Chapter 9
The next morning, my schedule was a wall of Alpha audiences.
Territorial disputes. Resource negotiations. Ancient grudges. I handled them with clinical precision—the same focus that had mapped viral genomes in a field hospital under fire.
Wolves who'd once whispered "barren Luna" now addressed me as "Your Majesty" with sweat beading their temples.
I felt no satisfaction. Just efficiency.
At 2:00 PM, Dominic entered my office.
"He's here."
"Which he?"
"Alaric Black. Requesting a private audience. He's... insistent."
I signed the document before me. Set down the pen.
"Send him in. Five minutes."
Dominic nodded. A flicker of something—concern? amusement?—crossed his ancient features before he withdrew.
The door opened.
Alaric filled the frame like a storm cloud.
Dark suit. No tie. Top button undone—a concession to the distress rolling off him in waves. Dark circles beneath golden eyes. Jaw shadowed with stubble.
He hadn't slept.
Good.
"Sit," I said. Didn't stand. Didn't look up from my papers.
He sat. Slowly. Like the chair might bite.
Silence stretched.
Then: "You left me."
I looked up. "Correction. You drove me out."
"I didn't know—"
"That I could hear your thoughts?" I let that land. Watched the blood drain from his face. "Every time you lied about 'border patrols.' Every time you came home smelling like her. Every thought about how you'd 'manage' me while keeping your pregnant mistress."
His chest heaved. "Nora—"
"Dr. Laurent."
He swallowed. "Dr. Laurent. I was wrong. I was—"
"A liar. A cheater. A man who called his fated mate defective while breeding another woman." I folded my hands on the desk. "Is there a pack matter you need adjudicated, Alpha Black? Because personal groveling isn't on my schedule."
He stood abruptly. The chair scraped. He rounded the desk—fast, too fast—and dropped to his knees before me.
The second time in two days.
"I will spend eternity making this right." His voice was gravel and glass. "The bond—it's still there. I feel it. You feel it. We're still—"
"We're nothing." I stood. Looked down at him. "I dissolved the mating claim three years ago. The paperwork is filed with the Council. You are not my mate."
"Paper doesn't break a true bond—"
"No. Betrayal does."
He went silent. His amber eyes glistened.
I stepped around him.
"Your five minutes are up."
At the door, I paused. "One more thing. You'll be receiving a formal inquiry regarding your pack's treatment of a Laurent bloodline under your protection. Negligence of a dormant Queen is a Council offense."
He turned on his knees. Pale. "You're charging me?"
"I'm informing you. The Council investigates. I merely provide testimony."
I opened the door.
"Goodbye, Alpha Black."
The door closed between us.
And if my hands shook—just barely, just once—no one saw.
---
Territorial disputes. Resource negotiations. Ancient grudges. I handled them with clinical precision—the same focus that had mapped viral genomes in a field hospital under fire.
Wolves who'd once whispered "barren Luna" now addressed me as "Your Majesty" with sweat beading their temples.
I felt no satisfaction. Just efficiency.
At 2:00 PM, Dominic entered my office.
"He's here."
"Which he?"
"Alaric Black. Requesting a private audience. He's... insistent."
I signed the document before me. Set down the pen.
"Send him in. Five minutes."
Dominic nodded. A flicker of something—concern? amusement?—crossed his ancient features before he withdrew.
The door opened.
Alaric filled the frame like a storm cloud.
Dark suit. No tie. Top button undone—a concession to the distress rolling off him in waves. Dark circles beneath golden eyes. Jaw shadowed with stubble.
He hadn't slept.
Good.
"Sit," I said. Didn't stand. Didn't look up from my papers.
He sat. Slowly. Like the chair might bite.
Silence stretched.
Then: "You left me."
I looked up. "Correction. You drove me out."
"I didn't know—"
"That I could hear your thoughts?" I let that land. Watched the blood drain from his face. "Every time you lied about 'border patrols.' Every time you came home smelling like her. Every thought about how you'd 'manage' me while keeping your pregnant mistress."
His chest heaved. "Nora—"
"Dr. Laurent."
He swallowed. "Dr. Laurent. I was wrong. I was—"
"A liar. A cheater. A man who called his fated mate defective while breeding another woman." I folded my hands on the desk. "Is there a pack matter you need adjudicated, Alpha Black? Because personal groveling isn't on my schedule."
He stood abruptly. The chair scraped. He rounded the desk—fast, too fast—and dropped to his knees before me.
The second time in two days.
"I will spend eternity making this right." His voice was gravel and glass. "The bond—it's still there. I feel it. You feel it. We're still—"
"We're nothing." I stood. Looked down at him. "I dissolved the mating claim three years ago. The paperwork is filed with the Council. You are not my mate."
"Paper doesn't break a true bond—"
"No. Betrayal does."
He went silent. His amber eyes glistened.
I stepped around him.
"Your five minutes are up."
At the door, I paused. "One more thing. You'll be receiving a formal inquiry regarding your pack's treatment of a Laurent bloodline under your protection. Negligence of a dormant Queen is a Council offense."
He turned on his knees. Pale. "You're charging me?"
"I'm informing you. The Council investigates. I merely provide testimony."
I opened the door.
"Goodbye, Alpha Black."
The door closed between us.
And if my hands shook—just barely, just once—no one saw.
---