"Did you see his face when the guard dropped him?"
For the first time in five years, I saw blood spilled again. The metallic scent hit me even from across the massive hall. It made my stomach clench.
The man who stepped out of the shadows was no ordinary warrior. His stance was too loose, too deadly. What happened next was faster than a heartbeat. He sliced the rogue Alpha down in one clean strike. No sound came from the blade. Then he just slid the sword back into its sheath and melted back into the shadows behind the golden throne. He was a statue made of death. Apex's personal killer.
Devlin, the King's advisor, set his jaw. He let out a sharp, ragged breath. I watched him settle back onto his seat without a word. The Moon Goddess had supposedly promised him no blood today. The hall dropped into a silence thicker than fresh mud.
I sat straight, watching Apex. He finally raised his eyes, meeting mine for a quick moment. It felt like a physical heat. Then he looked down at the rogue Alpha still gasping on the marble floor.
He'll call a healer, I thought, a last flicker of innocence.
The air shifted. Suddenly, it was cold. Apex finally moved from the throne. He knelt beside the dying man, perfectly quiet and calm. A nearby guard flinched and offered his blade. Apex took it. No hesitation. No ceremony.
He drove the knife into the rogue's chest.
Once. Twice. Again and again.
Warm blood sprayed across the white marble. It splattered the steps of the throne. The rogue's gasps turned into wet gurgles, then nothing. Silence. Death.
The whole chamber stood frozen. No one dared to move. Even Apex's two elder sisters only stared. It was as if they had gotten used to this dark side of him. The rumors called him Apex the Cursed. The stories had not lied.
He stood up. Blood dripped down his cheek and jawline. He walked back to his throne, his golden garments untouched. Guards rushed forward to drag the corpse away. Maids followed right behind them, scrubbing the marble until it gleamed. It was as if nothing had ever happened.
The music had been off for a long time. The dancers were still frozen in position. Elara quietly slipped back to her seat beside Gladys. Her words still echoed in my head.
Then Devlin, Apex's uncle and the King's advisor, approached. His hands were shaking when he placed the massive, spiked crown on Apex's head.
"All hail the new Lycan King," Devlin declared.
"All hail," the crowd echoed back. Their voices were shaken, hollow.
Goosebumps traveled over my arms. It was not because of the crown on his head. It was because his eyes had not left mine. Not for one single second of the slaughter.
"Are you okay, Callie?"
Derata cornered me the moment I stepped out of the massive throne room doors. I let out the breath I did not know I was holding.
"Callie." She pressed her voice low.
"I'm fine," I said. My voice was steady, even though my heart hammered against my ribs.
She studied me, her worry clear. I understood it. That rogue Alpha had mentioned Kellan, my brother. Derata still carried a connection to him from the past. The tension from the crowning clung to the air like smoke. Tusk, the old pack, was finished. The afterparty was starting right through the double doors.
Derata squeezed my hand gently. "Come. The feast is already starting in the side hall. Let's get a drink."
I offered a small, faint smile. I started to follow her.
Then he stepped into view.
Gladys.
He stood in our path like a wall. Derata froze instantly. Her eyes narrowed with clear contempt. She turned to me.
"I will be fine. Go on ahead."
She hesitated, her gaze flicking between Gladys and me. She nodded once and left.
Now it was just Gladys and me. His expression was impossible to read for a moment. Then a crack of wounded awe broke through.
"What happened between you two, why is he so interested in you?" he asked. His voice was low and rough.
I tilted my head. "Whu do you have a problem with it."
"Callie. We were mated for five years. We went through everything together," he argued. He took a step closer. "And now in one night, you cheated on me?"
I did not bother to answer. I was not in the mood for his old arguments. I turned to walk around him. He caught my wrist. His grip was firm.
"Callie." His voice softened, faltered. "You cannot stay here."
I stopped moving. "Why?"
"The Lycan King. He is dangerous. Unstable. That look in his eyes when he watches you. It is not normal. You need to leave this whole city."
His concern was about that gaze? That cold, searing look from the throne?
I pulled my wrist free with a sharp tug. I looked him straight in the eye.
"We are nothing now, Gladys."
His frown deepened. He leaned in closer. He lowered his voice, making it a harsh whisper.
"You are losing your mind. I am trying to protect you from a bloodthirsty psychopath. A freak. Did you see what he did to that rogue? What if he gets obsessed with you? Do you really think you can handle someone like that?"
I thought of the heat in Apex's eyes. The way it had burned right through me.
"I do not care," I told him, my voice steady as bedrock. "And you should not either. Who I end up with is none of your concern anymore."
I turned to walk away, done with the conversation. He grabbed my wrist again. This time his grip was tighter, bordering on painful.
"Callie."
A sound cut him off. Footsteps.
A figure approached down the corridor. It was Apex's personal messenger. The man's expression was blank, professional. He stopped and bowed deeply before me.
"My lady," he said. His voice was formal. "The King requests your presence in the private study."
Gladys's grip went rigid on my arm. I could feel the rage building in his muscles, the sharp spike of jealousy.
Good. Let him feel it. Let him know exactly what it feels like to be replaced.
I yanked my wrist free a second time. I gave a small nod to the messenger.
"Lead the way. Is he waiting right now, or should I change first?"