Chapter Three
1214 Words
Selene
The silence after the guard vanished was unbearable.
Maren’s glare burned holes into Dorian’s skull, and his eyes — storm-gray, flickering with both anguish and something darker — refused to leave me. I wanted to look away, to pretend this wasn’t happening, but his voice dragged me back.
“Selene…” His tone cracked. “If I hurt you, I need the truth. Not a shield. Not silence. The truth.”
My hands shook against my throat. The bite still throbbed, a raw brand. Fenrir’s whisper coiled in my head.
**“Tell him, little Luna, and you shatter him. Protect him… and you protect yourself.”**
“I told you, I’m fine.” My words rang hollow.
“You’re lying,” Maren snapped. “And if you won’t admit it, I will.”
Dorian’s head snapped toward her, voice breaking into a snarl. “You’ll do no such thing.”
“Try and stop me,” she hissed.
I shoved myself between them. “Stop! Both of you! The council already suspects something’s wrong — if they hear of this, they’ll tear him apart before sunrise!”
“Then let them!” Maren’s voice trembled with fury. “Better the council’s judgment than you in a grave.”
Dorian flinched as if she’d struck him. He whispered, hoarse, “You think I’d kill her?”
“You almost did,” Maren fired back.
His eyes met mine, begging. “Selene, don’t let her say that. Please.”
I couldn’t speak. Because part of me didn’t know the answer.
---
Dorian
Her silence was worse than any blade.
I’d faced war. I’d faced betrayal. But nothing compared to the way Selene couldn’t meet my gaze.
I wanted to vomit. My hands shook, slick with her blood. The image of her crumpled beneath me, throat bared, eyes terrified — it wouldn’t leave me.
But I hadn’t been there. Not fully. The world had gone dark, guttural, hot. When I came back, she was bleeding.
Something inside me had snapped.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, gripping until it hurt. “I don’t remember. I swear it. But something took me. Something—”
**“Don’t you dare,”** a voice snarled inside my skull. My chest seized.
I froze. That voice wasn’t mine.
It was low, mocking, hungry.
Selene’s eyes flicked up to mine. Did she hear it too?
I blinked hard, swallowing the madness. “Whatever happened out there… I won’t rest until I know.”
Maren barked a bitter laugh. “Know? You *know*. You lost control. You hurt her.”
I rounded on her, fury burning through my shame. “And you think I’d ever do that to her by choice?!”
Her lips pressed into a razor-thin line. “Choice or not doesn’t matter. If you’re dangerous—”
“Enough!” Selene’s voice cracked, desperate.
She grabbed my wrist, trembling. “Please… both of you. No more fighting. Just… take me back before someone else comes.”
Her touch seared me. Guilt drowned me. And still… beneath it, that dark voice purred.
**“Mine.”**
---
Selene
The walk back was suffocating.
Maren flanked me, protective, silent but seething. Dorian walked ahead, shoulders rigid, fists clenched so tight I thought bone might break.
And through it all, Fenrir hummed in my head.
**“Do you see, little Luna? He’s breaking. Soon he will need me. And when he begs… oh, how sweet that will be.”**
I bit my tongue, nails digging into my palms. I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t—not with Maren watching, not with Dorian so fragile.
When we reached the gates, guards exchanged uneasy glances. Whispers spread like wildfire. Blood on my neck. Blood on Dorian’s mouth. Eyes narrowed, suspicions bloomed.
“The council will call you,” one muttered.
Dorian growled low in his throat. “Let them. I’ll answer.”
But his eyes flicked to me, pleading again.
And I knew. He had no answers to give.
---
Dorian
The council chamber smelled of smoke and judgment.
Elders lined the curved table, eyes like vultures, drinking in every drop of weakness. Selene sat beside me, too pale, too quiet. Maren stood near the door, arms crossed like a guard dog daring anyone to test her.
“Alpha.” Elder Jorah’s voice boomed, slick with condescension. “There are… troubling reports.”
I leaned forward, jaw tight. “Reports?”
“That during the Luna’s marking, something went… wrong.” His eyes slid to Selene. “Is that true?”
Every instinct screamed to deny it. To snarl, to threaten, to bury the rumor before it took root.
But my voice cracked. “It was… more painful than expected.”
“Painful?” Elder Neris arched a brow. “It left her bleeding. And you—” her gaze cut like a blade—“stained in her blood. How do you explain that?”
My throat closed. No words came.
Maren stepped forward, fists clenched. “He can’t explain it because he doesn’t know. He lost control.”
“Maren!” I roared.
Her glare was unflinching. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I opened my mouth, but Selene’s hand clamped onto mine under the table. Her whisper was barely audible. “Don’t.”
Her eyes begged me not to lash out. To hold on. To survive this moment.
But the silence was damning.
The elders smelled blood.
---
Selene
They circled us like wolves.
“Luna,” Elder Neris said sweetly. “Perhaps you should tell us. Did the Alpha hurt you?”
My heart pounded. Fenrir’s laughter licked my mind.
**“Say yes, and he falls. Say no, and you fall with him. Choose.”**
My throat burned. I whispered, “No.”
Maren cursed under her breath.
The elders exchanged looks. Disbelief. Distrust.
Elder Jorah leaned forward. “Then how do you explain the bite that refuses to heal?”
Gasps rippled through the chamber. I clapped my hand to my throat. The wound still burned, raw, glowing faintly.
Fenrir’s mark. Not Dorian’s.
My lips trembled. Words tore out before I could stop them. “Because it wasn’t him.”
The chamber stilled.
Dorian’s head whipped toward me, eyes wide. “Selene—?”
Maren’s gasp cut the air. “You’re telling them?”
I couldn’t stop. The dam had broken. “It wasn’t Dorian who marked me. It was… something else. Something inside him.”
Gasps. Murmurs. Elders leaning closer like carrion birds.
I squeezed my eyes shut and whispered the name. “Fenrir.”
The silence was suffocating.
And then Elder Jorah exhaled, long and heavy. He exchanged a look with Neris, and for the first time, their eyes held not confusion… but recognition.
“So,” Jorah murmured. “The curse is real after all.”
---
Dorian
The words sliced me open.
Curse. Real.
They knew.
They had always known.
And Selene—sweet Selene, bleeding, trembling—had just damned us both by speaking it aloud.
The elders’ voices rose, overlapping. Panic. Plans. Accusations.
And through the chaos, that voice in my head roared with triumphant laughter.
**“Finally.”**
- Writer
