A bite from an Alpha King

Chapter Four

Valerio

“What do you mean you’re not going to execute her? She has to die!” Damian shouted, his voice echoing through my office.

I studied each man in the room, taking my time as I scanned their faces. Every time my gaze shifted to someone new, I saw him nodding in agreement with Damian’s outburst. When I reached the last person, my eyes landed on Garrett. He wasn’t nodding, but I could tell he agreed. His face had darkened, his anger simmering just beneath the surface. I could sense his power, his strength radiating off him, as if he were ready to handle the issue for me right now if I gave the order. But that was what defined a good beta.

My eyes slowly dropped to the knife lying on the desk before me, resting there like a taunt.

My mate… my own mate stabbed me with it. How?

I looked back at Garrett, seated before me, his eyes now slightly narrowed.

“What do you say?” I asked.

“I don’t think there’s any reason to hesitate.” His words were sharp but honest. He leaned forward slightly. “You came this close to death.” He held up two fingers, barely an inch apart.

“Had it struck your heart, it wouldn’t have mattered that Jane created the first antidote ever known. We wouldn’t have been able to bring you back in time.”

He was right. Jane was a miracle among us. just like that cure. Still, this wasn’t so simple for me. I looked away for a moment, staring out the window, contemplating.

“Why are you even thinking about this?” Damian pressed, stepping up behind Garrett, signaling his status just below Garrett as third in command. His eyes locked onto mine, studying me. “The law is clear. She committed treason, and that is punishable by death!”

Tell them, my wolf urged, his voice echoing in my head. Tell them who she is to us.

I can’t…

You want to kill her?

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. I knew the law.

But how can I be the one to rip her heart out?

Just thinking about it caused a sharp pain inside me. I groaned in frustration, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

So this is what it means to have a true mate?

I couldn’t bring myself to harm her, yet that only brought back the same question that had haunted me since waking from the ordeal: how could she have stabbed me? I shook my head, still troubled by the decision before me.

“Someone gave her that knife,” I said, drawing the attention of every man in the room. “Someone who likely knew exactly what it was meant for. That means there’s someone behind her, and I have a pretty good idea about who.”

Unease rippled through the room as they absorbed my words.

“How can you be certain that she isn’t alone?” Damien challenged, though I wasn’t offended by him questioning my judgment. There was a reason each person had earned their place here in this room.

“Look at the craftsmanship.” I gestured toward the knife first, and everyone stared. Then I motioned to the next item we had found on her. “Look at this map. Look at the details.” I pointed to the writing on the map—the marked location, the trail leading her directly to us.

“She smells like a lone wolf, meaning she has no pack to aid her. And unless she has been stalking us for far longer than any of us ever expected or noticed, I don’t see how she could have executed this mission on her own or how she could have gotten the knife.”

Everyone remained quiet, clearly contemplating my words.

“And you all know the rules: werewolves are forbidden from touching or even working with silver. But this knife… it’s not something a lone wolf could have gotten their hands on without help. It would have had to be done subtly, and it would have been expensive. Her lack of food and ruined clothes doesn’t scream wealth.”

No one spoke for a second. Then Damian said, “However she got it, the rules are still clear.”

I folded my hands. “Her execution could easily become a catalyst for rebellion. She could become a martyr.”

“But she has to die—”

I raised my hand, cutting Damian off. “I know,” I replied coldly. “But it’s not that simple.”

“So what do you suggest, my king?” Garrett asked carefully.

I contemplated the question for a moment, wondering how we could both come out of this unscathed and perhaps even on the same side. Because I already knew one thing with certainty: I couldn’t kill her.

Straightening in my chair, I answered, “A fair fight. One on one. Until one of us surrenders or… dies.”

Immediately, I could tell my men were displeased. Murmurs filled the room, their doubts clear.

“My king, you realize that if she wins, she’ll claim your title and everything you own, right?” Garrett inquired.

“Of course I do!” I snapped. “So I won’t let her win, will I?”

Despite my confidence, I could tell the unease lingered among them. I felt the same. The thought of what lay ahead weighed heavily on me. A fight meant blood would be spilled. But if I could make her surrender… I would never have to end her life. Once again, merely thinking about holding her warm heart in my hand made my own ache beyond anything I had ever experienced. My hand instinctively moved to the spot where she had stabbed me, so close to my own beating organ.

“Hmmm… what does she have against me?” I muttered to myself.

“She wants revenge,” came an unexpected voice.

I looked up to see Zane standing in front of my desk, arms crossed. I felt confused as I met his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

Everyone in the room turned toward him. I saw him hesitate for a moment, his lips parting slightly, yet no words came out.

“Well?” I pressed.

Zane exhaled in defeat. “Her name is Octavia,” he said, deepening my confusion.

How did he know her name?

“And…”

“And?” I mimicked impatiently.

“She…” He paused once more, causing my irritation to flare.

“Yes?”

“Is… my sister.”

A second of silence passed before I roared, “What?” The walls of the castle seemed to tremble with my fury. I shot up from my chair, slamming my hands onto the desk in front of me. My men lowered their heads, submitting to my anger.

“You failed to mention that before!” I growled at him.

“She’s not related to me by blood,” Zane rushed to explain, his eyes still fixed on the ground in submission.

“Then why do you claim her as your sister?”

Zane let out an irritated snarl, as if my repeating the connection infuriated him.

“My father,” he said.

“What about the mad king?”

Zane flinched slightly at the mention of him, yet he stood among us for a reason.

“He found her in the woods many years ago. She’s nothing more than a rogue’s child.”

“And he took her in anyway?” I asked, confused.

“He took her in to train her to be a killer. He honed her skills from the moment she could walk.”

His explanation felt… incomplete, as though pieces were missing—pieces necessary to fully understand why Octavia was connected to both Zane and the mad king. Narrowing my eyes, I studied Zane carefully, listening to his heartbeat for any sign of deceit. It remained steady.

“Why?” I inquired.

Zane shrugged. “My father was a paranoid man. He always believed someone was coming for him. He likely saw Octavia as his ace up his sleeve, someone who could avenge him if the time ever came. He wanted the last laugh.”

Sitting back down, I leaned into my chair and rubbed my chin thoughtfully. Zane’s father had been a powerful opponent—skilled, cunning, suspicious of everyone. It was no surprise he had prepared one final trick. I had to admire his strategy. Though I doubted he had anticipated that his ‘ace’ would turn out to be my mate. It seemed that, in the end, the Moon Goddess had the final laugh. Still… this might work in my favor.