Chapter 233:

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I gave you my most sacred vow. I laid my weaknesses bare before you. And you, even in your sleep, you are plotting your escape? You are still guarding yourself against me?

The feeling of betrayal was a venomous vine, wrapping around my heart, squeezing until a dark, mad thought took root.

Maybe… I shouldn’t give her the chance to leave.

Maybe I should build her a cage. The most beautiful cage in the world, with golden chains, so she could only stay by my side, her eyes only ever seeing me.

The thought was intoxicating. My wolf howled in agreement, urging me on.

I reached out my hand. My fingertips hovered over the delicate line of her throat. It would be so easy. I could mark her now, a permanent claim that would bind her to me forever. She would never be able to run.

My hand stopped, a mere inch from her skin.

I saw the faint, glistening tracks on her cheeks. The remnants of tears she had shed earlier, tears of relief and gratitude for my vow.

The madness, the possessive darkness raging inside me, was miraculously quelled by the sight of her tears.

I pulled my hand back, clenching it into a fist so tight my nails dug into my palm.

𝘞𝖾𝗲𝘬𝘭y 𝘳el𝗲𝗮𝗌𝗲ѕ o𝘯 𝗀а𝘭ո𝘰𝗏е𝗅𝘴.сo𝗺

No. Not like this.

I wanted her heart, not just her submission.

Demetri Contreras POV:

I sat at the head of the long council table, the seat beside me — Haven’s seat, the Luna’s seat — pointedly empty. This is my battlefield, she had said.

The air in the council hall was thick with tension. The Pack’s elders and core members filled the remaining chairs.

Arthur Baldwin, the finance minister, a portly man with shrewd, piggy eyes, cleared his throat and began his performance. He droned on, listing figures and projections, his argument circling its inevitable conclusion.

“…and so, I propose that for this quarter, we cut funding to the border defense by thirty percent,” he announced, his voice oozing arrogance.

Across the table, Gideon, the burly Gamma who led our warriors, slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet.

“Absurd!” he roared. “Arthur, my men are dying to protect our homes, and you want to cut their rations?”

Arthur replied slowly, condescendingly. “General Gideon, please. I am merely speaking the language of numbers. And the numbers show that conflict with the Rogues has decreased in the last three months. Such high military spending is a waste.”

Gideon’s face turned purple with rage, but he had no counter-argument beyond sputtering, “My warriors need the funds.”

I watched, my face a mask of neutrality. Arthur’s data was correct, of course. I had personally engineered this period of “peace” to lure him into this very trap.

My dear brother, Darren, stood up to play his usual role of peacemaker.

“Perhaps we can compromise,” Darren said with his practiced, charming smile. “A fifteen percent cut?”

How utterly pathetic.

The council was at a stalemate. All eyes turned to me.

I let the silence stretch, then spoke, my voice quiet but carrying to every corner of the room. “I agree with Elder Arthur’s proposal.”

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