TO SATE AN ALPHA'S FURY

Sophie's POV

Thick air filled the hut. Tension rose. I stared at Alaric. My heart hammered against my ribs.

He looked at the empty bowl. His vulnerability vanished. A wall of cold stone replaced it.

"Who are you?" Alaric whispered. His voice carried a demand.

I backed away.

"I already told you, I'm just a chef. I know nothing about your mother."

I know everything about your mother, my mind screamed. I know she was murdered when you were very young and you really miss her.

Please don't kill me for knowing.

I swallowed hard and kept my mouth shut.

Heavy hooves thundered outside. Armor clanked. Hounds barked. The door flew open.

Five men in silver breastplates entered. Their swords already drawn.

At the sight of Alaric, they dropped to their knees one by one.

"Alpha! The man in front shouted, breathless.

"We thought we had lost you!" the chief guard shouted, his voice thick with relief.

"Alpha! Are you okay?" The third man asked.

"Do I look fine to you?" Alaric said. Standing up slowly.

The man who had trembled over a bowl of food a moment ago was gone as if he never existed.

He straightened to his full height. His presence filling the tiny room until the hut felt too small to contain him.

He didn't look at his men. He looked at me.

"Capture them," Alaric said. His voice flat and devoid of emotion.

For a heartbeat, I thought I'd misheard.

"Wait. What?" I gasped.

He pointed a finger at Martha. She was already trembling at a corner.

"The girl lives on forbidden pack grounds. That is a crime of treason. And this one..."

He looked at me. His eyes trailing over my ruined blazer and messy hair. "This spirit disrespected the King. Chain them."

"Are you serious?" The words came out of my mouth as a guard grabbed my arms. He pulled them behind my back.

"I saved your life!"

"You were literally crying two minutes ago!" I yelled.

Alaric didn't say a word. He walked past me like he didn't hear me.

He intentionally brushed his shoulder against mine. Close enough that the scent of pine washed over me again.

"The ghost is loud," he muttered to his commander without looking back. His eyes fixed on the door.

That was when it hit me.

He wasn't cruel because he doesn't feel anything. He feared the feelings I triggered.

The trek to the palace was long. Mud coated my legs. My muscles felt like lead.

We reached the stone gates of the Blackwood fortress. Guards dragged us into a courtyard. The air smelled of horses and incense.

A woman stood in the center of the courtyard.

She was beautiful in a dangerous way. She wore a deep wine color silk. Gold pins held her dark hair.

As we approached. Her eyes locked onto mine.

This should be Elara. Alaric's concubine. History called her the Viper of the North. My mind whispered.

Alaric, she called. Her voice was musical. Her eyes stayed on me as she rushed to him. She reached for his wounded shoulder.

"The guards said you had been taken by the Moon Ghost." She stated while giving me a stern look.

"Why is it still breathing? Why is it in our home?"

Alaric caught her wrists. He stopped her touch. 'The ghost has skills." He said. "Skills that would be wasted in a grave."

Elara's lips tightened. For just a second, the mask slipped. Jealousy flashed raw and ugly across her face.

She smoothed her expression.

"Skills?" She echoed lightly. "She's a curse. The elders say..."

"I don't care what the elders say," Alaric barked, his voice cracking like thunder.

"She will be given a special residence in the palace. She is mine now. To do with her as I please." He added.

He leaned closer to Elara. His voice dropping very low. "Or are you jealous my love?"

Elara braced herself. She forced a fake laugh that didn't reach her eyes. "Jealous? Of a spirit? No one takes what is mine."

She looked back at me.

You are far too beautiful to stay alive, her eyes said. I will make sure you burn.

Take them away. Alaric commanded. He turned his back. I will pass judgment tomorrow.

Elara followed him closely. Holding him tight.

The special residence turned out to be the palace cell.

It was a small room at the back of the palace, with a tiny barred window up high in the wall and heavy iron gate.

The only furniture was a heap of straw and a single iron bucket.

They threw Martha and I inside. The iron gate slammed shut with a finality that made my heart sink.

"I'm so sorry." I whispered. Sliding down the wall. "This is all my fault. I should never have come to your hut."

Martha was quiet for a long time. She sat in the straw. Hugging her knees.

"Don't be sorry," she said softly.

"I've lived in that hut my whole life. She glanced around the cell. Then up at the tiny window. "At least now I've seen the palace."

"You wanted to be here?" I asked surprised.

She nodded slowly. "I'd always dreamt of working in the Royal Kitchens. My mother said that if one can cook for the King, one can change the world."

A small, sad smile touched her lips.

"Silly, right?"

"It's not silly." I said. Thinking of my own father.

"Food is the only thing that actually reaches people. Especially people like him." I added.

We spent the night curled up. To keep each other warm. I didn't sleep. Every time I closed my eyes. I saw Alaric's golden eyes and that single drop of tear.

I wasn't just a chef to him. I was a reminder of something he couldn't escape.

The next morning, the guards returned.

They didn't give us food or water.

They dragged us into the palace hall. The chamber was massive, filled with rows of elderly men in robes; the Council.

Alaric sat on a throne of oak and bone looking every bit the tyrant history has described.

The moment I was brought in. Everyone began to whisper.

"She is the moon ghost..." "See what she is wearing..." "She is a witch..."

I stood in the center of the room. My knees shaking uncomfortably.

Alaric stared at me. His face unreadable.

Elara sat beside him. Her fingers drumming restlessly on the chair's armrest.

An old man with white beard stood up. He spoke for the Council.

"Alpha, the law is clear. Any spirit sent to punish the pack must be returned to the earth. To keep her here is to invite the wrath of the Moon Goddess." He said.

Alaric stood up slowly from the throne.

The room became quiet like a graveyard.

His boots clicking sharply on the stone floor.

He walked straight toward me. Stopped so close that his whole body blocked my view.

He turned to the Chief Guard standing nearby. He held out his hand.

Without a word, the guard took out his sword and placed it in Alaric's palm.

My heart stopped for a second. I saw the steel of the blade flash the light of the morning sun.

The Council demands justice. Alaric roared. And I am a King of my word.

He looked at me.

For a split second. I saw something in his eyes; Regret? Hesitation?

But it vanished as quickly as it appeared. He raised the sword high above his head. His muscles tensed.

Martha was crying behind me.

I closed my eyes. I thought of my father. I thought of the library. I thought of cooking butter on low heat.

I waited for the cold bite of the steel.

"For confusing my senses with your food. This is my judgement!" Alaric roared.

The sword came down with a terrifying force.