Defying the Rogue Alpha
Chapter 155: Shatter

Chapter 155: Shatter

Lucas said nothing. His jaw clenched so tightly Dennis worried his teeth might shatter. His fists were balled at his sides and his entire frame trembled with rage.

Dennis understood. Gods, he understood. Watching Ava walk hand in hand with the king—smiling, radiant, glowing, it was like getting punched in the throat by fate.

But it was bad timing. Only a handful of their men were in the city. And even if, by some miracle, they managed to grab Ava, what then? They had no idea where Zoe was. They didn’t know how tight Herod’s inner security really was. It would be a bloodbath.

So Dennis held him.

When the king’s entourage finally disappeared down the street, swallowed by the twist of stone alleys and iron gates, Dennis slowly let go.

Lucas turned to him—and Dennis stilled. Tears were spilling from his brother’s eyes, slow and silent and honest.

The mighty Alpha Lucas Raventhorn. Broken-hearted in broad daylight.

Dennis smiled sadly because he knew exactly what his brother was feeling. That hole in the chest, that burn in the throat. That absolute helplessness.

He’d cried too. In private. Under a moonless sky when no one could see.

But he had to be the one who didn’t break.

He had to be the voice of reason. The wall that kept the tide back.

He clapped a hand on Lucas’s shoulder and whispered, "We’ll get her back. Just not today."

******

Alaric, as was his ritual, stepped into the king’s private chambers without announcing himself.

Everything was set. The preparations for the mating ceremony were complete—except for one tiny, catastrophic detail. He braced himself. This was going to be one of those conversations.

"Your Highness," Alaric greeted, giving the customary half-bow with a touch of flair.

"Alaric!" Herod beamed, his grin wide and his cheeks dangerously close to dimpling. Dimples. On Herod. The merciless.

Alaric blinked. "Your Highness... you seem... happy."

"Am I?" Herod rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, as if trying to scrub off the unfamiliar emotion clinging to his face. "Hmmm... I guess I am. I feel... happy. Isn’t that odd?"

Alaric narrowed his eyes, suspicious. "Are you alright, my lord?"

Herod chuckled. "I suppose I just feel... hopeful."

Alaric, still skeptical but not entirely immune to the warmth in the king’s tone, gave a respectful bow. "Well then, I am glad you have some happiness in your life, Your Majesty. It suits you."

The king clapped a hand to his shoulder. "What can I do for you, Alaric? Ask for the world and I will give it to you!"

Alaric laughed despite himself. "I wouldn’t aim quite so high, My Lord. I bring both good and bad news."

Herod groaned, flopping into his armchair. "Alaric, must you always ruin my mood like this? Let me bask in my newfound joy for ten minutes at least."

"I’m afraid I must be the cloud over your sunny day," Alaric said with mock sorrow. "It’s in my job description."

Herod waved a hand. "Fine, fine."

"Well," Alaric began, "everything is in place for the mating ceremony. But," Alaric continued, "we have one—rather furious—wrinkle. The queen."

Herod’s smile faltered just enough to remind himself that, he was still a king with problems. "Of course," he muttered darkly.

"She’s... let’s say... not on board with the idea of a rival," Alaric said delicately. "Even after I explained the stakes, the prophecy, the necessity, the divine nature of it all—she wasn’t impressed."

Herod sighed deeply. "I will handle the queen myself, Alaric. I’ve had... plenty of practice in managing her expectations."

"I only hope," Alaric said more cautiously now, "that she doesn’t do anything rash to jeopardize the safety of the goddess."

Herod stilled. His brow furrowed. "Is that what you call her?"

Alaric nodded once. "Yes."

"Goddess. I like it."

"I see you are quite smitten with her, sire. Her powers tend to have that effect on powerful men."

The words were spoken lightly, but the undercurrent was loaded with meaning.

"So you’re saying I’m enchanted now?" he scoffed, but it lacked bite. "She’s an amazing woman, Alaric. She’s selfless. Level-headed but witty. And gods help me, she makes me laugh. Laugh, Alaric. Me!"

"Perhaps," Alaric said carefully, "you would consider her as your queen instead? You deserve happiness, my lord."

Herod allowed the idea to take shape in his mind—Ava as queen, beside him not just for power, but for real. Her laughter filling these cold halls, her warmth melting the chill in his soul. But then the fantasy curdled. Between them lay a moat of lies, secrets, withheld truths. Their entire relationship was a performance built on strategy and desperation. He couldn’t afford feelings—not now.

"Anything else?" he said briskly, brushing the idea aside.

Alaric dipped his head. "Zoe, Your Highness."

Herod’s face turned to granite. "Yes. She’s sentenced to death. Her blood will be offered to the Moon Goddess on the night of the mating ceremony."

Alaric only nodded. "Very wise, sire."

*****

Herod outdid himself.

The palace terrace had been transformed. There were silken curtains that swayed gently in the breeze. The dinner table groaned under the weight of roasted meats, exotic fruits, and at least three types of soup.

Herod, standing at the far end, heard the soft sweep of her dress. He turned—and forgot how to breathe.

Ava appeared in a flowing purple gown. Her hair was curled, loose, cascading over her shoulders. Her cheeks flushed slightly when their eyes met, and in that moment, Herod finally admitted to himself that the Moon Goddess was not just among them.

She was walking toward him.

He stood. Stood—as in, voluntarily. It was absurd and mildly humiliating, but he didn’t care. His heart thudded stupidly against his ribs.

"Good evening," Ava said.

"You’re... radiant," he said.

She raised a brow, amused. "Trying to charm me now?"

"Is it working?" he asked.

"Maybe." She smirked.

"Your Highness. It seems you’ve made it your personal mission to feed me until I explode," Ava said, eyeing the mountain of food in front of her. She turned her amused gaze toward Herod, who was watching her.

"No exploding, please," Herod replied with a faint smile, standing awkwardly behind the chair. "Please, sit."

The hovering servants exchanged scandalized glances. Herod pulling out chairs? Herod asking someone to sit without barking it as a command?

Ava leaned back and surveyed the scene again. "Are we celebrating something?" she asked, picking up a fork.

@Kie, @Kashvi: I love you.

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