Chapter 173

Chapter 173
Third POV

He turned his attention back to Thorne, and the intensity of that gaze made the professor's skin crawl. "You've done well, Professor. Very well indeed. This information is... valuable."

"I only wanted Your Highness to know the truth," Thorne said carefully, trying to gauge the prince's mood. "To prevent her from continuing to deceive everyone. She's made a mockery of the sacred bond of arranged marriage, of duty and honor—"

"Don't pretend you care about honor," Tyrant interrupted, though there was dark amusement in his tone now. "You're here because she destroyed your career and you want revenge. There's no shame in that. Revenge is honest, at least."

He moved to a cabinet and withdrew an ornate wooden box, which he opened to reveal neat stacks of currency. "Your initial payment was generous, I believe. This is double that amount. Consider it a bonus for the quality and completeness of your intelligence."

Thorne's eyes widened as Tyrant pushed the box across the desk. It was more money than he'd seen in months, enough to relocate, to start over somewhere far from Zenith and the ruins of his former life.

"Thank you, Your Highness," he breathed, reaching for the box with trembling hands. "I'm grateful for your generosity."

"There's one more thing," Tyrant said, his tone becoming businesslike. "I'll need you to remain available for the next few days. There may be additional questions, clarifications needed. You'll be compensated for your time, of course."

Something in the prince's expression made Thorne hesitate, a flicker of unease cutting through his greed and vindictive satisfaction. "Available for what, exactly?"

Tyrant smiled, and it was one of the most chilling expressions Thorne had ever seen. "Why, for the retrieval operation, of course. You don't think I'm simply going to let her continue this charade, do you? Rhea is my betrothed. She belongs at my side, in my bed, bearing my heirs. This little rebellion of hers has gone on quite long enough."

"You're going to... take her?" Thorne's voice came out as barely a whisper. "From Zenith?"

"I'm going to reclaim what is rightfully mine," Tyrant corrected coldly. "The marriage contract is legally binding, signed by her father and witnessed by the Council. She has no right to refuse, no right to run, and certainly no right to whore herself out to random Alphas while wearing my claim."

He moved closer to Thorne, and the professor found himself backing up until he hit the wall. "You understand, of course, that this conversation never happened. That you saw nothing, heard nothing, know nothing. If anyone asks, you were never here."

"I understand," Thorne managed, his heart pounding. "I won't say anything. I swear it."

"Good." Tyrant stepped back, his expression clearing into something almost pleasant. "Then we have an understanding. Take your payment and go. I'll be in touch if I need you."

Thorne grabbed the box and fled, his wolf howling in terror as he practically ran through the embassy corridors back to the safety of the street. Only when he was several blocks away did he stop, leaning against a building and gasping for breath, his hands shaking so badly he nearly dropped his prize.

What had he done? He'd thought he was simply selling information, getting revenge on the princess who'd destroyed his career. But Tyrant's intentions went far beyond mere exposure or political maneuvering. The prince was planning something violent, something that would put Rhea in immediate danger.

For a moment, Thorne considered going to the authorities, warning someone at Zenith about the threat. But then he looked down at the box of money in his hands, felt the weight of it, imagined the new life it could buy him far from this mess.

She had destroyed him first, he reminded himself. Whatever happened to Princess Rhea Winterbourne now was the consequence of her own choices, her own deceptions. He'd simply provided information. What Tyrant did with that information was not his responsibility.

Thorne clutched the box tighter and disappeared into the afternoon crowd, telling himself he'd done nothing wrong, that this was justice, that the princess deserved whatever fate awaited her.

But that night, alone in his squalid apartment with the money hidden under his mattress, he would dream of violet eyes staring at him in accusation, of a young woman's screams echoing through empty corridors, of blood on his hands that no amount of washing could remove.

And he would wake up shaking, wondering if thirty pieces of silver had ever bought anything but damnation.

---

Back in the embassy office, Crown Prince Tyrant stood before a wall-sized map of the region, red pins marking various locations around Zenith University. His second-in-command, Commander Viktor, stood at attention beside him.

"The professor's information confirms our surveillance reports," Viktor said in his gravelly voice. "The princess maintains a regular schedule—classes, training sessions, dormitory. She's well-guarded but not impossible to access."

"I don't want 'not impossible,'" Tyrant said coldly. "I want a plan that guarantees success. She slipped through my fingers once. I will not tolerate a second failure."

"Understood, Your Highness. We have assets in place near the campus. With the professor's detailed timeline, we can identify optimal windows for extraction."

"Extraction," Tyrant repeated, tasting the word. "Such a clinical term for bringing my runaway bride home." He picked up the photograph of Rhea laughing between her two lovers, his fingers tightening until the paper crumpled. "Make sure your men understand—I want her alive and unharmed. Not a scratch, not a bruise. She needs to be perfect for our wedding night."

"And the two Alphas?" Viktor asked carefully. "Striker and Wilde?"

Tyrant's smile turned vicious. "Oh, I have special plans for them. They've touched what belongs to me, claimed what they had no right to claim. They'll watch as I complete the mating bond with Rhea, as I erase their pathetic marks and replace them with mine. And then..." He trailed off, the implied threat hanging heavy in the air.

"Then they'll understand the price of taking what belongs to the Crown Prince of Ironfang."

He turned back to the map, already calculating trajectories and timelines, assembling the pieces of his plan like a general preparing for war. Spring had come to Zenith, bringing warmth and new beginnings.

But for Princess Rhea Winterbourne, winter was coming.

And this time, there would be no escape.