Chapter 22: Compromises
Chapter 22: Compromises
(Alexander’s POV)
The moment Marcus’s fingers closed around Celeste’s wrist, my control began to unravel. His
hand pressed into her scars–not gently, not accidentally. It was deliberate.
The way her body stiffened, the way she recoiled in quiet pain, made my white wolf snarl so
loudly within me I thought I would lose control.
“Careful now,” Marcus murmured, his voice dripping with false concern, though his smile
revealed his satisfaction.
His thumb brushed lightly over the deepest of her silver scars, pressing just enough to ensure her discomfort. “Celeste is delicate, isn’t she? Fragile.”
Fragile.
The word churned in my chest like venom. My wolf clawed harder against my restraint, wanting to rip through him.
But I stood still, watching the way Celeste froze under his grip, her head dipping slightly as though to accept it.
That image burned into me. The quiet surrender. The acceptance of cruelty. She didn’t even flinch anymore, not outwardly…
Marcus didn’t bother glancing in my direction. His eyes were entirely on her as he tilted his head, observing her like some prized possession. Every nerve in my body was alive, my muscles coiled, my wolf howling to attack.
“You wouldn’t want the Alpha King’s nephew thinking you’re weak, would you?” Marcus’s words were like a dagger, cutting through the weight of the silence.
Celeste’s lips parted, but no sound escaped. She just stood there, trapped, with her wrist caught under his thumb.
I stepped forward a fraction, the need to intervene nearly unbearable. But Celeste’s voice broke
the tension first.
“The Northern Range will help,” she said faintly, her tone emotionless, her gaze locked on the ground. “The cold might soothe my scars.”
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Chapter 22: Compromises
Her words were quiet, calm even. But that calmness carried a hollow weight. That was the
part that destroyed me. She wasn’t hopeful. She wasn’t optimistic. She was resigned.
Marcus finally turned toward me, his violet eyes gleaming triumphantly. He loosened his grip, sliding his fingers slowly off her wrist as if he deserved credit for being merciful.
“What do you think, Alexander?” His voice was mocking, casual. “Do you agree? Surely, you’ve seen the scars as well. Do you think the cold will help?”
His tone didn’t hide his amusement. He was baiting me, trying to tighten the leash I was
already fighting to control.
I clenched my fists at my side, my nails digging into my palms to ground myself. My voice
came out colder than I planned as I replied, “Silver scars don’t heal by cold. And they certainly
don’t heal by careless hands.”
The implication was clear. It wasn’t just careless–it was cruelty.
Marcus tilted his head and smirked, unbothered. “You speak from experience. How touching.”
Celeste stirred slightly, shifting a step away from him. But when she spoke, it wasn’t to me.
“The cold is enough,” she repeated, her voice hushed but firm. “And you should be glad,
Alexander.”
Her next words struck deeper than I was prepared for.
“It clears the way for your responsibilities,” she added, her faint smile twisting into a thin,
sharp blade. “I imagine Scarlett must be waiting.” ”
My chest tightened painfully. There was nothing warm in her voice–there hadn’t been for
years. But now, there was something colder. Something empty.
“That’s not-” I started, not even sure what I intended to say.
“It’s fine,” she interrupted. This time, her voice carried the faintest edge of sarcasm. “We’ve all
made compromises for peace.”
Compromises. Peace.
Every word carried a weight far heavier than the grove’s crushing air. I wanted to tell her to
stop, to explain, but the way her expression settled into icy calmness stopped me.
“You’re quite right,” Marcus cut in smoothly, stepping closer to her. His proximity forced
another flinch, one he seemed to savor. “Alexander’s responsibilities must keep him quite
occupied. But it means we can focus on ours now, Celeste.”
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He brushed a hand along the sleeve of his tailored jacket, smiling as if he were wrapping
things up neatly.
“Three moons,” Marcus declared. His voice filled the grove with crisp authority,, his confident
tone sharpening like a blade. “The ceremony will be magnificent. Our bond will finally be
recognized. Isn’t that what we’ve all wanted?”
His gaze lingered on me as he finished, daring me to protest. My wolf twisted, howling again
beneath my skin. The sound was deafening in my mind, drowning out Marcus’s triumph.
I forced my words through clenched teeth. “Three moons,” I echoed, locking my icy gaze on
Marcus. “A short timeline for something as binding as a mate bond.”
Marcus shrugged casually, unbothered. “When a wolf knows what it wants, it doesn’t waste
time, does it?”
His smirk was insufferable, and I wanted nothing more than to strike it off his face.
“Celeste’s agreement is what matters,” I said evenly, ice packing every word. “And her choice.”
Celeste’s head lifted slightly at that, her violet eyes flickering toward me for the briefest
moment before turning away once more.
I couldn’t read her. Her submission wasn’t just physical–it was in every guarded word she
spoke, every calculated pause.
Marcus chuckled, shaking his head lightly. He turned back to Celeste then, the gleam in his
eyes softening to something far more dangerous..
“No objections, right?” He didn’t ask her. He wasn’t seeking a real answer. He was stating a
fact she didn’t dare negate.
Celeste nodded faintly, enough to satisfy his silent demand. My wolf clawed harder against
- me. I wanted her to fight, to say no, to walk away. But I could see the resignation bleeding
through every line in her body.
“It’s a political choice.” Celeste’s voice was so soft it barely reached past the tension choking
the air.
Marcus latched onto her words quickly, his satisfaction dripping from every syllable. “And
what a political choice it is.”
I froze. My wolf bristled violently at the way her head remained lowered, her limp painfully
evident as she attempted to walk away with what little dignity she had left.
“Celeste-” my voice cracked without meaning to, but I didn’t finish. The hardness on her face
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Chapter 22: Compromises
only grew colder as she continued without looking back.
Marcus laughed lowly once more, his proud steps crunching against the leaves beneath him.
“She’s tougher than she looks,” Marcus said smugly, his violet eyes flickering in challenge as
he addressed me one last time. “Don’t wait too long, Alexander. Miss your chances, and the
years don’t forgive.”
Feelings of sheer helplessness and anger surged within me in equal measure. But I couldn’t indulge them. I couldn’t explode here, in this place.
Just before Marcus could fully pass me, I spoke, sharp and heavy with layered meaning. “She chooses,” I said. “Not you. Not me. Her choice stands above ours.”
My words shut out everything else, hanging like a vice grip around us all.
But Marcus only smirked. He took a single step closer, his expression infuriatingly easy. Choices are funny, Beta Alexander,” Marcus drawled. “You think you understand them… until
you realize there was no choice at all.”
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