CHAPTER 37 — Raevan Confronts Azhara
POV: Raevan
The elders drone like old insects, circling the same arguments they’ve repeated for days—security, protocol, image, duty—but the words barely reach me. My thoughts stay fixed on one thing: Soraya hasn’t stepped foot outside her room since the attack.
No glimpse in the courtyard. No scent in the training yard. No quiet footsteps in the hall.
She is missing from the fortress the way the moon is missing from the sky—everything looks the same, but nothing feels right.
I dismiss the elders with a single wave, too tired to pretend diplomacy today. The moment they leave, Azhara slips from behind their circle, the picture of composed sorrow. She has wrapped herself in pale ivory silks, her hair braided with gold to emphasize delicacy. Anyone else might believe the act.
I did once.
“Raevan,” she says softly as she approaches, hands clasped together like she’s grieving. “You’ve been distant. I worry about you.”
I stare at her, unblinking. “Move. I’m not in the mood.”
She places herself directly in front of the doorway, blocking me. “We need to talk.”
“No,” I say. “We don’t.”
Her eyes shimmer with carefully managed tears. “Please. You’re hurting. I can see it. Let me help—”
“Azhara,” I interrupt, voice flat as stone. “If you pretend one more time that you care about my pain, I will lose the last shred of patience I have left.”
Her expression cracks—just a hairline fracture of irritation—but she repairs it so quickly most wouldn’t notice.
“I only want what’s best for Ashra,” she says gently.
“No,” I reply. “You want what’s best for you.”
Her breath catches, as if the accusation wounded her. “How can you say that?”
“Because I finally stopped lying to myself,” I say. “And I can smell the deception on you.”
Her face goes still.
Good. She knows I’m done playing.
I step forward, forcing her to tilt her chin upward to meet my eyes. “You lied about Soraya pushing you. You used a fall you crafted yourself to blame an innocent girl. You misled the elders. You hid the truth about the potion you fed me. You’ve manipulated this entire pack for months. And I’m finished letting you do it.”
The tiniest tremor runs through her shoulders. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You drugged me,” I repeat. “To make me see Soraya. To make me—” My jaw locks. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”
She flinches—not because she regrets it, but because the truth finally stripped her mask.
“I loved you,” she whispers harshly. “I still do. Everything I did was to protect us.”
“You don’t love me,” I say. “You love the crown. You love the power that comes with being tied to me. You love the future you imagined for yourself. But you have never once loved me.”
Her breath shudders. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I echo. “You want fair? Soraya nearly died in the market yesterday. Assassins came for her—because of you. Because you kept feeding this pack lies that make her a target.”
Her eyes flash with something sharp and jealous. “They fear her because she is dangerous.”
“They fear her because you made them fear her.”
“She’s the reason you turned away from me,” Azhara spits before she can stop herself.
There it is—the truth under her silk.
“You’re furious because even your magic couldn’t make me choose you,” I say quietly. “You pretended victimhood so the pack would pity you. You let them turn on her. And now you’re shocked the consequences have teeth?”
Azhara takes a step back, color rising in her cheeks. “I did what I had to do. If she becomes Luna, everything we built will fall apart. The elders already distrust her. The people whisper dark things. She’s a Zehrael—”
I move so fast she chokes off mid-sentence, my aura slamming into her like a sandstorm. “Do not finish that sentence.”
She stumbles, caught between fear and outrage.
“I won’t tolerate your poison anymore,” I say, voice low and dangerous. “Not against Soraya. Not against my pack.”
Her lips tremble again—but this time the tears aren’t crafted. They’re real rage. “You would throw away everything for her?”
“I would burn every kingdom between here and the ocean to protect her.”
Azhara stares at me like I’ve struck her. “You’re making a mistake.”
“No,” I say. “I made the mistake by letting you into my life in the first place.”
For a moment, she looks like she might scream. Instead, she breathes out slowly, icy calm settling over her.
“You think the elders will stand with you?” she murmurs. “You think they’ll support a girl who turned into a demon wolf in the middle of our capital? They fear her more than they fear Zarek. They will never accept her.”
“Then I will make them,” I say.
Her smile is brittle. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
“I’m thinking clearer than I ever have,” I reply. “And here is the last truth you’re going to hear from me: your lies end today.”
Her throat bobs. “You can’t prove anything.”
“I don’t need proof,” I say, stepping past her. “I only need to speak. And when I tell them what you did, they’ll believe me.”
Azhara’s breath hitches. The mask falls away for a heartbeat—exposing fury, desperation, and the bitter taste of losing.
“You’ll regret this,” she whispers.
I turn my head just enough for her to see the cold promise in my eyes. “No,” I say. “But you might.”
She staggers back, hands trembling, but her voice rises again—soft, broken, trembling, expertly crafted.
“Elders!” she calls to the hall. “Please—Alpha Raevan… he’s distraught! He’s lashing out. He blames me for things I never did. Please, talk to him—”
Elders turn. Wolves gather. Her performance begins again.
But this time, I don’t let her voice smother the truth.
I step into the center of the hall and speak louder, clearer, with the razor-edge of command.
“Azhara lied,” I announce, letting the words ring. “She lied about Soraya. She lied about the staircase. She lied about the potion. And she almost got an innocent woman killed.”
Gasps. Whispers. Shock ripples through the hall.
Azhara falters.
My gaze sharpens. “The pack will know the truth. All of it.”
Her face crumbles—not the act.
This time, the real fracture.
And the hall knows it.