Defying the Rogue Alpha
Chapter 154: Walk

Chapter 154: Walk

He smiled. "Just walk with me," he said, and gestured toward the open gate where nearly a dozen guards awaited them. Overkill much?

As they stepped out of the palace, Ava instinctively placed a protective hand on her stomach. It had become second nature. She wasn’t even showing yet, but that didn’t stop the mother-bear instincts from kicking in every time someone coughed within ten feet of her.

Outside, the sun was brighter. The kingdom stretched before her.

Ava’s brows furrowed. Nothing about this land felt like home. It wasn’t just unfamiliar, it felt wrong!

Her gaze drifted to the horizon, searching for something she could name. And suddenly, like sunlight cracking through fog, memories trickled in. Not of this place, but of another. Somewhere with towering stone walls and green hills. Somewhere loud. A fortress housing a castle. A home.

She remembered the feeling of belonging there. She remembered being one of them. She did remember leaving the Crimson Pack for the Silver Pack. But that part of the memory was hazy. She remembered why she left but couldn’t remember how or with who. That blankness made her nervous.

Herod’s voice broke through her thoughts. "This used to be a jewel. I want it to be again."

Ava turned to him, studying his profile. He looked determined.

How did she get to the North? That question looped through Ava’s mind. One minute she was... somewhere—warm? Familiar? And the next, she was here. No one had answers. At least, none they wanted to share. And Herod—dear, mysterious, Herod—was the king of unshared information.

Not that she blamed him. Well, not entirely. He looked like a man who hadn’t slept properly since the dawn of civilization. His sharp jawline was tensed and his eyes carried enough sadness to sink a battleship.

"Centuries ago," Herod began, "my ancestor united these lands under one king... with the help of a great woman."

Ava’s brow arched. Of course there was a woman behind the scenes doing the heavy lifting while the man got the credit. Classic.

"With their love came a power so magnificent," he continued, "the lands flourished. United, peaceful, wealthy. They had an extraordinary child who carried on their legacy. But over time... the power in their descendants dwindled."

Herod sighed.

"The people began to rebel. They questioned the crown’s authority, its strength, its ability to rule. I ascended the throne during such a time, when loyalty was thin, and hope even thinner."

Ava let the silence linger for a beat, then gently added, "Being a leader is a great responsibility."

He glanced at her, almost surprised by her understanding.

Herod nodded, as if her words struck a hidden chord. "We can achieve what my forefathers achieved. Maybe even more. We’ve started already. But someone else... someone else wanted your powers for himself."

That got Ava’s attention. Her hand instinctively went to her stomach, where her baby rested quietly. "I know I’m the daughter of the moon," she said slowly, "but how I found that out is foggy. I remember being strong, connected to something ancient... and then nothing. Just shadows."

"Yes," Herod said. "You’ll get it back. I promise. But for now, you must be careful. Everything is not as it seems."

He paused dramatically, "I would give you all the answers, but..." He turned his face away, perfectly lit by the golden afternoon sun. "It hurts too much... to think about."

"I know. It’s okay." Ava reached out, her fingers trembling just slightly, and touched Herod’s cheek with the kind of gentleness that made his breath catch. Her touch was soft. Unburdened by expectation. In that moment, Herod leaned in, just slightly. His eyes closed for the briefest second, and if hearts had voices, his would have sighed.

"What can I do?" she asked softly, searching his face. "If we are to bring a child into this world, we have to prepare. We have to do something."

Herod’s lips curved into a faint smile. Ava stood there—hopeful, determined. She didn’t whine. She didn’t cower. She offered partnership. Under better circumstances, Herod thought, he might’ve fallen in love with her. He might already be halfway there. But life was cruel, and kings didn’t always get to love.

They resumed their walk through the heart of the town.

Word had spread. The King was walking openly through the town. With the mystery bride.

Every shopkeeper found a reason to peek outside.

But it wasn’t admiration they saw in those faces. Ava noticed quickly: it was fear. Resentment. People didn’t smile—they glared. Lips pursed. Brows tightened. Some even turned away.

And then she saw it—a face.

One face in a blur of many. His face.

Her breath caught mid-inhale. She blinked, certain her memory was betraying her again. But it wasn’t. There he was.

Lucas Raventhorn.

Alpha Lucas Raventhorn.

His name dropped into her mind, sending ripples through every half-formed thought. She felt heat bloom in her chest and her hand instinctively went to her stomach.

She turned, about to speak, to tell Herod. But something inside her halted her voice mid-rise in her throat. Wrong move, her instincts whispered.

Herod, perceptive as ever when it came to reading people narrowed his eyes. "Everything okay?" he asked.

Ava blinked, shaking herself. "Yeah," she said, forcing a smile

Herod gave a single nod, clearly not buying it but choosing not to press.

She turned again, eyes combing the crowd. But it was gone. He was gone. The flash of familiar eyes, the way his mouth tugged into a lopsided frown she swore she had seen in dreams—that had all disappeared into the sea of strangers and shifting expressions.

But she had seen him. She was certain of it. Lucas Raventhorn.

The name pulsed through her, familiar and comforting.

And contrary to everything she’d been told—every whispered warning, she didn’t feel fear.

She felt... happy.

Ridiculously, inappropriately, inconveniently happy. The kind of giddy joy that bubbled just beneath the surface of her skin. What was wrong with her?

Her fingers moved up to her neck, hovering. She didn’t even know what she was looking for. A mark? A scar? A chain? A memory? Something. Anything. But there was nothing—just smooth skin and a tightening throat.

What was happening to her?

Was she cheating on the king?

The idea came with a wave of guilt strong enough to slap her in the face. Herod, who held her hand with such reverence. Herod, who rubbed her belly promising a better future.

And yet, when she thought of Lucas, the ache in her chest wasn’t one of betrayal—it was longing.

So many questions spun in her head. And she couldn’t ask any of them.

*****

Dennis yanked Lucas backward. Lucas had been too close to the edge, teetering between logic and instinct, and instinct was winning. His eyes had locked on Ava and all reason had apparently packed its bags and moved to another continent.

"Are you crazy?" Dennis hissed, gripping his older brother by the shoulders, trying to block him from view with his own body. "Do you want to die? Because if you breathe too hard right now, the king’s guards will notice."

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