The tension in the air had been palpable as Liz faced Gabriel, her accusations flowing forth fueled by a potent mix of anger and uncertainty.
The Moonchild prophecy, the Blood of the Moon, had driven her to that point, her eyes ablaze with a mixture of fear and determination.
The initial silence had hung heavy, the atmosphere charged with an unspoken challenge. Liz had held her ground, her gaze locked onto Gabriel's, demanding answers.
Amidst that tense tableau, a subtle transformation had played across Gabriel's features. His lips had curled, not into a pleasant smile, but a mocking one that had twisted his handsome features into a mask of derision.
The air had grown colder as his laughter had filled the room, rich and barbed, spreading an unsettling edge that had cut through the charged atmosphere.
"You can't be serious, Liz," Gabriel's voice, dripping with condescension, had broken the silence. His words had been coated in superiority, stoking her anger even further.
"What?!"
"You truly believe in that baseless fairy tale?" His tone had brushed aside her beliefs, treating her as if she were a child lost in a fantastical daydream.
Liz's anger had surged, her fists clenched at her sides. How could he dismiss the prophecy that had consumed her thoughts and guided her actions for so long?
A potent mixture of frustration and determination had trembled in her voice as she had retorted, "This isn't a joke, Gabriel. The Moonchild's prophecy holds real power, and as a werewolf, you must surely know about it."
Despite her impassioned words, Gabriel had remained silent, leaning casually against the table's edge. Unbeknownst to her, his fingers had tightened their grip on the table's edge, knuckles turning white as he had wrestled with his emotions.
A subtle tremor had coursed through his body, a physical manifestation of the inner turmoil he had struggled to contain.
In the face of her fervent argument, Gabriel's laughter had rung out once more, a sharp contrast to the gravity of the situation.
The sound had echoed in the room, mocking the intensity of the moment.
"Power? The only power the prophecy holds is the power to reduce you to a child, clutching onto fairy tales that have no place in the real world."
His smirk had accentuated his skepticism, revealing his doubt and portraying her beliefs as naive.
His words had struck her like a blow, fueling the flames of Liz's anger. Acting on instinct, she had lunged forward, her finger pointing accusingly at Gabriel.
"You understand. You've felt the weight of the prophecy looming over you, deciphering cryptic verses about bloodlines and destinies! You're a werewolf, a fucking Alpha at that! You must believe in the Moonchild prophecy—the one destined to become the Alpha of all werewolf packs in the world!"
A shift had crossed Gabriel's expression, his narrowed eyes assessing the intensity of Liz's rage. "How dare you point your human fingers at me," Gabriel's voice had remained composed, but his eyes had blazed with suppressed fury.
"I'm an Alpha, and you're my temporary imprint. You may have been my plaything for the past month, but you've crossed a line, Liz. I need to remind you of your place and put you back in line!"
In an instant, his demeanor had changed. An aura of power had emanated from him, unmistakably that of an Alpha. It had been a force radiating authority and dominance, commanding both attention and obedience.
Liz's breath had caught in her throat as an invisible pressure had descended upon her, a weight that had seemed to push her to her knees.
The air had crackled with an intensity that had been almost suffocating, and her heart had raced under the weight of his Alpha power.
Her defiant gaze had wavered, her body involuntarily submitting to the overwhelming dominance Gabriel had projected. The room had seemed to constrict, walls closing in as his forceful presence had asserted itself.
"W-what... what's happening," she had stammered, her words fragmented by the overwhelming sensations surging through her. Her body had felt weak, her breathing labored, and her surroundings had twisted and blurred.
Liz's reality had shifted, the room warping around her like a distorted reflection in a funhouse mirror. Intense fear had gripped her heart, squeezing it with relentless force.
She had fought against an unseen current, trembling uncontrollably as Gabriel's power had enveloped her.
It had been as if she were ensnared within an invisible cage, her every movement restricted by Gabriel's unparalleled strength.
Her sense of self had dimmed beneath his dominance, rendering her feeling helpless and insignificant.
"Good girl," his voice had rumbled, a blend of satisfaction and amusement in his tone. "You're finally obeying. When I say be quiet, you'll be quiet. When I say sit, you'll sit."
His words had echoed with a chilling reminder of the control he held over her, the depth of his power mingling with awe and fear.
A shiver had run down her spine as his gaze had intensified, his eyes narrowing with a seductive and taunting gleam.
"And if I were to command you to undress right now, you would," Gabriel had continued, a wicked grin tugging at his lips.
His eyes had sparkled with a malevolent glint, the dominance he had exuded resounding in every word he had spoken.
"No... no," Liz had protested, her voice trembling with defiance and fear. Involuntarily, her fingers had begun to unbutton her jacket, movements hesitant and involuntary.
Piece by piece, her clothing had fallen to the floor—the jacket, the shirt—until she had been left in just her undergarments.
She had remained kneeling on the cold floor of the mayor's office, her body shivering as she had resisted the compulsion.
"Submit to me," Gabriel's voice had pierced the room, cold and authoritative, his gaze unyielding.