[Daphne’s POV]
The servant's passage is cramped and dark, smelling of dust and disuse. Xander leads me through with one hand on the wall, the other supporting my weight.
We need to know what Connor is saying.
We reach a section where thin cracks in the stone allow sound to filter through. Xander presses his finger to his lips, and we both go still, barely breathing.
"—not about to let you punish my mate without proper investigation." Connor's voice carries through the wall, sharp with indignation.
"Your mate attempted to murder mine." Hector's response is measured but cold. "What investigation is required beyond that fact?"
"It was an accident! Talia said—"
"Talia lied." The Alpha command in Hector's voice makes even me want to submit, and I'm not even in the room. "I can smell deception, Connor. I've ruled this pack for twenty-five years. Do you truly think I can't tell when someone is lying to protect themselves?"
A pause. Then Connor, more cautiously: "Even if... even if she did push Daphne, it wasn't with intent to kill. Just to scare. To remind her that she's not—"
"Not what?" Hector's voice drops to something dangerous. "Not worthy of being Luna? Not deserving of respect? Not entitled to basic safety within her own pack?"
Through the cracks, I can glimpse movement—Hector standing, moving around his desk with predatory grace.
"Your mate shoved mine off a cliff into deadly rapids," he continues, his voice barely contained fury. "If Daphne hadn't shifted for the first time, hadn't discovered a wolf powerful enough to save her, she would be dead. Your Talia would have murdered the Luna. Do you understand what that means?"
"Father—"
"It means execution or exile under pack law." Hector cuts him off. "Those are the only acceptable punishments for such an offense. But I'm being lenient. For your sake. Because you're my son and I don't want to see your mate's head separated from her body."
The casual brutality of the words makes my stomach turn.
"Talia is confined to your chambers," Hector continues. "Under guard. That is mercy, Connor. She gets to live. She gets to remain in the pack. All I require is that she never approaches Daphne again, never speaks to her, never so much as looks at her wrong."
"That's—"
"Generous?" Hector's voice turns sharp. "Yes. It is. So I suggest you accept it graciously and keep your mate in check. Because if she tries anything like this again—accident or not—I will not be lenient a second time."
Silence stretches. Then Connor, subdued: "Understood, Alpha."
"Good. Now leave. I have preparations to make for the royal arrival."
Footsteps move toward the door. It opens, closes. Connor's presence disappears into the hallway.
Beside me, Xander is vibrating with barely contained rage. Through our bond, I feel his fury—at Connor, at Talia, at the injustice of his father's "leniency" toward someone who tried to kill me.
He moves before I can stop him.
We slip out of the servant's passage, following Connor's retreating form. Xander's hand finds the back of Connor's shirt, yanking him into the nearest supply room with enough force to slam him against the wall.
I follow, closing the door behind us. The space is tiny—storage for linens, barely big enough for three people. Connor's eyes go wide when he sees us both.
"What the fuck—"
"You're protecting her." Xander's voice is deadly quiet, his hand still fisted in Connor's shirt. "Talia tried to murder Daphne, and you're protecting her."
"She's my mate—"
"She's a murderer." Xander slams him against the wall again. "And you're the reason she hated Daphne enough to try. Years of you poisoning everyone against her, making her a target, turning cruelty into entertainment. This is your fault."
"Xander, stop—" I start, but he's not listening.
"I should kill you right here." His claws extend, pressing against Connor's throat. "For what you did to her. For what you let happen. For every fucking moment of torment you put her through."
Connor's face has gone pale. His eyes dart between us—Xander's rage, my presence—and something shifts in his expression. Recognition. Fear.
But it's not fear of Xander.
His gaze locks on me, and suddenly he's not looking at the weak omega he tormented. He's seeing something else entirely. The wolf that emerged from the river. The power I carry now. The Luna who could destroy him with a word.
He drops to his knees.
The movement is so sudden, so complete, that Xander actually releases him in surprise. Connor bows his head, his whole body trembling.
"I'm sorry." The words come out broken, desperate. "I'm sorry for everything. For the rejection, for the cruelty, for being the worst possible mate. For turning the pack against you. For—for all of it."
I stare at him, stunned. This is Connor. Cruel, vicious Connor who delighted in my suffering. Who made my life hell and called it love. Who rejected me publicly and detailed my intimate failures for everyone to hear.
And he's bowing. Apologizing. Shaking with genuine fear.
"I won't tell Father about you two," he continues quickly, the words tumbling over each other. "I swear on the Moon Goddess, I won't say anything. About the library. About what I saw. I'll keep silent. Just—please—"
"Please what?" Xander's voice is sharp with suspicion.
"Don't hurt me." Connor's voice breaks. "Your wolf—Daphne, your wolf is—I felt it. When you emerged. The power. It's not natural. It's not—" He swallows hard. "You could kill me. I know you could. And I deserve it. I know I deserve it. But please—"
He's terrified. Genuinely, bone-deep terrified. Of me.
Through our bond, I feel Xander's confusion matching my own. Connor shouldn't be this afraid. Yes, my wolf is powerful, but he's an Alpha heir himself. He has his own strength, his own status.
Unless he felt something I don't understand yet. Something in my wolf that goes beyond size or power. Something that screams danger to his instincts in ways neither of us can explain.
"I was a terrible mate," Connor continues, still bowing. "I was cruel and sadistic and I made your life hell because I enjoyed it. Because I'm weak and pathetic and hurting you made me feel powerful." His voice cracks. "But I won't do it again. I swear. I'll tell Talia to stay away from you. I'll never speak against you. I'll—I'll support you as Luna. Whatever you need. Just please don't—"
"Get out." My voice surprises me—carrying authority I didn't know I possessed. Luna command. Wolf dominance. Something that makes Connor flinch and scramble to his feet.
"Thank you," he breathes, backing toward the closet door. "Thank you, Luna. I won't—I'll never—"
He flees before finishing the sentence, practically running down the hallway.
Xander and I stand in the cramped closet, both trying to process what just happened.
"That was..." Xander trails off, at a loss.
"Strange," I finish. "He was terrified. Actually terrified."
“Good riddance,” Xander spit, and I can’t help the nervous giggle escaping me.
My wolf stirs inside me—proud, powerful, certain of her right to dominance. She's not apologizing for scaring Connor. She's satisfied by it.
"We should get you back to bed," Xander says. "Before my father realizes you're gone." I nod and take his hand.
So we return to the chambers. Xander helps me in bed, makes sure I’m comfortable and leaves through the servant's passage before Hector returns.
When Hector enters, I pretend to read some ancient book about pack’s hierarchy, as I don’t know it myself.
"Good to see you feeling better," he says, and it’s genuine. "But I advise you to get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow’s a big day."
“Is it?” I ask, trying to appear nonchalant despite the anxiety churning in my stomach.
"The royal convoy will arrive tomorrow morning. King Thaddeus and Queen Helena themselves honor us with their presence." Hector is incredibly satisfied by these news, I can tell it through the bond. And it does nothing to assuage my uneasiness.
The royals arrive tomorrow.
And somehow, I know everything is about to change.