Chapter Nine
1102 Words
Hazel’s POV
The maids didn’t curtsy to me before.
Now three of them dropped into full bows when I walked into the kitchen, hands still shaking from Alaric’s office. “Luna,” the head cook whispered, eyes down.
I almost dropped the empty water pitcher. “I’m not”
“Alaric claimed you,” a young omega said, voice awed. “In front of Lady Ella. The whole pack knows. He said you were his.”
My blood turned to ice. Then fire. Then ice again.
He said you were his.
Not to me. Not to Aurella. To Ella. To Dominic. To the pack.
I set the pitcher down before I shattered it. “Where’s Aurella?”
“Sleeping. The Alpha posted guards.” The head cook glanced at the door. “You shouldn’t be alone, Luna. Not after…”
Not after he claimed me.
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I bolted.
Not to the nursery. Not to the gardens where I’d hid as a slave.
To the only place Vincent wouldn’t expect me to go: the herb storeroom.
It was dark, damp, and smelled like the cellar I’d grown up in with my mother. Safe. Hidden. I pressed my back to the door and finally, finally breathed.
“She is MINE.”
I’d heard it through the nursery door. Not the words. The roar. It had shaken the windows. Shaken me.
And now the whole pack thought I was his Luna.
I wasn’t. I was an omega. A former slave. The daughter of a woman exiled for trying to kill him.
The daughter of a traitor, Ella had spat.
Cleric.
Dominic’s words echoed from Alaric’s office: “what he did to Cleric.”
My father.
My hands started shaking again. Vincent had put him there. Vincent had framed my mother. And now Vincent knew Alaric had…
“You’re hard to find, little omega.”
I spun.
Vincent stood in the doorway, blocking the only exit. He wasn’t smiling like he had this morning. This was worse. This was pleased.
“How did you”
“The herb room?” He stepped inside, shutting the door. The lock clicked. “Your mother used to hide here too. When my brother was hunting her.”
“My brother”. Alaric’s father.
Bile rose in my throat. “Get out.”
“No.” He took another step. “Not until we discuss your new… position.”
He said position like it was a joke. Like I was a joke.
“The pack thinks you’re Luna,” Vincent said softly. “Aurella thinks you’re hers. And Alaric”He tilted his head. “Alaric thinks you’re his mate.”
I flinched. Mate. He hadn’t said it. But the way Vincent said it, it sounded like a sentence.
“Let me tell you what happens to omegas who trick Alphas into claiming them,” Vincent murmured. “First, the council questions his fitness. Then, they question Aurella’s safety. After all, if he’ll claim the daughter of the woman who tried to poison him…”
He trailed off. Let me fill in the blanks.
They’ll take Aurella.
My knees nearly gave. “You’re lying.”
“Am I?” Vincent reached into his coat. Pulled out a folded parchment. Old. Yellowed. “Do you know what this is? Your mother’s confession. Signed. Witnessed. By me.”
I stared. My mother couldn’t write.
“She confessed to poisoning the toddler Alpha,” Vincent said, voice gentle now. Almost kind. “She named her accomplice, too. Cleric. Your father.”
The room tilted. “No.”
“Oh, yes. Cleric’s been rotting in my cells for twenty years because of it. Screaming her name. Screaming yours.” Vincent smiled. “And now his traitor daughter is in Alaric’s bed. Poetry, really.”
I lunged. Not thinking. Not caring. My nails aimed for his eyes.
He caught my wrist. Easily. Twisted.
Pain shot up my arm. “You touch me again,” he hissed, breath hot on my face, “and I’ll tell Alaric you came to me. Begged me to help you fake a mating mark. To trap him. Just like your mother tried to trap his father.”
He shoved me back. I hit the shelves. Glass jars rattled.
“Stay away from him,” Vincent said, adjusting his cuffs. “Stay away from the girl. Or I’ll make sure the council sees this confession. And Alaric will have to choose: You, or his niece.”
He unlocked the door. Paused.
“Oh, and Hazel?” He didn’t look back. “If you tell him I was here? I’ll kill Cleric. Slowly. Like I killed your mother.”
The door shut.
I slid to the floor. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
Like I killed your mother.
My mother didn’t die from thugs.
Vincent killed her.
And my father was alive. Tortured. Because of me.
The door burst open.
I didn’t look up. Couldn’t.
“Don’t touch me,” I whispered. “Please.”
Heavy footsteps. Then silence.
Then….
“Take your hands off what’s mine.”
My head snapped up.
Alaric filled the doorway. Not in hunting clothes. Not calm.
Feral.
His eyes were black, not blue. Claws out. Fangs down. His chest heaving like he’d run through walls to get here.
And he was looking at Vincent. Who stood in the hallway, arms crossed, smiling like he’d won.
“I wasn’t touching her, Alpha,” Vincent said, too smooth. “We were just… talking. About her father.”
Alaric’s growl shook the jars on the shelves. “You said her name.”
“So did you,” Vincent said. “In front of the whole pack. ‘She is MINE.’ Remember?”
Alaric moved.
One second Vincent was smirking in the hallway.
The next he was being strangled, Alaric’s hand around his throat, slammed against the stone wall hard enough to crack it.
“Alaric!” Dominic’s voice. From somewhere behind. “Not here! The council”
“She was crying,” Alaric snarled. His voice wasn’t human. “In my house. Because of him.”
Vincent choked, clawing at Alaric’s wrist. “You… touch me… and you prove… everything…”
Alaric’s claws pierced skin. Blood welled.
And he looked at me.
Right at me. Over Vincent’s shoulder.
His eyes were still black. Still feral. But in them was a question.
Do I kill him?
For me.
The Alpha of millions was asking me if he should murder his uncle in cold blood.
And I realized, with horror, that I wanted to say yes.
- Writer
