Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha
Chapter 80

Chapter 80: Chapter 80

Betrayed by Blood

Queen Ingrid stood before the mirror, slipping on her nightgown for the night. The soft rustle of silk sheets stirred behind her. She could feel the presence of the man before he even spoke. The bed creaked as he got up from it, and soon, she felt his warm breath against the nape of her neck.

He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer. His lips brushed against her bare shoulder, lingering, as he murmured, "Come back to bed. I’ve missed you. Two weeks without a word is cruel."

Ingrid smiled, but it was a smile that held no warmth. She turned, meeting his gaze, and her smile faded. She looked at him, her eyes cold and emotionless. He was tall, tanned, and handsome in a way that made even the most beautiful women envy him; he was everything Alaric wasn’t. But despite the beauty he exuded, Ingrid was unmoved.

Ingrid pressed a finger against his chest, forcing him to step back. "Know your place, Salem," she said, her voice soft but laced with warning. "I’d hate to have to remind you of it."

His jaw tightened, but he bowed his head, concealing the flicker of fear in his eyes. "Of course, Your Majesty."

She didn’t miss the slight quiver in his voice. "Good." Ingrid turned back to the mirror, her fingers brushing through her hair, carefully adjusting a stray strand. She paused for a moment before speaking again, her tone curt. "Now, where are we with the search?"

Salem stood straighter, his posture shifting into something more guarded. His smile faded, and he clasped his hands behind his back, the nervousness in his eyes betraying his calm demeanor. "We’re still searching," he admitted, his voice tight with frustration. "It’s difficult, Your Majesty. There’s no name, no face. We’re only working with the vague information the seer gave us, and it’s not much to go on."

Ingrid’s eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. She turned to face him fully, stepping closer. "I don’t want excuses," she said, her voice low. "I want results. Or do you need reminding why I chose you for this task?"

"No, Your Majesty," Salem replied quickly, lowering his gaze, but a flicker of doubt lingered in his eyes. He hesitated before speaking again, unable to resist the question that had been gnawing at him ever since. "Your Majesty, forgive my ignorance and insolence, but why are you so intent on this? We’ve been searching for two years and we’ve come up with nothing so far. The King’s offspring, what threat could they pose to you? The child doesn’t even know who they are."

Ingrid’s lips curled into a tight smile, one that was anything but kind. "That’s precisely the point," she said coldly. "The King’s bloodline is a threat, no matter how small, ignorant, or insignificant they may seem. Do you think I’ll allow his spawn to grow and challenge me? To bring him joy or a future he doesn’t deserve?"

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering with doubt. "And if they’re innocent? Someone who poses no danger?"

Her smile vanished, and her voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Since when did you start asking me so many questions? It must be because I allow you to fuck me, right?" Ingrid grinned, something about it had the man trembling.

Salem froze, the words hanging in the air between them like an invisible threat, and a cold sweat broke out across his forehead. His throat tightened, and he shook his head quickly, desperately.

"Forgive my insolence, Your Majesty," he rushed out.

Ingrid hummed dismissively, "Get dressed, Salem, and leave. I want results next time," she said calmly.

Salem hastily nodded, his face pale. He scrambled to put on his clothes, bowing low once more before leaving the room. Ingrid didn’t watch him leave; her eyes remained fixed on her reflection.

When the door clicked shut, she took a deep breath and allowed herself a moment. Her neck was littered with the marks he’d left, red and raw against her skin. She had made sure to tell him to leave as many marks as possible, knowing Alaric would never see them. Not because she covered them up, but because he never touched her. Not anymore.

She took out her cleanser and slowly began to clean her face, Salem’s words echoing in her head again. ’Why are you so intent on this? We’ve been searching for two years and we’ve come up with nothing so far. The King’s offspring, what threat could they pose to you?’ She didn’t have to answer him. The truth was simple enough.

The King’s bloodline was a threat. Even if it wasn’t, it was a threat simply because it was his. The mere thought of Alaric having a child, someone carrying his blood, his legacy—sickened Ingrid. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve anyone who could carry on his filthy name. He should be remembered as the king who never was. The one without a legacy.

How could the goddess give someone like Alaric a child when he forcefully took the life of another child? Ingrid still remembered it like it was yesterday. The screams of the woman still haunt her. Alaric had slaughtered the boy like an animal, that too in front of his mother. She still remembered the sick grin he wore when he finally murdered the woman. Why? They were low-born.

Every night after then that Alaric would seek her and fuck her, she made sure to use preventative medicine. She swore on her life to never bear the king a child... it was the one thing Alaric wanted in life. He was desperate for a child. He fucked all the available unmated maidens in the pack, desperate for one to conceive, but they couldn’t, not after Ingrid forced the drink down their throats even before he laid with them. They could never take in, not for him anyways. But it all went to shit that very day. The day the seer saw her. ’His bloodline streams outside the pack.’ Ingrid swore on her life to get rid of any of Alaric’s bloodline.