Caspian’s POV
“Alpha, we discovered a body just before sunrise.”
Logan’s words cut through the morning stillness like a blade.
His voice carried the weight of bad news, steady but urgent.
I kept my eyes on the tall mirror in front of me.
My attendant worked behind me, securing the ceremonial clasps of my formal robe.
The rich black and crimson fabric settled across my shoulders, heavy with the burden of leadership and tradition.
Through the mirror’s reflection, I watched Logan step deeper into my chambers.
“Another werewolf victim.
Same killing pattern.
The heart was carved out.”
My hands stopped moving against the fabric.
A cold fury began building in my chest, spreading through my veins like poison.
I turned slowly, fixing my golden gaze on Logan’s face.
“Location?”
Logan reached inside his jacket and withdrew a manila folder.
“Main city limits.
Close to the merchant district.”
He extended a photograph toward me.
The sight was horrific.
The killing was surgical.
No evidence of a fight.
The victim’s chest had been torn open with methodical precision, the heart completely removed.
This wasn’t a random attack.
Someone was sending a message.
The meaning remained unclear, but the threat was undeniable.
I clenched my jaw and returned the photograph.
“My brother’s status?”
“He’s increased patrols throughout the city but wants your direct orders.”
I drew in a measured breath.
“Tell him to triple the security detail and launch a comprehensive investigation.”
Logan gave a respectful nod.
“What about our timeline?”
“We head back to the city in two days.”
Logan bowed his acknowledgment.
As he moved toward the door, I called out once more.
“Talia’s situation?”
Logan paused for a heartbeat before responding.
“Madame Hildegard is attending to her preparations.”
I nodded curtly and faced the mirror again.
The previous evening, I had abandoned her at dinner.
It hadn’t been my intention.
A critical strategy session with my war council had consumed my attention.
When Logan finally reminded me, the damage was already done.
Had she remained seated, waiting?
Had she simmered in silent anger?
Or had she whispered curses about me into the empty dining room?
The thought almost brought a smile to my face.
The Talia I knew from Moonstone wasn’t some fragile flower.
She had a sharp tongue and wasn’t afraid to use it when provoked.
But then my mind drifted back to yesterday’s scene.
Maddox had hauled her from the chicken coop like she was livestock.
She was covered in grime and feathers, reeking of barnyard filth.
For one brief moment, my wolf had growled with protective rage.
Not directed at her, but at those who had degraded her.
She had stood before me, shaking but defiant.
No tears, no pleading for mercy.
She had rejected my command and instead issued her own terms.
I had given her a direct order.
Her own father had disowned her.
Yet she still dared to challenge me.
A slight grin tugged at my mouth.
She had battled me over the bedroom arrangement too.
She had insisted on separate quarters, as if I had ever intended to share my private space with her.
So I had granted her wish.
I had given her precisely what she requested.
A room in the farthest wing, tucked away behind countless staircases and winding hallways.
Had she grasped the lesson after navigating all those stairs last night?
Perhaps now she understood that I don’t bargain.
I give orders.
“Finished, my Alpha.” My attendant stepped back and retrieved a crimson velvet case from the nearby table.
He opened it carefully, revealing a golden insignia bearing my family’s ancestral symbol.
With steady hands, he attached it to the left side of my chest, then added the remaining ceremonial ornaments.
Something felt wrong.
I frowned and shifted the insignia slightly.
“It’s crooked.”
The attendant went pale.
“My deepest apologies, my Alpha.
I’ll correct it right away.”
While he fumbled with the adjustment, the chamber door burst open.
I didn’t need to look to identify the intruder.
Thatcher Vanderbilt.
My father.
His authority flooded the room before he uttered a single word.
Domineering.
Overwhelming.
Uncompromising.
Behind him strode Silas Vaughn, my most trusted counsel and loyal friend.
Unlike my father’s storm, Silas moved like still water.
He chose his words carefully, but when he spoke, everyone listened.
I already knew the reason for their visit.
“Caspian.” My father’s tone was razor-sharp.
“Cancel this wedding ceremony.”
I suppressed an irritated sigh.
“We’ve already discussed this matter.”
“Because you continue to ignore reason.”
He moved closer, his dark eyes burning with intensity.
“The Council Elders oppose this union.
They view Talia as a danger.”
I blinked slowly.
“Is that so?”
“They refuse to endorse this marriage and will take extreme measures to remove her,” my father continued.
So the game had already started.
This development didn’t surprise me.
The Council Elders were nothing if not predictable in their hunger for control.
And I had anticipated their moves.
“Then she’ll need to prove herself worthy of survival,” I said with indifference.
“Their approval isn’t required.”
My father’s nostrils flared with anger.
“Caspian, this is complete insanity.
What Alpha King chooses a cursed, powerless woman for his queen?”
I pivoted to confront him directly.
“The kind of Alpha King who bows to no one.”
My dominance radiated outward, thick and choking.
It served as both warning and promise.
My father’s jaw muscle twitched.
“This isn’t some childish game, Caspian!”
He was failing to sway me.
And he knew it.
The tension stretched between us for long moments.
Then Silas’s voice cut through the standoff.
“You’re missing the bigger picture, Thatcher.”
His words were measured and unwavering as he addressed my father.
“Caspian’s choice of Talia Blackwood isn’t driven by sentiment.
This is strategic thinking.”
My father exhaled harshly.
“Then explain it to me.”
Silas’s gaze remained fixed and steady.
“If Caspian had selected a royal Alpha’s daughter, the other leaders would interpret it as a power grab.
A declaration of open warfare.”
He paused deliberately.
“They would compete for supremacy.
It would fracture the packs and ignite civil war.”
Silas’s eyes shifted toward me.
“By selecting a powerless, wolfless bride, he eliminates that conflict.
For the moment.”
The strategy was now exposed.
This decision had nothing to do with Talia personally.
This was about preventing the werewolf leadership from destroying each other in a bloody power struggle.
Five major royal bloodlines controlled our Werewolf Community.
Each clan governed in rotating cycles lasting years.
As heir to the throne, certain battles were unavoidable.
My father fell silent.
His jaw worked with tension, but I could see his mind processing the logic.
He recognized that Silas spoke truth.
After a lengthy silence, my father released a sharp breath.
“I trust you understand the consequences of your actions.”
I held his stare without wavering.
“I always do.”