The Alpha’s Punishment Her Faked Death, His Ruin

Lily stood nearby, a vial of wolfsbane extract clutched in her delicate fingers, her expression radiating smug satisfaction.

"Two full cycles of the moon you devoted to that piece. Let us see how you will flaunt your talents before Alaric now."

Rage surged through my veins like wildfire. My hand moved before conscious thought could intervene, striking her cheek with a sharp crack that echoed through the ruined studio.

"You have spent months spreading whispers that I treat you as a lowly servant," I said, my voice cold as winter frost. "Very well. For the next three days, you shall truly know what that means. You will clean every corner of my gallery until it gleams like moonlight on fresh snow."

But the moment those words escaped my lips, the heavy oak door crashed open.

Alaric strode in, his powerful frame filling the doorway, brow furrowed with barely contained displeasure. Without uttering a single word, he pulled Lily behind his broad back, shielding her with his body.

"Lyra, can you not control that wild temper of yours for once?" His voice cut through the air like sharpened ice. "Lily works so hard to please this pack. Yes, she comes from a lesser bloodline—but why must you constantly target her?"

My chest heaved with fury, my wolf clawing beneath my skin. "Alaric, you need to understand what truly happened. She was the one who—"

Before I could finish speaking, Lily threw herself into his arms, her body trembling with theatrical sobs.

"Alaric, please forgive me! I was only trying to help Lyra organize her den-studio, and I accidentally destroyed her painting. She threatened to cast me out to the rogue territories! She called my mother a packless whore and said the pup inherited the dam's weakness!"

Her voice cracked and wavered, tears streaming down her pale cheeks—the perfect portrait of wounded innocence.

"I can endure being struck. I can bear harsh words. But why must she drag my mother's memory through the mud?"

Alaric did not ask for my account of events. Did not investigate. He simply accepted her words as truth.

His gaze turned glacial, golden Alpha eyes boring into mine with disappointment. "Lyra, when did you become this cruel creature? You have disappointed me deeply."

I wanted to howl my frustration to the moon itself.

Even with Alaric defending her at every turn, I refused to yield my ground. For three days, Lily scrubbed and swept like the servant she had always pretended to be.

When the punishment concluded, Alaric acted as though nothing significant had occurred. He merely released a soft sigh—light, dismissive.

"That fierce temper of yours, Lyra. When will you learn to let such trivial matters pass? It was merely a painting."

"You have had your vengeance. Let us move forward."

I was naive enough to believe we had.

Several days later, devastating news spread through the territories that Alaric's pack had suffered a catastrophic collapse. Ancient alliances crumbled overnight.

He was taken into Council custody shortly after, leaving me alone to face the destruction.

At first, worry did not consume me. Even if the Blackthorn pack fell into ruin, I still had my parents, my birth pack.

I sent urgent scent-messages immediately.

Both trails had gone cold, severed completely.

Panic clawed at my throat like a feral beast.

I raced back to the Nightveil estate, only to have Cedric meet me at the entrance, his weathered face pale as bone.

The day they received word of Alaric's capture, my parents had rushed back to offer their aid. A mountain storm had caught their carriage on the treacherous pass.

Neither survived the fall.

In a single night, my entire world crumbled to ash.

No mate. No parents. No pack left to shelter me.

I sold everything I possessed and retreated to a damp underground den at the edge of unclaimed territory, hiding from the rogue hunters who had purchased Alaric's blood debts.

Sleep became an impossibility. I would lie awake through endless nights, flinching at every rustle, every distant howl.

Eventually, they tracked my scent.

A group of rogues kicked down my door, armed with silver-tipped clubs.

They shattered two of my ribs. Broke my wrist so badly that I could never hold a brush again, could never create the moon-blessed art that had once defined me.

It took three years to accept my fate.

I surrendered everything—my art, my pride, my dreams of finding my true mate—just to survive another day.

And now I was being told it had all been an elaborate deception.

Alaric's "penance" had stripped me raw, peeled away every layer of who I once was, and rebuilt me into someone I could no longer recognize.

My message stone hummed with incoming energy.

A scent-message from Alaric.

"Lyra, I am being released from Council holding in three days. Do not forget to collect me."

My fingers tightened around the smooth stone until my knuckles went white. A dull ache spread through my chest, settling deep in my bones.

Even now, he was still playing his cruel games.

He was already at his celebration gathering. I had witnessed it with my own eyes.

He had been holding Lily close, celebrating his freedom, surrounded by an enormous feast and beautiful decorations befitting an Alpha heir.

And yet he was still treating me like a fool to be manipulated.

I stared at those words until tears blurred my vision, turning the glowing script into meaningless smears of light.

Then I blinked them away and read the message once more.