Chapter 2 The Pregnant Rogue is Dead
ZURI
What the hell was happening? I looked at my parents to gauge how to take this, but their expressions were as stoic as ever.
Torin’s smile widened. “Justice. Swift and public. It’s important my future subjects see that your mate protects what’s his.”
My body bristled at the way he said that. His. I didn’t want to be his if this is how he treated people.
“They’re starving,” I snapped. “Not invading.”
“They were trespassing near the southern border,” Torin said, his voice thick with pride. “I thought you’d appreciate justice. It’s important to start our union with a clear message.”
My jaw tightened. “A message for whom, exactly?”
“The world,” he said simply. “That you are mine, and this pack is protected. And no one would dare step a foot here without knowing the kind of end they will get.” He turned to me, eyes glittering. “Would you like to swing the first blow? As a birthday treat?”
The crowd murmured. My parents smiled awkwardly, clapping as if heads were a reasonable gift. So, I stepped forward slowly, my eyes locked on the pregnant rogue. The woman met her gaze–not pleading, but daring? Maybe daring me to be different.
I turned back to Torin. “You know what I’d really like for my birthday?”
He smiled. “Name it.”
“Less murder. More cake,” I joked. “And maybe a barrel of whiskey.”
Someone in the crowd coughed. My mother whispered my name in warning. Torin tilted his head, amused.”
“She’s a rogue,” he said, pointing his sword at her. “You feel sympathy?”
I looked down at the woman, whose eyes were wild with defiance and fury. “I feel sick.”
Torin gave a lazy shrug. “Weakness, then. We’ll work on that,” he said, stepping close to me, our faces inches apart. “Along with that pretty mouth of yours.”
I turned to leave. There was nothing more to say–nothing more I could stomach. But Torin’s hand clamped around my wrist before I took a step.
“Stay,” he said, low and firm. “It’s important that you see it. That they all see you see it.”
His grip wasn’t bruising, but it made my wolf stir–ears back, teeth bared. My parents gave me the look to obey, so I did. I stood there, every inch of me on fire as his men dragged the rogues to the wooden stumps, hands tied behind their backs like offerings.
The pregnant rogue did not scream. She didn’t plead like the others. She stared straight ahead, proud and still. I forced myself to watch.
Don’t forget this, I told myself. Don’t you dare look away.
When the blade came down, it was fast. Merciless. Her body crumpled with a sickening thud that would echo in my bones for years.
Applause followed, mostly from Torin’s company. I didn’t clap.
“He didn’t have to do that.” Fallon’s voice was barely a whisper in my head. Shock ripped through her as much as me.
“You still think he’s a great match?” I asked bitterly. “Still think he’s the key to our strength?”
“He’s… He’s an Alpha. This is what they do, what they’ve been taught to do. It doesn’t mean he’s heartless–”
“Heartless?” I echoed. “Fallon, he offered me that woman’s head as a birthday gift. And you’re still hoping he’s just misunderstood?”
She went quiet, and for once, I didn’t relish it.
“We could change him”, she said after a moment, and I felt the ache in her, the disappointment. “Show him how to rule without–”
“You saw her,” I said, eyes still locked on the blood-stained stump. “She didn’t beg. Didn’t cry. She just looked at me like she knew I’d watch her die and do nothing.”
“You didn’t have a choice—”
“That’s what they’ll say, isn’t it? That I didn’t have a choice. And then, when he starts stringing up more of our people, they’ll say the same thing.”
Fallon’s sorrow curled inward, quiet and retreating. “He was supposed to be our chance. Our match. Our future.”
“Then the future can rot,” I said, turning from the crowd, from the applause, from the splattered red. “Because I will never be his.”
My father stepped forward, clapping a little too enthusiastically, voice booming, “Let us now celebrate this blessed union! Let the festival begin—music, food, and drink for all!”
The crowd shifted like a flock of startled birds, eager to fly toward distraction. A band struck up something cheerful and utterly inappropriate. My feet moved, but I wasn’t sure where I was going until I found myself inside the grand dining hall, the scent of lavender and roasted duck thick in the air. I sat near the front table, stiff as the carved wooden chair beneath me.
Torin took the seat beside me, so close his knee brushed mine under the table. His stare hadn’t left me.
I kept my eyes on the silver goblet in front of me. I didn’t drink. Didn’t eat. My appetite had been decapitated with the rogues.
“You’re not smiling,” Torin said, pouring himself a glass of blood-red wine. “I thought birthdays were for joy.”
“I think we just have different definitions of the word.”
“I haven’t met many women who were as well-versed as you,” he chuckled, as if I were being coy, not furious. “You’ll grow into this. Into us. You’re sharp now–resistant. But that’s what makes you interesting.”
My wolf stirred again, uncomfortable beneath my skin. Her ears twitched, and a low growl rumbled through me, just beneath the surface. I looked at my parents. They wore practiced expressions–faces carefully carved into politeness. But I could still see it. The tightness at the corners of their mouths. The flicker of unease.
They had watched the same thing I had. They had seen. And they chose to look away. I turned back to Torin, who was still watching me, like I was his favorite dish and he hadn’t decided whether to devour me or save me for later.
“You’re staring,” I said quietly.
His smile widened. “Admiring.”
“Don’t,” I muttered, noticing his eyes narrowing just slightly, but I didn’t care.
Torin rose and offered me his hand with the practiced charm of a man who was used to being obeyed. The crowd watched, expectant and thrilled. I hesitated for only a moment before slipping my hand into his. It was either dance with the monster or make a scene that would cost me more than my dignity.
The musicians shifted into a slow waltz. Fucking assholes. Did it on purpose. Torin pulled me close–closer than necessary–and I stiffened when his palm pressed flat against the curve of my back. A little too close to my ass.
"You look like you're walking into battle," he said, lips near my ear. "Relax, Zuri. You're mine now. This is a celebration."
I’m not yours yet. I thought, moving stiffly in his arms, resisting the urge to elbow him in the throat. He danced well, of course. Everything about him was too precise. Too calculated.
“You’re not like the others,” he said, voice a little too casual. “Most women are soft. Delicate. You’re…” his eyes raked over me, “strong.”
I said nothing.
“You train with warriors, don’t you?” he continued, clearly amused. “I can see it in your shoulders. The way you move. All that muscle. Sharp angles.” His hand traced a slow, suggestive path from my ribs to the curve of my hip. “Still…you’ve got good hips. Strong ones. For birthing.”
I nearly stumbled.
He chuckled at that, like it was some sort of twisted joke. “A strange blend of masculine and beautiful. Not what I expected. But I suppose the Moon Goddess works in unusual ways. Besides, I have spent countless years searching for my fated mate, but you will be a great substitute.”
My jaw clenched so tightly I thought my teeth might crack. My wolf wanted nothing more than to claw that beautiful, sculpted face.
“You’ll give me strong heirs once you’re matured enough,” he said simply, like we were discussing livestock.
If the fact that I haven’t started my cycle yet kept him away, I’ll have to pray it will never come.
“But you’ll have to soften, Zuri,” he continued. “All this edge… it’s unbecoming.”
“Is that so?” I managed to say, each word clipped.
“You really don’t like me, do you?” he asked, sounding almost amused.
“I don’t even know you,” I said evenly.
“Except the fact he’s a crazy lunatic who likes to kill women and their unborn children,” Fallon growled.
He twirled me once, then pulled me closer. His hand slid lower on my back, fingers brushing against skin.
He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek. “When we’re married and mated, you’ll understand. Speaking your mind freely, talking back, and undermining your Alpha–it won’t be tolerated. A woman’s duty is simple: loyalty, submission, and bearing pups.”
My stomach turned, but I forced my face to remain neutral. The room swirled with food and laughter and music, but it all faded behind the hum of rage pressing against my ribs.
"Besides," he continued, "power looks better on a man, don’t you think?"
I opened my mouth to retort, but stopped myself. Because if I opened my mouth, I wouldn't stop. So I smiled. Barely. He looked pleased.
“Good. I would hate to think a disagreement would cause a problem between the packs.”
When the dance ended, I excused myself with grace and went straight to my room. I didn’t know how or when, but one day, Torin would regret thinking I could be caged.