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Hit Me Again. I’m Still Standing.” — The Alpha King Walked Into the Ring and Knelt Before the Woman His Own Council Had Tried to Break / Chapter 3 / 10

Chapter 3 - BLOOD ON THE MARBLE

The world seemed to slow down to a crawl.

Aldric lunged to intercept, but he was a fraction of a second too late. Mard’s eyes gleamed with sadistic triumph as the poisoned blade aimed straight for Senna’s heart.

He had underestimated her, just as he had in the arena.

Senna didn't scream or cower. Years of navigating the treacherous political alleyways of the Low Field had taught her how to survive without fangs or claws. As Mard lunged, she dropped low, spinning on her heel with a dancer's grace, and brought her heavy iron-buckled trade satchel up with all her remaining strength.

CRACK.

The heavy metal buckle caught Mard squarely across the jaw, sending teeth and blood flying across the polished marble floor. The counselor stumbled backward, dropping the poisoned dagger with a metallic clatter.

Before he could recover, Aldric was on him.

The Alpha King grabbed Mard by the collar of his fine velvet tunic, lifting him bodily off the floor with one hand. The sheer fury radiating from Aldric was enough to make the room's torches flicker and nearly extinguish.

"You dared touch her," Aldric whispered, his voice dangerously quiet.

"My King... mercy..." Mard choked out, his face turning purple as the grip on his throat tightened.

"You speak of mercy after orchestrating murder?" Aldric hurled Mard across the room. The counselor crashed hard against a stone pillar, sliding down into a motionless heap as unconsciousness claimed him.

The four guards dropped to their knees instantly, bowing their heads in total submission. "All hail the Alpha King," their leader chanted, his voice trembling. "And the Luna."

Senna exhaled a long, shaky breath, her adrenaline finally crashing. Her knees buckled slightly, but before she could hit the floor, strong arms caught her waist.

Aldric pulled her against his chest, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ear. The golden mark on his wrist blazed with intense heat, syncing with the matching glow on Senna’s arm.

"I told you," Senna muttered against his shoulder, her voice strained, "I don't need rescuing."

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"I know," Aldric replied softly, burying his face in her braided hair, inhaling the scent of rain, steel, and stubborn survival. "Which is why I respect you all the more. But you are bleeding again."

He scooped her effortlessly into his arms, carrying her toward the royal chambers' private healing alcove, ignoring the blood pooling on the pristine marble behind them. Ithinar had changed forever tonight, and the war for the pack's soul had only just begun.

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