The knock came just after dawn, sharp against the silence of the early morning. The sound barely echoed before Leon was out of bed, already moving. Celine stirred under the covers but hadn’t yet sat up when he reached the door.
A palace steward stood on the threshold. He looked young and shaken, his skin pale, his eyes darting like he was afraid of being followed. He held out a folded scroll bearing the royal crest, his hand trembling as he passed it over. He didn’t speak. Just bowed quickly and turned, disappearing down the corridor with the urgency of someone desperate to be gone.
Leon closed the door with slow precision. He broke the seal on the scroll and unfolded it, eyes scanning the contents. He read the message once. Then again. His body locked up—no visible emotion, no sound—but something shifted in the way he stood. The tension in his frame told Celine everything before he even turned around.
“Leon?” she asked, her voice low and raw with sleep. She sat up fully, the blankets falling to her waist, her hands braced against the mattress. “What is it?”
He didn’t answer right away. He crossed the room in three quick steps and handed her the scroll, his eyes dark, his expression carved in stone. He didn’t speak, but the weight of the paper in her hand felt heavier than it should have.
She unfolded it and began to read.
The words blurred for a second before sharpening into focus. The results from the meal had come back.
The sauce had been poisoned.
There was no doubt.
It was expertly done—tasteless, odorless, measured with care. Not enough to kill. Just enough to do damage slowly, invisibly. The intent was clear and deliberate.
The target hadn’t been her life.
It had been her future.
The compound was designed to interfere with the body’s ability to bear children.
Celine’s stomach dropped. Her hands shook as she lowered the scroll.
But Leon was already moving—his shirt half-on, weapons being strapped to his belt, his voice low and lethal as he called for his Beta, his guards, the royal handlers assigned to their wing.
“This is a declaration,” he said. “Someone tried to ruin her. In my presence. Under the King’s roof.”
He turned to Celine, eyes fierce, his wolf just beneath the surface.
“From now on,” he said, “you don’t open a door unless it’s me on the other side.”
She blinked. “Leon—”
“I mean it, Celine. You don’t take a drink from anyone. You don’t walk into a room unless I clear it first. You don’t trust anyone unless you’d stake your life on them.”
“I can handle myself.”
“I know you can,” he said tightly. “But I won’t let you be caught off guard again. They’ve crossed a line now. Which means I won’t hold back anymore.”
His voice dropped. “Someone wants you powerless. Someone wants your future stolen. That’s not politics. That’s war.”
He kissed her then—fast, rough, like he was marking her with his breath.
“Let me hunt them,” he whispered. “Let me show them what it means to touch what’s mine.”
Celine touched his cheek, eyes shining but steady. “I trust you.”
“Then stay safe,” he said. “And let me tear this place apart.”