Of Blood And Lies

Chapter 3: The King's Shadow

{Avina}

The children instinctively sought protection from their guardians, burying their faces in trembling hands—their wolves recognizing the threat of superior predators. My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

“Instead of embodying security like they’re supposed to, these assholes only bring fear and unease,” I whispered. The words left my mouth before I could stop them. A mistake. A dangerous, stupid mistake.

The man with brown hair and a neatly trimmed goatee turned his head with deliberate slowness. His gaze locked onto mine—sharp, assessing, and far too knowing. Alpha dominance radiated from him in waves. The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smirk. Something colder. Recognition.

He’d heard me.

Heat flooded my face even as ice shot down my spine. My throat constricted. Every muscle in my body screamed at me to move, to march out there and meet his stare with the defiance burning in my chest. My fingers trembled against my palms, nails biting into skin. My jaw locked so hard my teeth ached. But my feet stayed rooted to the door frame.

He began to make a heavy-footed approach. Not good.

Each step he took was measured, unhurried. A predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run. The crowd parted for him like water around stone, eyes dropping, shoulders curving inward. Submission. The instinct that kept wolves alive when facing superior pack authority. My heart slammed against my ribs.

Run.

Fight.

Do something.

But my body betrayed me, locked in place as he closed the distance. Ten feet. Five. Close enough that I could see the leather of his uniform was worn at the edges, scarred from use. Close enough to smell iron and earth and something darker—the scent of a wolf who’d killed recently.

He stopped just outside the doorway. Towering. Silent.

“Repeat what you said.” His voice was low, controlled. The kind of quiet that preceded violence.

My mouth went dry. Every instinct I’d honed over the years—the ones that told me when to smile, when to deflect, when to make myself smaller—screamed at me to drop my gaze. Apologize. Play the part of the contrite female who’d spoken out of turn. But that burning thing in my chest, the one that had always gotten me into trouble, flared hot and bright.

I met his eyes. Held them.

“I said,” I began, keeping my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands, “that your presence seems to unsettle people more than reassure them.” I tilted my head slightly, as if considering. “Though perhaps that’s intentional.” The air between us crackled. His jaw tightened, a muscle jumping beneath the goatee.

Then he moved.

He pressed forward, his presence a physical force that drove me backward into the shop. I stumbled over the threshold to avoid our bodies touching, my spine hitting the corner of a shelf. He didn’t follow me inside—didn’t need to. The threat was clear in the way he filled the entrance, blocking out the light, trapping me. His palm slammed down onto the smooth sanded wood of the display table beside the door. The crack echoed like a gunshot. Apples scattered, rolling across the floor in every direction, one tumbling past my feet.

I flinched. Hated myself for it.

Movement in my peripheral vision—his unit had noticed the confrontation, were beginning to approach. But without even looking, he raised his free hand over his shoulder in a sharp, commanding gesture. They halted mid-stride. Obedient. Waiting.

“Keep a lookout for four rogues,” he said, each word deliberate. His eyes bored into mine with predatory intensity. “And a boy. They’re a threat to pack security— attempting to breach our territorial boundaries and destabilize the Blood King’s authority.”

My breath caught as his hand shot out, claiming one of the apples from the table that had not fallen. He bit into it, the crisp snap cutting through the tension like a blade. Juice glistened on his lips as he chewed, watching me. Assessing.

He turned and walked away, his stride as deliberate as his approach. “Another thing…” His voice sliced through the air as he wheeled back to look at me. “You carry yourself with a boldness and defiance that borders on recklessness, woman. A dangerous dance you lead, especially one as pretty as yourself. Tread with more caution.”

The weight of his attention lingered even as he rejoined his unit, that cold, calculating interest telling me this wasn’t over. I didn’t move until they disappeared around the corner. Only then did my knees buckle, and I caught myself against the frame of the shelf, gasping like I’d been underwater.

I’d survived. Barely. But the look in his eyes—that cold, calculating interest—told me I hadn’t escaped at all.

I rushed to close the door, slamming it shut. My hands shook so violently I could barely turn the lock. The click echoed in the sudden silence, too loud, too final.

What the hell was I thinking?

My back hit it as I spun around, before I slid down to the floor, knees drawn to my chest, trying to force air into lungs that had forgotten how to work. The adrenaline drained out of me in waves, leaving nothing but cold, stark terror in its wake. I’d played this game before—deflecting unwanted advances, using sharp words to keep civilian males at arm’s length. It worked because they had something to lose. Reputation. Pride. The social contract that kept our fragile pack society from complete chaos.

But the Ashmere? They were pack law. Sanctioned. Untouchable. Royal authority made flesh.

He could have killed me. Right there in the doorway, in front of witnesses, and no one would have stopped him. No one would have dared. My breath hitched. I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the spinning in my head.

Stupid. So incredibly stupid. They wouldn’t forget this. Wouldn’t forget me. I’d marked myself as defiant, as someone who needed to be reminded of her place in the pack hierarchy.

The next time—and there would be a next time—he wouldn’t be generous.

I should have been planning. Thinking of ways to disappear, to make myself smaller, invisible. To survive. As I sat there on the cold floor of my shop, one thing became brutally clear: I needed to be more careful. Smarter.

My defiance was a luxury I could no longer afford.