River Pov
Dust motes danced in the single shaft of afternoon sun slicing through the grimy window. Killian's calloused hand rested on my shoulder as we moved—a silent, practiced choreography born of shared grief. My small cardboard box, its edges softened with wear, felt impossibly light in my hands. It held the ghosts of my mother: a faded photograph, a chipped teacup, a single, dried rose, pressed between the pages of a worn book. Her locket that had her picture. He circled the room, his gaze lingering on the bare walls, the chipped paint, the silence that hung heavy as a shroud. His eyes, the color of river stones, finally settled on the box. A flicker—a shadow of pity—crossed his face, then vanished. I lowered my head, the weight of my loss pressing down. "This… this is all I have left," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock in the hall. His fingers, surprisingly gentle, tilted my chin upward. His touch, warm and firm, held a strength that defied the sadness in his eyes. "A queen," he murmured, his voice low and resonant, "never bows her head."
The lingering warmth of our coupling still clung to the air as we descended the stairs, Killian's hand a vise around mine. His touch, once a gentle pressure, now thrummed with a raw energy – the wolf within me, unbound, howling a clearer song than ever before. Her voice, once a faint whisper, now resonated within my skull, a low purr laced with fatigue. *Almost back,* she promised. The dining room, a cavernous space dominated by a heavy oak table, loomed before us. And there, seated at its head, was Alpha Caden. His presence – a cold wave, the scent of pine and something sharper, something predatory – washed over me. My breath hitched, a tremor seizing my body. Killian felt the shift instantly. His grip tightened fractionally. "River, Amelia," he said, his voice low and controlled, "get some food. I need to speak with Alpha Caden." My hands, betraying my composure, trembled as I fumbled with a plate, the weight of the silver cutlery a leaden burden. Jennifer, her usual viper's smile twisting her lips, slithered to my side. "Don't get too comfortable," she hissed, the words like ice chips against my ear. "You won't be the King's Luna for long." Before I could respond, her head snapped forward, crashing into the laden table with the jarring clang of porcelain against wood. Amelia, a blur of motion, snatched her up, her growl a guttural rumble that shook the room. "Watch your tongue when you speak to *my* Luna." Amelia's words were laced with frost, but she released Jennifer without further violence. Jennifer, feigning tears, fled toward Jacob and Alpha Caden, a pathetic display that somehow amplified the threat in her eyes.
The air crackled, thick with unspoken threats. Alpha Caden's voice, a low growl that vibrated in my chest, cut through the tense silence. "Now, ladies," he purred, the honeyed tone a stark contrast to the steel in his eyes, "what's the goddamn commotion?" Jennifer, her smirk a painted sneer, trilled, "She called me a bitch, Alpha. Told me to shut my mouth." Amelia's retort was a guttural snarl, the scent of her rage a bitter tang in the air. "A lie! You know it's a lie!" Her eyes, blazing embers, dared anyone to dispute her. Killian, his presence a physical force, a predator coiled and ready to strike, intervened. "Speaking to *my* Luna like that is a death sentence." The words were a venomous hiss, laced with the possessive fury of a cornered wolf. Caden's throat cleared, the sound like gravel grinding. "With all due respect, my King," he said, his voice dripping with controlled menace, "I see no mark on River indicating your mating bond. That rule… doesn't apply." Jennifer's triumph was a sickeningly sweet thing, a poisonous bloom in the suffocating tension. But Caden's gaze shifted, his expression hardening. "However," his voice dropped, each syllable a stone thrown into the stagnant pool of the room, "our pack has its own laws regarding Omegas. Insulting the future Luna of this pack warrants… ten lashes." The blood drained from my face, leaving a stark, chilling pallor. Amelia shrieked, a desperate denial tearing from her lips. Carter's whispered curse, "Stupid, Caden," was a venomous breath against the looming storm. Killian was beside me in an instant, a wall of muscle and fury. The guttural growl that ripped from his throat sent shivers down my spine, a primal wave of fear that brought every knee to the floor except our own. Heads bowed, necks bared – a grotesque display of submission. "Anyone," Killian's voice was a death rattle, raw with the threat of violence, "who wants to touch *my* mate… will have their throat ripped out." The silence that followed was deafening, a heavy blanket woven with fear and dread. Killian trembled beside me, a controlled fury radiating from him, a potent mix of protectiveness and raw, untamed rage. I reached for him, needing the comfort of his solid presence as much as he needed mine. He pulled me close, his arm a cage of steel around me, a safe haven in the maelstrom of violence. Amelia and Carter stood sentinel behind us, their bodies taut, ready to fight to the death. Killian's eyes locked onto the bowed heads, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the floor, "Anyone. Who. Thinks. They can touch what is *mine*… will die."
My apologies, my King," Alpha Caden choked out, the words. Killians steely gaze bored into Alpha Caden, a palpable weight in the air thick with the scent of ozone and impending violence. "Of *course* we forgive the punishment," he hissed, the lie a bitter pill. "Jennifer will apologize," Amelia snarled, her voice a venomous whisper that slithered through the room, a physical chill replacing the oppressive heat. The air crackled with unspoken threats. Alpha Caden's nod was a curt, brutal thing. Jennifer's huff was a sound of pure defiance, a defiant tremor in the suffocating silence. "Apologize *at once* to my mate," Killian's voice, low and dangerous, sliced through the tension. His eyes, burning with a possessive fury, locked onto Jennifer, radiating a heat that singed my skin. Alpha Caden's growl, a low rumble in his chest, vibrated through the stone floor, shaking my very bones. "Now," he ground out, the word a threat both explicit and terrifying. Jennifer's head snapped up, her eyes blazing with hatred, cold and calculating. If looks could kill, I'd be dust, already swept away. The air itself seemed to crackle with the raw animosity. "I… I am sorry," she mumbled, the words ripped from her, laced with a venomous resentment that tasted more bitter than any apology. "Sorry to *whom*?" Killian's voice was a silken command, laced with steel. I pressed my fingers to my lips, desperately whispering, "I don't need this," only for Killian to respond with his hand brushing my cheek. His breath was warm, possessive, as he whispered back, a promise and a threat, "I *need* it." His gaze hardened, his voice dripping with an icy contempt. "Say it," he commanded, the words a death sentence hanging heavy in the air. The scent of her fear was almost palpable – a sickly sweet counterpoint to the metallic tang of blood. "I am sorry, my Queen Luna," she spat out, the words dripping with condescension, her head bowed in a gesture that felt more like a mockery than an apology. She fled, a blur of motion, vanishing into the shadows. Amelia's laughter, brittle and triumphant, echoed behind us, a cruel echo in the suffocating aftermath. "Serves her right," she hissed, the words a chilling testament to the merciless power dynamics within these walls.
We returned to the room and ordered food. Without a word, I found myself nestled against Killian, the rough weave of his shirt scratching pleasantly against my cheek. The plush carpet yielded beneath my weight. His arm, a solid, comforting weight, settled around me. The opening scene of the action movie blazed across the screen – a chaotic explosion of color and sound. But my attention drifted. His heartbeat, a steady drum against my ear, was more compelling than any special effect. The film's dialogue faded into a dull roar. I felt the subtle rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his body radiating into mine, a heat that chased away the lingering chill of the evening. Sleep claimed me, a gentle pull into the deep, dark comfort of his embrace. His hand, warm and strong, rested lightly on my back. I didn't even know his movie choices until the morning.