Chapter 115 I'm Not Your Play Toy
Fernando found Alberto in the east wing solar, standing by the window with his back turned. Moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t turn when Fernando entered.
“Alberto,” Fernando said softly. “When did you wake up?”
Alberto didn’t look at him. “Hours ago. Or was that not part of your schedule?”
Fernando frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Alberto finally turned. His eyes were calm but distant. Cold. “Did you even want me to wake up? Or were you too busy planning Samael’s execution to notice I was gone?”
Fernando stepped forward, stunned. “That’s not fair. You know I’ve been—”
“Emotional?” Alberto cut in, voice sharp. “Blinded by grief? Letting your rage decide who lives and who dies?”
Fernando’s jaw tightened. “It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Alberto crossed his arms. “You tortured him. You believed every forged letter without question. And now you’re going to kill him all because someone handed you a stack of papers and told you to burn your brother?”
“He betrayed us!” Fernando snapped. “He killed Liana!”
“Did he?” Alberto shot back. “Or did someone make it look that way? You didn’t investigate. You didn’t ask Mira to verify the ink. You didn’t check the cipher seals. You just… broke.”
Fernando’s hands curled into fists. “You don’t understand what’s at stake.”
“I understand perfectly,” Alberto said quietly. “Samael would never hurt me. Never. And if you can’t see that if you let your emotions cloud your judgment like this then you’re not fit to be Alpha.”
The words hit like a slap.
Fernando’s control snapped.
“Oh, is that right?” he sneered, voice dropping low and cruel. “The slave auction boy thinks he knows how to lead a pack? The wolf who hid behind a mask for weeks suddenly has the wisdom to lecture me?”
Alberto went very still.
Then, without warning, he stepped forward and slapped Fernando.
Once.
Twice.
The sound cracked through the room like thunder.
Fernando staggered back, hand flying to his stinging cheek, eyes wide with shock.
Alberto stood tall, chest heaving, eyes blazing with colors that shimmered like fractured glass.
“I’m not that stupid, weak Alberto anymore,” he said, voice low but steady. “And I don’t give a damn if you’re the Alpha. You don’t get to talk down to me. You don’t get my respect just because you wear a crown. You earn it.”
He took a step closer. “And right now? You’ve lost it.”
Fernando opened his mouth to apologize, to argue, to beg but Alberto turned away.
“Leave,” he said.
Fernando didn’t move. He just stood there, stunned, bleeding from pride more than skin.
So Alberto left instead.
He walked out of the solar without another word, boots echoing down the corridor toward the training yard.
\---
Outside, the night air was crisp. Torches flickered along the perimeter as warriors sparred in pairs, their shouts and clashing staves filling the space.
Kael and Lucia spotted him first.
“Alberto!” Kael called, jogging over. “You’re awake! Are you fit to train?”
Alberto nodded. “I need to move. My body’s stiff.”
Lucia grinned. “Good. We could use your speed in the drills.”
They fell into step beside him as he headed toward the weapon racks.
But before he could reach them, a guard stepped into his path.
“Sir,” the beta said, bowing slightly. “Orders from Beta Darius. You’re to train in a private, secluded area. For your safety.”
Alberto stopped. “Why?”
Before the guard could answer, Darius appeared at the edge of the yard, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“Because you’re the future Luna of this pack,” Darius said, voice carrying across the silence that had fallen over the sparring warriors. “You shouldn’t be seen everywhere like this. It undermines your position.”
Alberto turned slowly to face him. A small, tight smile played on his lips. “I’m comfortable training with others. And I don’t want unnecessary, forced respect.”
Darius stepped closer, lowering his voice so only Alberto could hear. “Get a grip. Behave like royalty. You’re not a servant anymore.”
The words coiled around Alberto like chains.
He straightened, eyes flashing with those impossible colors gold, violet, emerald shifting like storm clouds.
“I will not train in a private room,” he said, voice clear enough for everyone to hear. “And I remain Alberto to everyone here until a crown sits on my head. Not before.”
Darius’s jaw tightened. “You’re making this difficult.”
“No,” Alberto said, stepping past him. “You are.”
He walked to the center of the yard, picked up a practice sword, and turned to Kael.
“Sparring partner?”
Kael grinned. “Always.”
As they squared off, the other warriors slowly returned to their drills but their eyes kept flicking to Alberto, to Darius, to the unspoken war unfolding in the open.
Darius stood at the edge of the ring, watching.
And for the first time, doubt flickered in his gaze.
Because Alberto wasn’t playing the role of Luna.
He was rewriting it.
Alberto and Kael circled each other in the center of the training yard, sweat glistening on their brows, breaths sharp but steady. The clash of wooden staves echoed through the night air fast, precise, relentless.
Kael blocked a strike, twisted, and countered but Alberto sidestepped with unnatural grace, his movements fluid, almost liquid. He spun and landed a clean hit to Kael’s ribs.
“Again,” Alberto said, voice calm.
Kael groaned, rubbing his side. “You’re not even winded.”
“I’ve been unconscious for days,” Alberto replied, smirking. “My body’s just catching up.”
Kael dropped his staff, hands on his knees, panting. “Alright, alright. Is it because you finally connected to your wolf? That’s what’s making you this strong?”
Before Alberto could answer, Lucia stepped forward, arms crossed, a knowing smile on her lips.
“He’s not just connected,” she said. “He’s an Enigma. His wolf isn’t like ours. It’s older. Wilder. And honestly?” She glanced at Kael, eyes glinting. “It’s superior to even an Alpha’s.”
Kael whistled low. “No wonder Fernando looks like he’s about to combust every time Alberto walks into a room.”
They laughed briefly, easily the kind of camaraderie forged in blood and trust.
But the moment shattered when a shadow fell across the ring.
Fernando stood at the edge of the yard, cloak drawn tight, expression unreadable. His eyes were fixed on Alberto.
“Come with me,” he said, voice low but firm.
Alberto didn’t move immediately. He rolled his eyes, jaw tightening. Part of him wanted to refuse to make Fernando beg, to force him to acknowledge the mess he’d made.
But then he thought of the court. Of the whispers. Of the fragile peace hanging by a thread.
“Save his face”, he told himself. Just this once.
He handed his staff to Lucia and walked toward Fernando, head slightly bowed, posture obedient, eyes downcast playing the part of the humble victor.
Fernando turned without a word and led him back to the east wing.
Inside the private chamber, the door had barely clicked shut before Fernando spun Alberto around and slammed him against the wall.
Before Alberto could react, Fernando’s mouth crashed onto his hot, desperate, punishing body.
Alberto gasped, hands flying up to push him away. “What are you doing?”
Fernando didn’t answer. He pinned Alberto’s wrists above his head with one hand, his grip unyielding. With the other, he gripped Alberto’s hip hard enough to bruise.
Then he released his pheromones.
Not subtly. Not gently.
A wave of raw, primal Alpha scent flooded the room musky, commanding, laced with need. It coiled around Alberto like smoke, sinking into his skin, curling low in his belly.
Alberto shuddered.
His breath hitched. His knees weakened.
“No,” he whispered, even as his body betrayed him, heat pooling where Fernando’s thigh pressed between his legs.
Fernando kissed him harder, teeth scraping his lower lip, tongue demanding entry. His pheromones intensified thick, intoxicating, designed to overwhelm, to dominate, to claim.
“You don’t get to walk away from me,” Fernando growled against his mouth, voice rough with desperation. “Not after everything.”
Alberto struggled weakly, but his resistance was crumbling. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, drawn to Fernando’s power like flame to tinder.
“I’m not yours to take,” Alberto managed, voice trembling.
“You already are,” Fernando murmured, nipping at his jaw, his neck, his collarbone. “You always have been.”
He ground against him, and Alberto let out a choked moan, hating himself for it.
This wasn’t reconciliation. This was possession.
And worst of all part of him wanted it.
But another part remembered Samael’s broken fingers. Remembered Liana’s name on forged papers. He remembered Fernando’s hands around his throat.
He twisted his wrist sharply, using a trick Mira had taught him, a pressure point release and broke free.
He shoved Fernando back, chest heaving, eyes blazing with those shifting colors.
“Don’t,” Alberto said, voice shaking but firm. “Don’t use your power on me like I’m some obedient pup who’ll roll over because you scent-marked the air.”
Fernando stared at him, breathing hard, desire warring with guilt in his eyes.
“I needed you to stay,” he said quietly. “Even if it was just for a moment.”
Alberto stepped back, putting distance between them. “You don’t get to break me and then kiss me back together like it never happened.”
Fernando opened his mouth to apologize, to explain but Alberto turned away.
“I’m still me,” he said without looking back. “Not your Luna. Not your weapon. Just Alberto.”
And with that, he walked out, leaving Fernando alone in the dark, drowning in the scent of a bond he might have already ruined.