30 Days with The Ruthless Alpha King

No to the Alpha

~Lucian

Cressida’s words struck me like a silver blade to the chest. For a long moment, neither of us said anything. My wolf surged forward inside me, snarling and snapping, demanding blood, demanding control, demanding I crush this defiance before it spread like poison through my pack.

I was Alpha King Lucian Blackstone. Entire kingdoms trembled at my name. Warriors fell to their knees before me. I had ended lives for whispers for less.

Yet this small, broken woman stood before me with tears streaming down her flushed cheeks and fire in her eyes, daring me to follow through. And I couldn’t. The realization twisted something ugly and unfamiliar deep in my gut.

I could kill her right now. Moon Goddess knew she wouldn’t be the first of them that didn’t survive the thirty days. So why did my hands remain clenched at my sides? Why did my wolf’s rage suddenly feel hollow?

My gaze dropped to her face. She looked exhausted, shattered in a way that I couldn’t quite explain. Tears carved shiny paths down her skin, but she refused to lower her eyes. Even now. Even after everything I had taken from her. She still refused to bow.

Every word she had thrown at me earlier landed exactly where it hurt most. My mate is dead because of you. My people are slaves. None of it was a lie. And I hated her for making me feel it—for making me see myself through her eyes as the monster I had always embraced.

My wolf paced restlessly beneath my skin as it tried to show me that She mattered. The thought came unbidden, soft and insistent. I shoved it down hard. No. She was a just a transaction. Nothing more.

Cressida looked at me one last time. The defiance in her gaze dimmed into something far worse than anger or fear. Pure, quiet disappointment. Then she turned away, her shoulders trembling slightly, and walked toward the door.

I could stop her if I wanted. One sharp command. One word from my Alpha voice would have frozen her in place. But the order never left my throat. The door creaked open, then clicked shut behind her with devastating finality. The chamber suddenly felt vast and empty, the fire in the hearth doing nothing to chase away the cold that settled over me.

Silence pressed in. Then something deep inside me snapped.

A roar tore from my throat. Raw, primal, echoing off the stone walls like thunder. I grabbed the nearest chair and hurled it across the room with all my strength. It smashed against the far wall in an explosion of splintered wood. A heavy oak table followed, crashing into the hearth and sending sparks flying. Glass shattered as I swept a vase to the floor, the sharp fragments scattering like stars across the stone. Books flew from shelves, pages ripping as they landed. The iron fire poker bent in my grip before I flung it, embedding in the opposite wall. Another chair fell victim to my bare hands; I ripped it apart, wood cracking and splintering beneath my fingers until my palms bled.

It still wasn’t enough. The helplessness clawed at me. The frustration. The unfamiliar ache of wanting something I couldn’t simply take or destroy. My breathing came ragged and harsh, chest heaving.

Then the pain struck.

Sharp, burning agony exploded through my chest like molten metal poured directly into my veins. The curse. It always waited for moments like this—when my control fractured. I staggered, dropping hard to one knee. The room spun violently. My vision blurred at the edges as darkness crept in. I tried to stand, but my legs gave out. The last thing I saw was the shattered wreckage of our once-orderly chambers strewn across the floor like a battlefield.

Then everything went black.

When I finally opened my eyes again, weak sunlight streamed through the tall windows. My body felt heavy, every muscle screaming in protest. The remnants of the curse still burned faintly beneath my skin, a cruel reminder of my limits. I sat up slowly, rubbing a hand across my face, and surveyed the damage. Broken furniture, shattered glass crunching under my boots, torn books with pages fluttering like wounded birds. A complete disaster.

My first thought was of her. Cressida. Was she alright? Had she found somewhere safe to cry? Was she still shaking from our confrontation? I cursed violently under my breath. This was exactly the problem. Alpha King should not be worrying about the feelings of a slave. Yet I couldn’t stop the thoughts from flooding in.

I got ready almost immediately, ignoring the aches, then headed for the door. Every instinct roared at me to hunt her down, to pull her close and remind her who she belonged to. Instead, I forced myself toward the fortress entrance and the duties waiting beyond. Work. Control. That was what I needed.

Elara was climbing the stone steps as I emerged. She took one look at my face, then glanced past my shoulder toward the ruined chamber. Confusion flickered across her features, quickly shifting to realization and then irritation. She sighed heavily, the kind of exasperated sigh only a younger sister could master. “You’re an i***t, Lucian.”

I kept walking without a word. For once, I didn’t argue because deep down, she was probably right.

The pack house was already crowded when I arrived. Elders sat around the long wooden table, maps and reports scattered across its surface. Several warriors stood guard nearby. Thorne was speaking as I entered, his voice steady and commanding.

“…third report this week. The rogues are gathering strength in the eastern forests. We need to decide on scouts before they grow bolder.”

I took my seat at the head of the table. The meeting continued around me discussions of border security, supply routes, spy networks, potential alliances. Normally, I would have been fully engaged, cutting through suggestions with decisive orders. Today, the words floated past like distant noise. My thoughts kept drifting back to Cressida. To the tears on her cheeks. To the way her voice had cracked when she said she hated being here. To the disappointment in her eyes as she walked away.

“Alpha”

The room had fallen silent. Every eye was on me. Thorne looked unimpressed but maintained a respectful tone.

I blinked, forcing focus. “Send the scouts. Two teams. Report back in three days.”

The discussion resumed, but Thorne’s gaze lingered on me. He knew something was wrong. He had known me too long for secrets.

After the meeting dragged to an end, I headed straight for the training grounds. The sharp, earthy scent of churned dirt and honest sweat greeted me immediately. Steel clashed loudly. Warriors sparred across the wide field, shouts and grunts filling the air. Normally, the sight steadied me, reminded me of my power. Today it barely touched the storm inside.

Several warriors noticed my arrival. The atmosphere shifted instantly as postures straightened and eyes dropped to the ground.

I needed something to take the edge off. I needed a fight.

“Who’s first?” I growled, my voice carrying across the field.

A few men became suddenly fascinated by their boots. Others found urgent reasons to move elsewhere. Thorne appeared at my side, already pulling off his shirt. “p*****s,” he muttered. Then louder, “I’ll do it.”

We shifted without another word. Power exploded through my body. My massive black wolf towered over the field, fur like midnight, muscles rippling with raw strength. Thorne’s deep-blue wolf faced me, impressive but still smaller.

We collided instantly. Dust exploded beneath our paws. We circled, snarling, testing each other. I drove him back with sheer size and power, forcing him onto the defensive. But something was wrong. My movements were off. Mistimed steps, delayed reactions. Tiny cracks in my focus.

You alright? Thorne’s voice echoed through our mind link, thick with sarcasm.

Why wouldn’t I be?

Because you’re fighting like s**t, he shot back. You’re distracted. Starting to crack, Alpha?

Rage ignited like wildfire. I launched forward, faster and harder than before. Thorne’s eyes widened. For one terrible second, I lost control completely. My claws slashed downward too deep, too vicious. A sharp yelp tore from him. Blood sprayed hot across the dirt. His body crashed heavily to the ground.

The entire training field fell deathly silent.

I shifted back immediately, horror cutting through the fury. Thorne shifted too, clutching a deep gash across his chest and shoulder. Blood soaked his skin, but he looked more annoyed than in pain.

“Damn it,” I muttered, offering my hand.

He stared at it for a beat, then grabbed it. I pulled him upright. We didn’t speak of what had happened. We both understood the truth. I was losing control and that scared me more than any rogue army or enemy Alpha ever could.