Chapter 89

Third Person POV

There was absolutely nothing going through Alaric’s mind except one thing on repeat.

It’s Lucius’.

Lucius, Lucius, Lucius.

He wasn’t in control of his feet as they stormed back into the ballroom, seeing Lucius across the room, talking to a group of Betas.

Walking right up to him, he grabbed his arm in an iron grasp, yanking him to the sidelines.

“Sienna’s pregnant?” Alaric hissed through clenched teeth, pushing Lucius towards the wall.

“I —” Lucius looked alarmed, his eyes wide with shock. “Alaric, let me explain.”

“How could you?” Alaric snarled, completely losing his cool, though somehow still managing to keep his voice low.

“What are you talking about?” Lucius frowned, pushing back against Alaric. “It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“She said it was — ”

Before Alaric could finish his sentence, a horn sounded behind them, signaling the King was coming out to greet everyone. The night had flown by, because the King only spoke at the very end of events.

Alaric was forced to let Lucius go, crossing his arms over his chest in a huff, fury still pulsing through him. He leaned against one of the pillars along the outskirts of the room, watching his uncle walk out with narrowed eyes.

He took the stage, a fake smile on his face, like always. Everything he did was fake.

Alaric studied his uncles face, still laughing internally at the fact that he’d asked Sienna, of all people, to poison him.

The King clearly didn’t know her at all, because even if she hated Alaric’s guts, she wouldn’t kill him. That wasn’t in her nature and never would be.

“It means so much for you all to be here tonight, celebrating the great Alpha’s of our nation,” his uncle bellowed out to the crowd, sounding almost believable.

A soft applause rippled through the crowd, soon hushed by the wave of the King’s hand.

“I first want to acknowledge that I hold a lot of sorrow for our missing Alpha, Julian Nightfall.” The King sighed, and Alaric stifled a scoff. “I want everyone here to know that we’re working on finding him and getting him back safely.”

Murmurs drifted through the crowd as Alaric scanned over everyone, his eyes halting on Sienna in the back, a death stare in hers.

If he had to guess, she was probably thumbing the poison in her pocket, thinking about all the terrible things it would do to his uncle. If only.

Someone brings around champagne on a tray, which Alaric takes graciously. He stares at the liquid for a long moment, watching others grabbing their own flutes of it too.

Surely it wasn’t poisoned, right?

Alaric pursued his lips, eyeing his uncle, his stomach dropping when they locked eyes. He knew exactly what his uncle was thinking — was the poison in this drink?

He gave the King a smug smile, going as far as to wink at him, before taking a sip of his drink. They held gazes the entire time, a flicker of darkness flashing through his uncles eyes.

Oh, to watch him die, his wolf howled in his mind. It’s going to be a wonderful thing.

Yes, it most definitely will, Alaric grinned, finishing his flute of champagne in one gulp. He’d had enough of this event, of the stares, the whispers, the nosiness.

It was too much, even for him.

He didn’t bother to look at Lucius again, even though he was standing just behind him. That conversation had sailed, and Alaric just wanted to be alone for the rest of the night.

So he ducked out of the ballroom unnoticed, his uncle droning on in the background, his eyes burning into the back of Alaric’s skull.

When Alaric got back out to the silent halls, the only company a few guards lining the passage, he let out a colossal sigh. The tunnels had left him depleted, aching from head to toe, sweat dried across his whole body.

Really, he just wanted to lay down in the privacy of his room and get some rest for once in his life.

His room was silent as he stepped in, the moonlight filtering in through a slit in the curtains, the plaza below hauntingly empty. It took Alaric a minute to realize some things on his desk were in a disarray, the hairs on the back of his neck rising instantly.

Someone has been here, his wolf growled in warning, an unfamiliar scent wafting around the room.

There was someone in there that very second, lurking in the shadows. Alaric could sense them — more than one.

“You can show yourselves,” he said slowly, his whole body on guard, the wolf in him lingering just below the surface of his skin, ready to rip out.

But he didn’t even have time to do that, because arms wrapped around his neck from behind, locking him in place. Another figure kicked him right in the gut, knocking the air out of him in one intense whoosh.

Alaric buckled, his knees slamming to the ground, struggling to take in a single steady breath. Was this how he died?

How the hell did rogues even get in the palace this far? They just took out the ones in the tunnel — had there been others before that?

Mia. Alaric couldn’t help but think it, after the Blackmoon event. Maybe Mia harbored anger towards him for not marrying her, and this is what she did in retaliation.

Unfortunately, it was entirely possible.

Turn! Alaric’s wolf instructed in a panic, but he just didn’t have the strength to do it. His lungs screamed for more air, the pressure on his neck making it far harder than it should have been.

Can’t — he gasped in response, even in his head. He was starved for oxygen.

The rogue made the tiniest of mistakes, loosening his grip just enough for Alaric to get the upper hand, swinging a strong upper hook to the mans chin. A satisfying crack echoed through the room, and the rogue went limp on the floor.

Alaric didn’t waste a second, turning on the other rogue, who had backed away, scrambling for the open window, one high enough that he’d die on impact at the ground far below.

“You won’t get far,” Alaric growled, his voice a little hoarse as he finally took the breath he’d been so desperate for.

Yet the rogue still rushed for the window in a panic, trying his hardest to climb out and scramble across the ledge.

Alaric got to him first, sending him tumbling down three stories to his immediate death, the crack of his body echoing through the empty plaza.

He looked down at his contorted form below, twisted and bent so unnaturally. It was the rogues own fault he was dead — thinking he could come into Alaric’s private quarters and succeed was a huge mistake.

That was too close, his wolf whispered, the fear evident in its tone.

It won’t happen again, Alaric said with confidence, the adrenaline still wearing off. Now he was left shaken and anxious, wondering what this meant for his safety.

If Mia wasn’t behind it, then his uncle definitely was. And if Alaric wasn’t safe in his own room, was there anywhere he would be?