“I want to sit in on the interrogation,” Colette said, her voice cutting through the heavy silence of her bedchamber.
Henrik’s brow furrowed, his jaw setting hard.
“No.
It happened on my turf, Colette.
It’s pack business, and I handle it.” Colette let out a sharp, breathless laugh.
“When that sniper was aiming at my throat, Alpha Henrik, it stopped being just your pack business.
My blood is on your driveway.
And as the future Luna of SilverFang, I have every right to be in that cell.” Henrik took a sudden, aggressive step toward her, his hand reaching out as if to physically stop her words.
The moment his fingers closed the distance, Colette flinched back on pure instinct.
Henrik froze, his hand hanging in mid-air, looking as startled by his own sudden movement as she was, before he pulled his arm back and clenched his fist.
“I am sorry for what happened on my land,” he growled, forcing his voice into a low, controlled register.
“But my word is final.
I cannot allow you in that dungeon.” “Fine,” Colette fired back, the sharp, unyielding Alpha edge surfacing despite the quiet pounding of her heart.
“Then Elias goes in my place.
He witnesses the questioning, or I go there myself.” Henrik’s grey eyes locked onto hers for a split second, troubled and guarded.
“Agreed.
Your Beta attends.” “And one more thing,” she added, holding her ground.
“The execution at dawn won’t be in some dark corner.
I want it public.
Assemble your pack in the courtyard.
They need to learn that their new Luna is not to be messed with.
And this wedding is happening whether they like it or not.” Henrik nodded curtly.
“Consider it done.
Elias and I leave for the cells now.
Rest for now.” The heavy door clicked shut behind him, and Colette collapsed onto the velvet mattress, letting her eyes fall shut as the fight drained out of her.
Let me just rest my eyes for a moment, she thought as she slipped into a restless slumber.
She saw a faint, candlelit room, images of Colette’s younger self, no older than seven or eight, sitting on the stone-cold floor.
Her small hands trembled, clutching a silver goblet.
Standing above her were shadowy figures whose faces blurred, their voices harsh and relentless as they forced the goblet to her lips.
They made her drink dark, bitter poison to “build her immunity” for the Alpha lineage.
Colette sobbed quietly, tears streaming down her pale cheeks as the liquid burned her throat, her tiny chest heaving with helpless terror.
Colette felt the sharp, suffocating agony of that frightened little girl as if it were happening to her own body in real time, and hot tears slipped past her closed eyelids.
Soft, warm fingers cupping her face jolted Colette back to reality.
She gasped, opening her eyes to see little Laura straddling her, holding Colette’s face gently between her small hands.
“You’re crying,” Laura whispered, her big grey eyes swimming with worry.
“Don’t cry, pretty lady.” Colette pushed herself up against the headboard, her silver hair in disarray.
She wiped her damp cheeks on the sleeves of her cuffs.
Near the doorway stood Laura’s nanny, who immediately offered a quick, respectful bow and quickly averted her eyes to the floor.
Colette’s heart softened completely.
She cradled Laura comfortably in her lap, smoothing back the little girl’s soft hair.
“I’m fine, Laura,” she said softly, her voice still a little thick.
“I just…
dreamt about a unicorn.
It was so beautiful that I couldn’t help but tear up.” Laura gasped slightly, a big, bright smile breaking across her face.
“I love Unicorns!” She said happily, spreading her tiny arms in excitement.
Then her expression turned serious.
“I’ll tell my daddy to get one for you!
We can ride it together and you won’t cry anymore.” A genuine, breathy laugh bubbled up from Colette’s chest, her heart squeezing with pure tenderness.
Her sharp, cold Alpha instincts momentarily yielded to the quiet, gentle warmth she held inside.
She smiled warmly and bopped Laura’s nose with her index finger, making the little girl burst into a bright, gigging fit.
The nanny stepped forward a few steps, keeping her hands folded politely.
“Forgive me, My Lady, but you have been asleep for some time.
It is dinner time in the main hall.
Lady Laura insisted on coming to call you personally when she heard you were still resting inside the packhouse.” “I see,” Colette nodded, feeling the stiffness in her joints.
“Give me a moment to dress, and we’ll walk down together.” A short while later, Colette walked into the grand dining hall alongside Laura, holding the little girl’s small hand.
At the head of the long timber table sat Henrik.
He looked remarkably sharp in a dark tailored shirt, yet the dark smudges beneath his eyes and the heavy tension in his broad shoulders betrayed how utterly exhausted he was from dealing with the aftermath of the morning’s chaos.
As they approached, Henrik stood up, acknowledging her with a quiet tilt of his head.
“Colette.” His eyes lingered on her, tracking the way she moved and the subtle softness in her expression as she looked down at his daughter.
“Henrik,” she replied, matching his measured tone as she kept her posture straight and composed.
Before the servants could pull out her usual seat further down the table, Laura pulled insistently on Colette’s fingers, tugging her directly toward the chair right next to Henrik’s.
“Sit here!” Laura commanded with all the authority of a three-year-old.
Henrik looked on, surprise evident in his face, standing frozen by his chair as he watched his normally shy daughter cling to her.
Clearing his throat, his gaze traced the side of Colette’s neck where her bandage sat.
“Are you feeling better now?” “I am fine,” Colette replied promptly, settling into the chair Laura had picked out.
“Thank you.” Dinner proceeded in a quiet, peaceful rhythm.
Colette occasionally caught Henrik watching her whenever she leaned in to whisper to Laura, but she kept her focus grounded.
As soon as the plates were cleared, Laura tugged on Colette’s sleeve.
“Will you sing to me like last night?” Henrik shifted, opening his mouth to protest.
“Laura, she needs to rest…” Laura ignored her father, keeping her wide, hopeful eyes fixed entirely on Colette.
Feeling a wave of tenderness for the little girl, Colette simply smiled.
She let Laura take her hand and lead her out of the dining hall, leaving Henrik standing by the table.
In the quiet nursery, Colette tucked Laura beneath the heavy blankets.
Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she sang the same low, comforting lullaby as the night before, her voice soft in the dim lamplight.
When Laura’s breathing finally turned slow and even, Colette leaned down, kissed the little girl gently on her forehead, and pulled the duvet up a bit tighter.
She turned and walked toward the nursery door.
Upon opening it, Colette was startled to find Henrik standing just outside, he had obviously been listening.
A sharp wave of déjà vu hit her, it was an exact mirror of the previous night.
Caught off guard by the familiar, heavy tension in the air, Colette cleared her throat and straightened her spine.
“I won’t let another attack happen on my watch,” he said, his deep voice barely a whisper as he stepped forward, his eyes locked on hers.
“You have my word.” Colette looked up at him, forcing her gaze to remain unyielding despite the bone-deep fatigue in her shoulders.
“Don’t make guarantees you can’t enforce, Alpha,” she replied, the cold reality of their world settling between them.
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