swallowed, then blurted the first thing that mattered.
"Dad," she said, voice unsteady, "I don't want to marry the Alpha."
The room went utterly still.