Leon slammed the door open, guards barely stepping aside in time as the Alpha of Crimson Fang strode into the center of the hall, eyes burning, cloak billowing like shadow behind him. Celine followed her husband. He wasn’t dressed for court—he was dressed for war. Dark leathers, blades at his side, power radiating off him like heat from a forge.
The Lycan King rose slowly from his throne. The courtiers stilled. No whispers. No movement. Just the electric hum of violence threatening to break the gold-trimmed silence.
Maeron’s voice was cool. “Alpha Leon.”
Leon didn’t bow. “Someone tried to poison my mate.”
A ripple of tension shot through the room. “You don’t speak in accusations without proof,” Maeron replied, his tone sharpened with steel.
“The meal was tested. It was poison.”
The King’s eyes narrowed. “And now you’re accusing my court of conspiracy?”
Leon’s voice was low and hard. “I’m accusing your palace of failure.”
The room tensed.
“You promised safety. You offered protection.” His fists clenched at his sides. “Someone tried to take everything from Celine. You think just because we’re guests here I won’t tear this place apart, stone by stone?”
The King stepped down from the dais, slow and deliberate. He was taller, broader—but Leon didn’t move.
Two alphas. Two predators.
The weight between them was thick, sharp enough to press against the skin.
“You’re overstepping,” the King said, voice quiet but cutting.
Leon didn’t blink. “You haven’t seen overstep. But you will, if anything else touches her.”
Around them, guards shifted. Members of the court backed away.
The growls rumbling from both men weren’t posturing anymore. They were seconds from losing control.
Then Celine stepped forward.
“Stop!”
The sound of her voice sliced through the tension like a blade. She didn’t pause. She moved quickly, her steps firm, placing herself between them without hesitation.
She faced Leon first. Her hand pressed to his chest. “Breathe,” she said quietly. “Please.”
His chest rose and fell, the sound of his breathing rough and uneven. But he didn’t look away from the King. His wolf was still there, just under the surface, but her touch anchored him.
The growl eased.
Celine turned to Maeron. Her voice stayed steady.
“Your Majesty, you called me rare. You said my life mattered.”
His jaw tensed. “It does.”
“Then act like it,” she said. “Help us. Or prove you only care when it serves you.”
Silence fell again. A different kind. Tighter. Watching.
Maeron’s eyes lingered on her, searching. Then he stepped back.
“I’ll order a full investigation,” he said. “No limits. No protections. No one is off the table.”
Leon didn’t answer. He only gave a tight nod. It was enough—for now. But the threat still burned in his eyes.