Chapter 11 Don't Let Them See - Amelia’s POV
At precisely 10:00, three sharp knocks sounded at the door. Marcus set down his coffee and stood, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from his jacket.
"Remember what I told you," he said, his first words to me that morning. "Speak only when spoken to. Keep your eyes down. Don't embarrass the pack."
'Which pack?' Kaela snapped. 'The one that beat and starved you for years?'
I nodded silently, not trusting my voice. Marcus moved to the door and opened it, revealing a servant in a formal black uniform with the royal insignia embroidered in purple over the heart.
"Alpha Blackwater, Miss Lovelace," the servant said with a slight bow. "His Majesty will see you now. Please follow me."
The walk through the castle was a blur of opulence—corridors lined with artwork, ceilings that soared overhead, floors of polished stone that clicked beneath our shoes. Guards stood at attention at regular intervals, their eyes forward but missing nothing. Other servants stepped aside as we passed, bowing their heads respectfully. I felt like an impostor in my fine dress, certain everyone could see right through me to the basement servant beneath.
'Hold your head up,' Kaela urged. 'Don't let them see you're scared.'
I tried, straightening my spine despite the pain it caused my injured back. The servant led us deeper into the castle, down corridors that grew increasingly grand, until we reached a massive double door made of dark wood inlaid with silver and flanked by four guards in formal uniform.
"His Majesty's office," our guide announced, stepping forward to knock on the door.
A deep voice from within called, "Enter."
The servant opened the door and stepped aside, bowing as we passed. Marcus strode in confidently, while I followed more hesitantly, my eyes fixed on the floor as instructed.
The Alpha King's office was cavernous—easily four times the size of Alpha Marcus's at the Frozen Mountain. Bookshelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, interrupted only by tall windows that flooded the space with morning light. A massive desk dominated the far end, carved from a single piece of dark wood and positioned before windows that overlooked what appeared to be private gardens.
And behind that desk stood the Alpha King himself.
Even with my eyes lowered, I could feel his presence—like standing too close to a fire, the heat and power rolling off him in waves. Kaela went utterly silent in my mind, a stillness born of primal fear rather than comfort.
"Your Majesty," Marcus began, his voice carefully controlled. "Thank you for receiving us. I am Alpha Marcus Blackwater of the Frozen Mountain Pack. We're deeply grateful for your consideration and assistance in these difficult times."
I kept my gaze fixed on the floor, heart hammering so loudly I was certain everyone could hear it. Marcus's hand suddenly closed around my upper arm, fingers digging painfully as he yanked me forward.
"This is Amelia Lovelace," he said, pushing me in front of him. "As promised. She reaches full mating age in thirteen days."
The silence that followed felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. I could feel the Alpha King's gaze on me, assessing, judging. My lungs refused to work properly, each breath shallow and insufficient.
"Look at me," came that deep voice again—not loud, but filled with such authority that my head snapped up before I could think.
And then I was staring into the face of the most dangerous werewolf alive.
Aleksandr Brecc was nothing like I'd imagined. I'd expected someone older, battle-scarred, visibly cruel. Instead, I found myself looking at a man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties, with sharp features that bordered on beautiful in their severity. His black hair was short on the sides, longer on top, and his jaw was shadowed with stubble that didn't quite hide a long scar that ran along the left side. But it was his eyes that held me frozen, deep, dark pools that suddenly flared with brilliant purple light as his wolf looked out at me.
'Don't move,' Kaela whispered, finally finding her voice. 'Don't even breathe.'
The Alpha King tilted his head slightly, those purple eyes dragging over me from head to toe, lingering on my face, my neck where the bruises lay hidden under makeup, my too-thin wrists. His expression revealed nothing, but something shifted in those eyes—a flicker of something I couldn't interpret.
After what felt like eternity, he nodded once. "Acceptable," he said simply.
The tension in Marcus's body eased slightly, but he maintained his grip on my arm.
The Alpha King's gaze moved to a servant standing unobtrusively by the wall. "Bring food," he ordered. "Meat, cheese, bread. The girl looks like she's been starved."
"Right away, Your Majesty," the servant replied, slipping from the room.
Aleksandr gestured to a chair beside his desk. "Sit," he commanded, his eyes back on me.
I moved to the indicated chair on trembling legs, perching on the edge like I might need to flee at any moment. He returned to his own seat, a massive leather chair that creaked softly under his weight. Up close, I could see the intricate tattoos that peeked from the edges of his crisp white shirt—dark lines that disappeared beneath the fabric, telling stories I couldn't read.
He reached for a crystal decanter and poured deep red wine into two glasses, sliding one toward me without a word. The other he kept before him, though he didn't drink.
"Now," he said, turning those purple eyes on Marcus, who still stood in the center of the room. "State your case, Blackwater. What exactly is happening with these rogues?"
Marcus stepped forward, clearly intending to take the other chair near the desk, but Aleksandr stopped him with a slight raise of his hand.
"I didn't invite you to sit," he said, his voice soft but edged with steel.
Marcus froze, then stepped back. "Of course, Your Majesty."
The door opened as the servant returned, carrying a tray laden with food—thinly sliced meats arranged in a fan, several kinds of cheese, a bunch of plump grapes, and a loaf of bread still warm enough to steam slightly. He set it on the desk in front of me and withdrew silently.
My eyes widened at the spread. It was more food than I'd seen in one place for my personal consumption in years. My stomach clenched painfully, reminding me that I hadn't eaten since the night before.
The Alpha King glanced at me, then back at Marcus, who had begun detailing the rogue attacks. Without looking away from the Alpha's face, he gestured toward the tray.
"Eat," he said to me, the command gentle but unmistakable. "There's more if you want it after this."
I reached for a piece of bread, feeling like I was in a dream. Beside me sat the Alpha King, feared throughout the werewolf world. Across from me stood the man who had abused and neglected me for years. And here I was, caught between them, a piece on a chessboard I didn't understand.
But the bread was real, warm and soft in my hands. And for now, at least, I was still alive.