Chapter 38
CHAPTER 38
“I’ll finally know who you are p>
His voice doesn’t just carry–it cuts through the hall, straight into my bones. My stomach flips. Alaric is
moving toward me, deliberate and slow, like a predator already sure of his kill. The priestess’s booming voice follows, “Give honor to the chosen woman of the night p>
Applause erupts. Claps echo off marble and glass, bouncing until the whole chamber sounds like it’s collapsing in on me. My lungs squeeze. No fucking way. No way in hell am I the Goddess’s pick.
Then-
“NO p>
The screech rattles the chandeliers above. My hands fly to my ears as Camila shrieks beside me, her voice sharp enough to split glass. “No, no, no! There’s no way! There’s no fucking way she’s the chosen one!” Gasps sweep through the crowd. A few masks swivel toward us. I feel their eyes stabbing into my skin. Camila steps forward, shaking with fury, pointing at me with trembling fingers. “You think you can fool everyone with your pathetic act? You’re nothing but an Omega! A nobody! You dare stand there like you’re worthy of him p>
I grit my teeth. Every instinct tells me to move, to vanish into the crowd, but I freeze, legs like stone.
Her eyes dart wildly. “Where is it? Where the hell is it p>
The crowd parts for an Omega who hurries forward, clutching something. My chest caves when I see it. My notebook. The one that vanished days ago. My throat goes dry, blood draining from my face.
My notebook contains everything from the pack to when I was here now. Every single thing.
“No,” I whisper, too soft for anyone to hear. My hands twitch at my sides.
Camila rips it from the Omega’s grip and whirls back to me, triumph glittering in her eyes. “This is hers!” she shouts to the crowd, holding it aloft like a holy relic. “This little wretch planned all of this. Every detail. Written down, right here p>
The crowd erupts again. Questions thrown like daggers-“What does it say?” “Is this true?” “She plotted p>
Alaric turns his head to me, his maroon eyes narrowing, burning straight through my mask. My breath hitches, and for a second, I’m not sure which burns more–the Goddess’s moonlight on my skin or the weight of his
stare.
Shit. This is gonna be one hell of a read.
I try to glance away, desperate for any distraction, but my gaze catches on something across the chamber. My stomach plunges. Wade. Standing there, face ghostly pale, eyes locked on me. Recognition flickers. I choke on a breath. If he sees me–if he knows–it’s over.
“Read it!” someone from the back yells. “What does it say p>
Camila smirks, that venomous curl of her lips making bile rise in my throat. “Gladly. ” She flips the pages with deliberate slowness, enjoying every second of the attention until she lands on the one that kills me inside. Damn it. She lifts her head and stares straight at me before reading aloud.
“He’s here again,” her voice rings out, sick with glee, “I don’t know why he keeps coming when I’ve told him I have a husband at war. Though not technically my husband, as he hasn’t announced our marriage yet p>
I feel every word slice across my skin. My chest burns. The air is gone.
Camila doesn’t stop. She never fucking stops.
This was when Alaric was visiting the pack for the fifth time since Wade left for war.
“He is the King. So why in the world would he come all the time? I’ve received all sorts of things from him now -a thousand roses and lilies in a bouquet Forever know how that can be put in a bouquet, he made Successfully unlocked!
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CHAPTER 38
a confession in front of the pack to which I had them all keep it a secret because I do not want my husband to know… and a goddamn golden statue of himself. Who even sends that to someone they like p>
The chamber explodes with noise. Laughter. Gasps. Shock. My ears ring, heart racing so fast I swear I might black out.
And Alaric-
Alaric is no longer standing still. He knows the exact moment he did that.
He knows who I am now.
His steps are measured as it echoes heavily against the marble floor as he moves toward me. The crowd parts without a word, bowing their heads, masks dipping low as if instinct tells them they’re about to witness something monumental.
Every inch he closes, I take one back. My pulse thrashes against my throat. My body screams at me to run but my legs are traitors, dragging me backward instead of away. The moonlight doesn’t let me hide–it follows me, marking me, burning me alive under the weight of his stare.
And he doesn’t break it. Not once.
His eyes pin me down, amber flames blazing brighter with every step, and I know. I know. The man who’s haunted my shadows, the King the Goddess has marked, the Lycan everyone fears-
He finally knows too.
“No-” I murmur as I bump against one of the pack members behind me.
Camila clears her throat so loudly it feels like she’s about to announce a fucking royal decree as she’s not fucking done. Her voice cuts through the noise of clinking glasses and the subtle murmur of music from the ballroom, the smug little witch standing in the middle of the crowd with my journal splayed in her hands as her goddamn stage script.
“I met him again,” she reads, exaggerating every syllable like she’s auditioning for a play. “I’m in a different pack now. I do not know why I feel this way seeing him again in the lake. He looks incredibly handsome p>
“Oh, my fucking goddess,” I whisper under my breath, my cheeks heating up like someone shoved me into a furnace. Of all the shit she could’ve picked–why that page? My eyes dart toward the crowd, praying nobody is paying attention, but a few wolves have stopped mid–bite, ears twitching. And worse, I can feel him. His stare.
Alaric.
I make the mistake of glancing up, and there he is–still walking towards me, now with a glass of wine in hand he might have taken from a walking waiter, that lazy, wolfish smirk stretching his lips. I’m sure he knows exactly what she’s reading. Like he’s enjoying this humiliating display at my expense. His bloody red eyes pin me from across the room, sharp as blades, and I swear I forget how to breathe.
Camila isn’t done. She flips another page with an exaggerated sigh. “Gods, you’re pathetic, whoever wrote this. Listen to this one. ‘He was the only one willing to save me out of that cell. I should have known better. I should have chosen him over W p>
My stomach drops. I know what comes next. Wade.
Wade cannot know.
“STOP!” The word rips out of me, louder than I intend. The music halts. Conversations cut off. Every head in the ballroom whips toward me.
Camila blinks, startled, then narrows her eyes, lips curling. She was about to say Wade’s name out loud. In front of Wade, who’s sitting not twenty feet away. My chest tightens so hard it hurts.
I can’t let him know. I can’t let anyone here know. If Wade hears his name tied to the journal, he’s gonna know it’s me. it’s over. Everything I’ve been hiding, everything I’ve been surviving for–it will all collapse.
“I said stop,” I bite out, forcing the words even as my voice trembles. “You’ve had your fun p>
I’m shaking, not from fear but from the suffocating hold of too many eyes, too much danger. My pulse thrums
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CHAPTER 38
painfully in my ears. I don’t even notice the shift in the air until the hairs on the back of my neck rise.
He’s closer.
I turn, and Alaric is no longer a few meters from me. He’s cutting through the crowd like a predator, his gaze never leaving mine. Everyone seems to instinctively part for him. His presence rolls in heavy and suffocating, and for a second, I feel caged.
When he finally stops, he’s just a breath away. His voice is low, rough enough to scrape down my spine.
“You were just here,” he murmurs. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere p>
The way he says it–though I belong to him, all I’ve been hiding, like he’s already won–makes my knees threaten to give out. Heat flares in my chest and my throat goes dry.
No. Not here. Not in front of them. Not with Wade sitting right there.
I spin on my heel and run.
I fucking run as far as I can.
The alcohol coursing through me makes the floor tilt, but adrenaline shoves me forward. I hear the crash of glass behind me as I shoulder into a waiter’s tray, bottles of champagne exploding across the marble floor. Someone shouts my name, but I don’t stop. I can’t stop.
I run through the open archway, down the steps, across the stone courtyard, lungs burning. The night air slaps me cold, but it isn’t enough to sober me. The heels dig into my ankles, and the damn dress tangles around my legs as I sprint toward the empty training field.
The party’s behind me now. The laughter, the music, the safety of the crowd. Out here, under the pale blaze of the full moon, it’s just me. The massive stretch of grass glitters faintly with dew, eerily quiet without the usual grunts and clashing of warriors sparring. Everyone’s at the party. Everyone except the monster I left behind.
I risk a glance over my shoulder.
Alaric isn’t running. Of course he isn’t. He’s walking. Fucking walking. His strides are calm, and long. He already knows I can’t escape him. As though he’s savoring the hunt.
My chest squeezes tighter, panic mixing with the sharp thrill of being chased. I veer into the woods. Branches claw at my arms, my dress snagging against bark, ripping fabric with sharp little snaps. My breath is ragged. My pulse is so loud I can barely hear the crunch of his steps anymore.
But I know he’s there. He’s always there.
A root catches my foot, and pain shoots up my ankle as I crash to the ground. “Fuck!” I hiss, clutching at it, but
I shove myself upright, stumbling deeper into the trees. The smell of earth and damp leaves clings to me. The cold air tastes metallic in my throat.
Somewhere behind me, branches snap.
Shit. He’s close.
Okay, what’s the worse he’d do right?
I duck behind a massive trunk, pressing my back against the rough bark. My chest heaves, sweat slick against my skin despite the chill. I squeeze my eyes shut, whispering under my breath.
Let’s just…
“Fine. Fine, I’ll fucking stop. Just don’t–don’t drag me out like a criminal p>
I swallow, trying to catch enough breath to string words together, It’s Alaric, I need something to say. Something that won’t make me sound like prey. My mind scrambles for excuses, threats, anything-
“You know, I’ll just p>
But when I finally turn, it’s not him.
Amber eyes don’t meet mine. Instead, I’m staring into the crazed black–rimmed gaze of a rogue wolf.
Its fur is mottled brown, patchy, mangy. Drool strings from its jaws, dripping onto the leaves. The stench hits
CHAPTER 38
me next–rotten meat and bile. Its lips peel back in a snarl, low and guttural, vibrating through the air.
My stomach lurches. My ankle throbs. My heart slams so hard I can’t tell if it’s trying to escape or if I am.
The wolf takes a step forward, claws sinking into the dirt.
It’s a rogue.
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