The Alpha’s Punishment Her Faked Death, His Ruin

Their laughter only swelled, echoing off the stone walls of the den.

At last, the wolf who had stayed silent spoke. He lounged across the leather seating, exhaling a slow breath that carried the sharp bite of smoke.

"Get out."

"Even if you dropped to your belly and showed throat a hundred times, we wouldn't lift a claw for you."

Because Alaric had given them their orders long before any of this began.

Penance was penance.

For three full years, they were forbidden to show me even a shred of mercy or offer me the smallest kindness.

Only then could they properly avenge his precious Omega Liaison, Lily Ashgrove.

So how did I scrape together those five hundred silver marks?

I walked into a territory infirmary and let them drain my blood.

Later, I carried that payment to the pack holding cells, only to be told Alaric had already been released under a healer's dispensation.

The coins passed through hand after hand until they finally reached one of Alaric's packmates.

I was so desperate I nearly dropped to my knees and bared my throat.

"Please—please make sure this reaches Alaric. He cannot fall into more trouble with the Council."

But at that very moment, Alaric was with his little Omega at the harvest festival grounds, posing for memory-captures like they hadn't a worry beneath the moon.

He tossed those five hundred silver marks at a festival worker like they were scraps from a kill.

"Filthy coin from the goddess knows where. Disgusting."

Just like my heart—crushed beneath his heel without a second thought.

And now, here was Alaric, personally overseeing every detail of Lily's birth-moon gala. A moonstone vessel worth more than most wolves earned in a lifetime sat on display as mere decoration.

Every detail had been arranged with meticulous care.

But I could not bear to watch any longer.

I nearly lost control more than once. I wanted to storm across the gathering hall, to rake my claws across his face until the marks never healed.

I wanted to demand answers. Why did you deceive me for three years? Just because I made Lily serve as a household attendant for three days?

I wanted to tear away my clothing and show him every scar, every wound I had collected over these three years.

But in the end, I did nothing.

I watched the wolf who should have been confined in the binding den for three more days. He stood there in ceremonial attire that cost more than everything I possessed, looking every inch the ruthless Alpha Heir.

He pulled Lily—his precious little Omega—into his arms, his expression softening with adoration as he wished her a joyful birth-moon.

Then I turned away, my face revealing nothing, and made my way back to my underground den.

Dark. Damp. I had survived here for three years.

The washing alcove sat just inside the entrance. Mold crept across the walls in patches that had built up over moons and seasons. The scent of decay drifted through the stale air without warning.

When I first took shelter here, I retched every single day.

For the first twenty-five years of my life, I had been cherished. The precious firstborn daughter of the Nightveil bloodline. I had never known a day of true hardship.

I was a moon-blessed artist, celebrated across territories. Recognition and honors lined my shelves—so many I had lost count.

At the height of my renown, Alaric Blackthorn—the golden heir of the Blackthorn Pack—dropped to one knee and offered his claiming promise.

After we completed our mating bond, he indulged me even more.

Just like that, I had become the she-wolf every female dreamed of being. The pack whispers called me "fortune's chosen."

Until Alaric brought a timid, soft-voiced Omega Liaison into his service named Lily Ashgrove.

She was the daughter of my family's household attendant, yet she competed with me at every turn.

Her garments were not as fine as mine, so she mocked me as a useless trophy mate.

Her abilities could not match mine, so she whispered behind my back that I had either been born under a lucky moon or spread my legs to reach my standing.

Worse still, she had schemed her way into becoming Alaric's personal Omega Liaison—and never missed a chance to poison his thoughts against me.

She told him I tormented her mother in our estate. That I destroyed her clothing.

That I had forced her to kneel and serve me like a lowborn servant.

I believed the truth would speak for itself. I never bothered to defend my honor.

Until the day I finally completed the painting I had worked on for two years.

I was about to have it properly mounted and preserved. I stepped away for just a moment.

When I returned, it was covered in ink.