My Alpha Claimed Me, Then Sent Me to Die

POV: Wren

Alaric said nothing.

The sword trembled between us. Blood spread beneath the white fabric over my heart, but he stared at my face as if the wound were already fatal.

"Coward," I whispered.

"Wren, give me the blade."

Marrok found enough breath to shout from the floor. "Kill her! She brought an army to our gates. She has the Elders on their knees. Do your duty!"

Fear moved through the hall. Wolves who had lowered their weapons now looked from my crimson eyes to the exiles filling the courtyard. Someone called Alaric's name. Another voice answered. Soon the whole chamber pressed its expectation against him.

High Alpha. Protector. Monster-killer.

He tried to pull the sword away.

I held on.

"I will turn it on myself," he said. His voice cracked. "I will give them my life, my title, anything. Just let go."

He would die for me.

He still would not choose me.

That truth settled with terrible clarity. Alaric could bleed, burn, and swallow poison for me in secret. In front of his pack, love remained the one sacrifice he could not make.

I released the blade.

Relief crossed his face. Around us, my exiles shifted in the courtyard. They had followed me because I promised a new law, not because they wanted to watch me beg one man for love. Liam lowered his gaze. Sarah stared at the blood on my gown with open satisfaction. Marrok saw the hesitation in Alaric and smiled.

That smile decided me.

If I simply took the throne, Alaric would keep telling himself he had protected me. The pack would keep believing I was the danger and he was the sacrifice. Nothing would change. They needed to see what their fear could make him do. He needed to see it too.

"No," I said.

Black mist spilled from my hands.

"You cannot choose, so I will choose for you."

The Devourer rose through the great hall. Darkness climbed the pillars and swallowed the torches. Stone cracked overhead. My army held position outside, but inside the chamber every wolf saw what I wanted them to see.

Emma appeared first.

The baker's little girl hung above the crowd, crying for her mother. Noah, the blacksmith's son, struggled beside her in claws made of shadow. They were perfect illusions, shaped from faces I remembered and fear I understood too well.

Their real bodies remained safe beside their parents.

No one noticed.

The baker's wife screamed. The blacksmith lunged forward. The hall erupted into panic.

I laughed, making the sound cruel enough to convince even myself.

Alaric went white.

"Wren, stop. They are children."

"Then save them."

The shadow claws tightened around Emma's illusion. Her scream cut through the chamber.

Marrok raised his head. Triumph shone through his terror. "You see? The Devourer has consumed her. Strike now, or she kills them all."

The pack took up the demand.

Kill her.

Save the pups.

Kill the Devourer.

Alaric looked at me.

I gave him every chance to see through it. The false shadows cast no reflection in the silver goblets. Emma's real mother held the real child against her skirts. Noah stood behind his father, alive and confused.

But Alaric saw only my smile and the nightmare I had built from his greatest fear.

His face broke.

Then it emptied.

The High Alpha raised his sword.

I opened my arms.

He crossed the distance in one violent breath.

Silver entered my chest.

Cold came first. Then pressure. Then the brutal heat of my own blood as the blade passed through my heart and out between my shoulder blades.

The illusions vanished.

Emma stood by the wall, alive. Noah stared at the sword inside me. The black mist collapsed, exposing a silent hall full of wolves who now understood what I had forced Alaric to do.

His hands opened.

The sword struck the floor.

"Wren."

He caught me before my knees hit. His palm pressed over the wound as if strength could force my blood back inside.

"No. No, look at me. Stay with me."

His tears fell onto my face.

I touched his jaw. The gesture belonged to the dream that had started all of this: his shaking hands, my blood, the curse waiting on my tongue.

"I chose this," I said.

"I love you." The words tore out of him too late. "I love you. I loved you when you were twelve and followed me through the training yard, and I hated myself for what that love became when you were grown. I loved you in the pool, in the tower, in every room I locked you out of. Please."

Pain squeezed what remained of my heart.

"You should have said it before the sword."

"I will say it every day. Just live."

The Devourer was dying with me, but one thread of her power remained. I drew it through the wound and wrapped it around Alaric's soul.

His eyes widened.

"Wren, what are you doing?"

"Making sure you remember."

The Blood Moon blazed through the broken roof.

"By that moon, I curse you. You will not age. You will not sicken. You will not die. Every morning, you will wake with my blood on your hands. Every night, you will search for me and find only the moment you chose them."

"Take it back."

"I cannot."

"Then bind me to you. Wherever you go, take me."

For one weak second, I wanted to. I wanted to forgive him before the dark took me. I wanted his arms to mean safety instead of surrender.

Then I saw Marrok watching from the floor, satisfied even now because Alaric had obeyed.

"No," I whispered. "You wanted a life without choosing me. Now you have one."

Silver light leaked from my skin.

Alaric pulled me tighter, but my body had already begun to break into luminous fragments. They slipped through his fingers and rose toward the Blood Moon.

His scream followed me through the shattered ceiling.

The last thing I saw was the real Emma hiding against her mother, alive because my illusion had never touched her.

The last thing I felt was Alaric reaching for empty air.

For one hundred years, he would remember that reach.