Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice
Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice
(Celeste’s POV)
The sacred stillness of the Moon Temple clung to me as I stepped outside into the crisp
evening air. My silver–scarred wolf whimpered softly, the day’s relentless agony carving deep
into my already fractured spirit.
Wolfsbane burns down my arms pulsed with each movement. Marcus’s cruelty had etched
itself into my flesh, and every step back to my quarters felt like a trial of endurance.
But nothing compared to the weight of the pack’s cold gazes. Their judgment lingered, trailing
me like dark shadows.
The faint scent of pine–frost caught my attention. My breath hitched involuntarily. I knew that
scent all too well.
Alexander.
He leaned casually against the twisted oak outside the temple, his powerful, defined frame
relaxed, as though he had all the time in the world. The moonlight caught the silver streak in
his dark hair, turning it into a glinting blade.
His ice–blue eyes locked onto me immediately. They were unreadable, sharp, laced with
something cold yet simmering underneath.
“So eager to become the Alpha King’s nephew’s mate, are you?”
The timber of his voice was low and mocking, cutting clearly through the still air. His words
sliced into me like the edge of a silver blade, bringing a fresh wave of irritation.
Yet I wasn’t surprised by his bitterness–it was something we both shared in small,
unknowable fragments.
Pausing mid–stride, I kept my back to him. I didn’t need to face him to feel the weight of his
eyes burning into me. My wolf bristled uneasily under his scrutiny, curling inward in defense.
“Does the pack’s strongest warrior,” I replied, my voice soft yet barbed with acidic calm,
“believe my life would be as difficult as it is now if I were Marcus’s mate?”
The question hung between us, sharp and heavy, charged with suppressed truths neither of us
wanted to confront.
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Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice
Through the fading connection between us, I felt his wolf recoil slightly. Yet at the same time,
Steelclaw surged forward, agitated and restless.
Alexander didn’t respond immediately. His silence was its own answer.
Without sparing him a glance, I resumed my unsteady steps, the pain in my limbs threatening
to buckle my knees with every passing moment.
But no matter how much my body screamed for rest, I refused to falter in his presence. Not
here. Not ever.
The journey back to the pack house stretched endlessly. My steps were sluggish, and my breathing grew shallow. Every inch of my body felt like screaming under the weight of Marcus’s punishment paired with today’s ordeal.
A sharp pang shot through my ribs, making me stumble. A bitterly familiar feeling surged in my chest: shame–the kind born from weakness.
But just as darkness began to cloud my vision, the scent of healing herbs cut through it.
“Miss Celeste,” came Dr. Pierce’s voice, steady and calm like a lifeline anchoring me. His hands reached out just in time to steady me before my knees could collapse entirely.
The pack healer’s golden eyes were lined with concern as he spoke again. “Easy now.” Despite the professionalism of his tone, a thread of urgency bled through his words.
I tried to argue. “I’m fine. Just need…”
“No, you’re not,” he cut me off sharply. Pierce wasn’t one to mince words. His hands moved deftly, steadying me against the nearby wall before carefully inspecting my bandages, now completely soaked with fresh blood.
The mixture of wolfsbane burns and silver poisoning was taking its toll on my system.
Before I could protest further, Pierce pressed something against my lips. “Moon–blessed
herbs,” he instructed firmly. “Breathe slowly as they work.”
Despite myself, I obeyed. The potent blend struck immediately, sending waves of intense
dizziness crashing over me. I felt my consciousness slipping.
The last thing I heard before darkness claimed me was his voice muttering, “You push
yourself far too hard, child.”
–
(Alexander’s POV)
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Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice
The Silver Creek tavern brimmed with the usual cacophony of laughter, clinking glasses, and murmured conversations that filled its hearth–like glow nightly.
Yet my focus remained fixed on Lucas.
He sat hunched at the bar’s edge, the warped wood cluttered with empty glasses of
half–drained moon–blessed wine.
His golden eyes were glassy and dull, radiating simmering unrest just below the surface.
“You look terrible,” I said coolly. There was no effort to mask the edge in my words as I pulled out a chair, sitting opposite him.
“Have something to say, or did you come here to lecture me?” Lucas scoffed, his words slurred
ever so slightly. His wolf still carried traces of the aggression from earlier–the raw energy spilling out messily from the heavy turbulence inside him.
Instead of answering, I grabbed the bottle of moon–blessed wine and poured myself a glass.
The burn of the drink was dull on my tongue–barely enough to distract from the bubbling mix
of dissatisfaction and unease crystallizing within me.
“You don’t fool me,” Lucas continued, his voice steadying through sheer stubbornness. “You’re
just as damn angry as I am–over Scarlett, over her.”
He didn’t need to elaborate on “her.” The weight of Celeste’s presence lingered like a phantom
between us.
My silent acknowledgment seemed to infuriate Lucas further as he leaned forward, slamming
his glass against the bar’s surface with unnecessary force.
“I came to talk about Marcus’s mate claim,” he snapped, his voice dropping low. “That damn
girl has no sense of self–preservation. Still fixated on gaining royal protection, no matter the
cost–even after what he did. You need to talk some sense into her!”
I raised an eyebrow as I took another deliberate sip from my glass. The irony of Lucas giving
me such advice was not lost on me.
“Why not let her mate with him?”
The blow of my question landed hard–sharper than any strike.
Lucas jerked back, his wolf recoiling visibly in stunned silence. Then his golden eyes narrowed fiercely, glowing faintly as his wolf surged beneath the surface.
‘Did you even see her injuries?” His voice cracked, raw edges of suppressed anger bleeding
through. “If she mates with Marcus, she’ll be dead within three moons. Believe me. I’ve seen
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Chapter 121: A Bitter Choice
what his wolves leave behind.”
The tavern briefly quieted around us, the surrounding faces subtly shifting away as they sensed the tension radiating between us.
“Can she even survive in the pack as it is?” I countered calmly. My white wolf stirred uneasily
as I spoke, but I pressed on–direct, unflinching.
The fire in Lucas’s gaze blazed dangerously, spilling over as the glass in his hand shattered. The sharp sound of breaking glass punctured through the thick air, drawing faint murmurs of
uneasy attention from nearby patrons.
Drunk or not, Lucas’s temper bubbled dangerously close to unmanageable.
“Alexander,” he growled lowly. His voice cut through the air like a blade, bridging the fine line between warning and desperation. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
His wolf bristled openly now, dominating the space between us with roiling aggression. But
my wolf remained cold and unbothered–its icy energy casting a sharper edge against Lucas’s
fire.
“…Do you even plan to stop her–someone has to!” His voice broke as he stumbled over
desperation.
Leaning forward slightly, I fixed my ice–blue gaze onto him. The pointed intensity swirling in my expression was enough to make even him hesitate momentarily.
“You’re not going to stop it,” I murmured flatly. “None of us will. The forces holding this claim together are far stronger than either of us–and you know it.”
Lucas blinked slowly, his wolf stuttering as my words fully landed. He looked visibly sickened, his hands tightening into trembling fists barely able to contain the frustration snarling
beneath.
The truth of my words settled heavily between us. We both knew the forces pushing this mating forward – Alpha James, determined to maintain pack alliances; Luna Victoria, desperate to secure her position; and Regina Blackwood, orchestrating everything from the
shadows.
Lucas’s wolf whined softly, a sound of distress he couldn’t quite contain. The golden fire in his eyes dimmed slightly as reality sank in.
