Enzo’s POV
Dungeon?
The second I heard the word, something twisted hard inside my chest.
My blood ran cold, freezing the rage that had been boiling in my veins only moments before.
Rebecca wouldn’t survive in the dungeon.
She had suffered from claustrophobia ever since she was a child.
She hated small spaces; even as a little girl, she used to panic whenever she got trapped somewhere dark for too long.
I still remembered the day we found her trembling inside a storage room at eight years old, clawing at the walls and screaming for air while tears streamed down her tiny face.
I had been the one to pull her out.
I had been the one she clung to until her breathing finally steadied.
Three days underground would destroy her.
And Clara knew that.
She knew that better than anyone.
My eyes shifted toward Clara briefly, searching for a flicker of the sisterly love she claimed to have, but I found nothing.
I had asked Clara to set the punishment because I thought she would show mercy.
I thought she would give something symbolic—something easy to satisfy the bloodthirsty crowd.
I was wrong.
Three days in the dark, and then a year of servitude.
It was a slow, agonizing death for Rebecca.
I wanted to roar a contradiction, to take the words back before they settled into law.
But I had already spoken before the entire pack.
I had given Clara authority publicly on the first day of my reign.
If I backed down now—especially for the woman who supposedly tried to murder my bride—my pack would see me as weak.
They would see my weakness.
They would see that Rebecca was, and had always been, the one thing I couldn’t control.
I couldn’t allow that.
Not as Alpha.
My eyes locked onto Rebecca again.
She stood there silently, huge tears filling her blue eyes as she stared at me like she was begging me to save her.
Goddess.
That look alone nearly shattered my resolve.
I forced my voice to remain flat, turning my heart into stone.
“Clara has made her decision.
Rebecca Morriston will be imprisoned in the dungeon for three days.”
Rebecca’s face lost what little color she had left.
“And after her release,” I continued, forcing the words out, “she will be stripped of her royal status and serve as a maid in this palace for one year.”
“No!
Enzo, please!”
Rebecca suddenly stumbled toward me, reaching out as if she could still touch the man who had protected her yesterday.
My guards moved faster.
They blocked her path with brutal efficiency, one of them shoving her back roughly.
Too roughly.
Rebecca lost her footing, the heavy white lace of the wedding gown tangling around her legs.
I watched in slow motion as she went down, the back of her head slamming against the stone altar with a loud sound.
Anger, hot and uncontrolled, flared in my chest.
Blood appeared instantly at her forehead, sliding slowly down her temple to stain the white dress.
My wolf surged forward furiously.
I nearly moved—I nearly tore those guards apart—but I forced my boots to stay rooted to the floor.
Not here.
Not in front of a crowd that wanted her dead.
Still, I memorized their faces.
They would answer for that blood later.
Those guards would pay for their unnecessary roughness—I would see to it personally—but not here.
Rebecca pressed a trembling hand against her bleeding forehead, sobbing weakly.
“I didn’t do it… Enzo… please… I swear I didn’t…”
I rubbed my jaw hard, trying to think, but my head felt loud.
Nothing made sense anymore.
The Rebecca I knew—my Rebecca—was a saint.
She was reckless and spoiled, yes, but she once spent two days mourning a bird with a broken wing.
She could be many things, but a kidnapper?
A murderer?
It was something I couldn’t wrap my head around.
But then I looked at Clara, bruised and broken, and I remembered the obsession I had seen in Rebecca’s eyes lately.
Desperation changes people.
An obsessed and desperate woman can do anything.
She had worn the dress.
She had taken the vows.
She had been willing to live a lie just to have me.
“Guards,” I barked, turning my face away so I wouldn’t have to see the blood on her skin.
“Take her to the dungeon.”
Panic exploded across her face.
Her breathing instantly became shallow and uneven.
“No… please… not the dungeon…”
“Enzo, please!” she shrieked as the guards grabbed her arms.
“You know I can’t be down there… I’m claustrophobic!
I’ll die!
I’ll die down there!”
My heart sank.
Of course I knew.
She struggled violently, but two trained warriors were far stronger than one small girl.
They began dragging her across the marble, her heels scraping against the stone.
She kept yelling my name, her voice echoing off the high ceilings until it was the only thing I could hear.
“Enzo!
Please!
Don’t let them!
Enzo!”
I didn’t look back.
I couldn’t.
Because if I did, I knew I would tear those guards apart and carry her out of there myself.
And that was the one thing an Alpha could never afford to do.
After she was dragged away, I slowly turned back toward the crowd.
Hundreds of eyes were still fixed on me, waiting to see how their new Alpha would react.
I forced my expression into something cold and unreadable.
“Thank you all for attending,” I said flatly.
“The wedding is over.”
The guests immediately lowered their heads in submission.
“As you command, Alpha.”
I kept my chin high as I walked out of the ceremonial hall, feeling every eye in the room follow me.”
The moment I entered my private chambers and the doors shut behind me—I broke.
A harsh breath tore from my chest as I dragged both hands through my hair and dropped onto the edge of the bed.
My hands were shaking so badly I had to curl them into fists.
“Get a grip on yourself, Enzo,” I muttered hoarsely.
My elbows rested on my knees as I pressed my palms against my head, trying to stop the storm raging inside me.
She’ll survive.
She has to survive.
It’s only three days.
A sharp knock suddenly sounded on the chamber door.
Before I could answer, the door opened and Leviathan stepped inside.
My best friend took one look at me and frowned immediately.
“Enzo…” he said carefully.
“Are you okay?”
I knew what he was really asking: Why did you look like you were dying while sentencing a guilty person?
But I refused to say it aloud.
Instead, I straightened slightly and forced my face blank again.
“I want you to investigate Clara’s claims.”
Leviathan blinked.
“…You don’t fully trust her?”
I fell silent.
Because that was the problem—nothing made sense.
Why would Clara lie?
If she truly didn’t want to marry me, she could have rejected the union.
No one forced her to stand at that altar.
And those injuries…
My stomach twisted.
The bruises had looked real.
Too real.
Why would she hurt herself like that?
Everything pointed toward Rebecca being guilty.
Everything.
And yet… I still couldn’t rest.
I could still see Rebecca’s face when the sentence was announced.
The pure terror in her eyes hadn’t looked like guilt.
It looked like betrayal.
I slowly lifted my head toward Leviathan.
“Something isn’t adding up,” I admitted quietly.
Leviathan’s expression darkened immediately.
“What do you want me to do?”
My jaw tightened.
“Investigate everything,” I said coldly.
“The alleged kidnapping.
Clara’s injuries.
The guards stationed at the borders.
Everyone.”