Claimed By The Enemy Alpha

Chapter Five

Faye

I now knew how the Moon Goddess felt when wolves prayed to her. The pride, the regality, the power that came with knowing you held the fate of others in your hands. That was exactly how I felt when everyone bowed before me as the priest made me my father's second in command.

"By the power invested in me by the Moon Goddess, I crown you the new Beta of the WhiteMoon Pack. Arise and take up your sword."

I rose to my feet and smiled as the hall erupted in applause and whistles. The same hall that was empty the day my husband refused to show up was now filled with both people I knew and those I did not. The sound of their approval washed over me, and for the first time in years, I felt like I belonged somewhere.

After the ceremony, the applause did not end there. People kept praising me as I walked through the crowd, touching my arm and telling me how proud they were of the woman I had become. Some of them had never spoken to me before, too afraid of Scarlet's wrath or too indifferent to care about the Alpha's useless daughter. But now they were lining up to shake my hand and offer their congratulations.

A group of little girls even formed a little fan club and ran to meet me, with their pink dresses swirling around their knees.

"We love you, Faye. You are so cute," the trio of pink dresses chorused, their high voices carrying over the noise of the crowd.

My heart swelled with pride as I crouched down to ruffle their hair, feeling the soft strands slip through my fingers. These were the same children whose mothers had refused to let them come near me before, afraid that my bad luck might rub off on their daughters or that Scarlet might punish them for associating with me.

"Thank you," I said, smiling at them before turning to the mothers and fathers who praised me for being brave and for not giving up when everything was stacked against me. They told me I was an inspiration to their own children, a living proof that even the weakest among us could rise if they refused to stay down.

That day was the only day I felt genuinely happy after my mother died, and I was sure she was watching me from heaven with a smile on her face.

A few hours after the whole thing ended, I padded to my bedroom in hopes of getting a good night's sleep. My body was tired from the ceremony and the weeks of secret training, and my mind was tired from the constant vigilance of living a double life. I had barely reached my door before a hand reached out from the shadows and grabbed my arm hard enough to bruise.

I reacted without thinking, my training taking over. I twisted my body and broke the grip before slamming my attacker against the stone wall. My forearm pressed against his throat, and I was ready to strike again when I recognized the face staring back at me with hatred burning in his eyes.

"I knew it was you," I said, my voice flat and cold as the stones beneath my feet.

"You bitch." Stephen snarled at me, his breath hot and sour in my face. "I will kill you."

"Not before I kill you first," I bit back, pushing harder against his throat. Seriously, what was his problem? I had won the competition fair and square, and he was still whining about it like a child who had lost his favorite toy.

"You are going to regret doing what you did. Do you hear me? You will regret it." He swung at me, a wild and clumsy punch that I dodged easily without even thinking. His eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, and he reeked of cheap wine and his own sour sweat. The bastard was drunk, probably had been drinking since the ceremony ended.

"The only one who will regret anything is you when I punch you in the face," I warned him, releasing my grip and stepping back out of his reach. "Go to your room now and sleep it off before you do something even stupider than usual."

He flashed me a grin that did not reach his eyes, a grin full of promise and menace. Then he turned away, stumbling slightly as he walked down the corridor, his boots scraping against the floor.

"You will regret what you did," he called over his shoulder, and then he disappeared around the corner.

I ignored his comment and went into my room, closing the door behind me and leaning against it for a moment. Stephen was all talk and no action, or so I told myself. He was drunk and humiliated, and his threats meant nothing.

I did not pay attention to him, but three days after that, I wished I had.