Chapter 32 CHAPTER 032
Third-Person POV:
"Help!" A blood-curdling scream seared through the normal looking market, catching the attention of sellers and buyers.
The voice was tiny, but it reached everyone. Market stalls creaked in their oldest twinge as people's bodies turned. Many fabrics rustled as their hands stilled mid-bargain, and the strong scent of blood filled the air, before anyone even saw the source. It was a girl, no older than ten. She knelt in the dirt, while her small fingers pressed against the gushing wound in her father’s throat. His eyes were already glassy, his mouth worked soundlessly as his life pulsed between her desperate grip.
"Help!" she shrieked again, her voice cracking like dry kindling. But the crowd only watched, frozen, as the man’s body jerked once before going still.
Someone in the front row retched. Another woman clutched her pearls, murmuring prayers to the moon goddess. Then, from the back, a boot crunched on gravel.
"Third one this month," a man growled, shoving his way forward. His hands were calloused from the forge, and his forearms streaked with soot.
He went down on his knees to check for a pulse. His face said enough. But instead of announcing the obvious, he yanked the girl upright by her collar, ignoring her wail as her father’s blood smeared across her dress.
"You see this?" He shook her at the crowd like a ragdoll. "This is what happens when we keep quiet!"
The murmur that followed wasn’t in agreement, but it wasn’t denial either. A woman near the spice stall tightened her shawl around her shoulders. "The Alpha said..."
"The Alpha’s rotting in his palace while our children bleed out in the streets!" The blacksmith spat, his grip tightening on the girl’s arm. She whimpered, but no one stepped in. Not even when he dragged her forward, her bare feet scraping against the cobblestones. "We march to the palace now. We let him know that Shadowfang is in trouble. And if he doesn't do anything about it, we bring death to his doorstep."
And like kindling catching flame, the crowd moved as one. The market stalls were abandoned, and the baskets were dropped. The girl stumbled along, her tears cutting tracks through the blood on her cheeks, but no one looked at her. Their eyes were fixed ahead, on the palace gates.
Meanwhile, deep in the palace, Ryle lounged on his throne, while Dina draped over his lap like a prize pelt.
"Alpha?" She called in her smallest voice.
"Yes, my sweetheart."
"When will I be coronated to be your Luna? It has been months, and you still haven't said anything about it."
He remembered everything. He did. When he found out about her sacrifice, when he got to know she had no wolf, and when he heard the prophecy.
He had been in his study room, way before he dreamt of being the Alpha, when a knock sounded on the door.
"Your highness?"
Riel looked up, surprise coloring his face. "You're here? I thought we were supposed to show up in your office to book a session. Did I get an exclusive visit?"
He had grabbed a chair and sat before Riel gave permission. "I saw something." The seer began. The man’s eyes were clouded like frosted glass, and they seemed to stare straight through Ryle’s skull. "One of the Shimmer daughters carries the mark of the Shadower. The bloodline that felled the first Lycan kings."
The seer’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if the walls themselves might betray them. "A war is coming. And when the Lycan king rises, you will need her. Not as a mate. As a weapon."
Ryle had dismissed the seer with a flick of his wrist, but the words clung to his soul. Years later, standing over Ari’s trembling form as she failed to shift under the full moon, he remembered the prophecy with a sickening twist. Her sacrifice had saved his life, but a Luna without a wolf? She could never be the Shadower. It was unthinkable. He’d turned to Dina instead, her golden wolf shimmering under the moonlight like untapped treasure.
The choice was necessary. And yet, when Dina slipped into his chambers that first night, hesitation had lined her voice. "This is wrong," she’d breathed, her fingers tangled in the hem of her dress.
Ryle caught her wrist, pulling her close until her scent filled his lungs. "We were always meant for this," he murmured against her throat. "Fate just needed a… correction."
Now, with Dina purring in his lap, her nails tracing idle patterns on his chest, Ryle barely registered her question. He had known shortly after Ari had been banished that she was the Shadower he had been looking for.
Dina pouted, her lower lip jutting. "You’re not listening to me."
Ryle’s fingers twitched against her thigh. "Of course I am, my sweetheart." He forced a smile, but his gaze slid to the window where a crowd was slowly forming and approaching the palace.
The murmur outside grew louder, with anger and fear lapping at the palace gates. Ryle disentangled himself from Dina with a sigh, straightening his coat as he strode toward the balcony. The moment he stepped into view, a hush fell over the crowd.
"Shadowfang," Ryle called. "These rogue attacks will be dealt with. I assure you, security will be tightened. Patrols will be doubled." His words were smooth.
The blacksmith, still gripping the bloodstained girl, opened his mouth, but Ryle’s glare silenced him before a sound could escape. "Go home," he said, softer now, almost gentle. "Trust your Alpha."
The crowd dispersed, grumbling, their shoulders hunched like scolded pups. Behind him, Dina’s perfume squeezed into the space between them before she spoke. "You need to make me Luna," she murmured, her fingers tracing his spine. "The pack is crumbling. They need stability. They need a Luna."
Ryle didn’t turn. His jaw clenched, his eyes fixed on the retreating crowd, and on the little girl stumbling after them, her father’s blood still drying in the dirt.
"Well, it’s definitely not you," he said at last, so quiet the wind nearly stole the words.
Dina recoiled as if struck. "What—?"
But Ryle had walked away.