Betrayed by Blood, Claimed by the Alpha-Chapter 114

Betrayed by Blood~

The palace gates loomed before him, taller and more imposing than ever. Matt’s breath came in short, sharp bursts as he pulled the car windows down, allowing the palace guards to see his face. Sweat slicked his brow despite the cool air. His fingers twitched, barely concealing the rising panic inside him. "Announce me," he ordered the guard who had stepped forward to identify him.

"Alpha Matt of the Silver Moon Pack is here to see the king," the guard announced, and the gates pulled open, allowing Matt in.

He drove in speedily, his thoughts running wild with one name echoing in his head: Xander.

Xander was back, and that meant everything was ruined. He had tried so hard to make the other man work with him, for him, but of course, Xander didn’t. He just had to escape, and despite all of Matt’s efforts to find him, it all went futile. Now, Xander was back in Vehiron. If Cain got a whiff of what he had done, he was done for.

No! That can’t happen. He cannot go down like Rowan did. He’s done everything right, even sacrificed his dignity to make things right. He refused to go down this way.

Matt rushed up the steps leading to the grand hall. "I need to see the king," he announced, his voice firm and filled with urgency. "Immediately."

The guards exchanged wary glances before stepping aside. "You may enter."

Matt clenched his fists to stop his hands from shaking as he walked through the grand doors. The palace hall was suffocating, filled with guards and servants.

At the far end of the hall, seated on a towering throne, was the King. The man stared at Matt, his eyebrows arched up at the sight of the boy.

"Matt? What brings you by?" Alaric said.

Matt barely made it a few steps closer before he dropped to his knees in an exaggerated bow, his head nearly touching the cold marble floor. "Your Majesty," his voice trembled slightly.

The king stared at the man, his head tilted slightly. "Matthew." King Alaric’s fingers tapped lazily against the armrest of his throne. "What brings you to my court so early?" He leaned forward, studying the alpha. "You look pale."

Matt swallowed hard. "I come with urgent news, my King." He forced himself to glance up. "Xander... he has returned to Cain’s pack."

Alaric didn’t look surprised or bothered to hear this.

Matt lowered his gaze again. "He—he knows everything. If Cain believes him, it will all be unraveled." His breathing was uneven now. "He will name me as the one behind it all."

Alaric hummed, considering. "And are you?"

Matt looked up. "No, my king, but Xander, he wants someone to take the fall. I know I am the easiest target, which means he will call my name. That cannot happen, and so I have come to you, My king. Please help me."

Alaric smirked, getting up to his feet and slowly walked down the little stairs to his throne. "Stand up, Matt."

Matt hesitated for only a moment before rising to his feet, his shoulders stiff, his fists clenched at his sides.

Alaric studied him for a long moment, an almost amused glint in his eyes. Then, he exhaled sharply, clasping his hands behind his back. "You speak of Cain as if he is a man of reason," he mused, voice laced with something that almost resembled mockery. "As if he would sit down and listen to every detail before tearing someone apart. The second Xander steps into that pack, he is dead. Xander doesn’t stand a chance, so why are you worried?"

Matt swallowed. "I—"

"Cain is a beast," Alaric cut in smoothly, pacing around him. "A rabid dog that kills first and asks questions later." He stopped at Matt’s side, lowering his voice. "Yet you come to me, shaking, begging for help, afraid of a dog you helped unleash."

Matt flinched.

Alaric chuckled. "What exactly do you want from me, Matt?"

Matt turned swiftly, his jaw tightening. "A way out," he admitted. "A way to ensure that Xander’s words hold no weight. That Cain never gets the chance to even consider them." He hesitated. "If you order him to drop this—"

Alaric laughed. The sound was deep, rich, and filled with condescension. "You think I command Cain?" He turned fully to face Matt, the smirk still playing on his lips. "You think a man like Cain, whose hands are stained in the blood of his own kin, will kneel to my will?"

Matt stiffened. "You are the King."

"And Cain is a war dog without a leash," Alaric countered easily. "He listens only when it suits him. And that’s even rare. It hasn’t ever happened that he has listened to me. And right now?" He stepped closer, voice lowering. "Right now, it does not."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Matt’s stomach churned. Was he... was he really out of options? Was there no way to stop this? He had done everything right, hadn’t he? Planned everything meticulously, ensured every step led to his favor. And yet, Xander’s return will ruin it all for him. Is this how he will go down? How his life will end?

Alaric studied him for a moment, then sighed. "But," he said, tilting his head. "Perhaps there is something I can do."

Matt’s head snapped up. "Anything, my King," he said quickly. "Whatever it is, I’ll do it. I can do it."

Alaric’s smirk widened. "Of course, you will."

He turned and walked back toward his throne, he sat down, tapping his fingers against the armrest.

Then, finally, he spoke.

"If you want to survive this, Matt," he said smoothly, "then you must make sure Cain does not live long enough to hear the truth."

Matt’s breath hitched, his eyes intense on the king.

The room seemed to still.

"What?"

"You heard me," Alaric said, his tone light, almost amused. "Kill Cain. Before he kills you."

_____________________________________

The doors to the Queen’s room creaked open, and Alaric stepped inside. The room was lit, and the scent of expensive oils and perfumes lingered in the air. By the vanity mirror, Ingrid sat, carefully dabbing a damp cloth against her skin as she wiped away the remnants of her makeup.

She caught his reflection in the mirror and quickly shot up from the seat, turning around. "My king. I didn’t know you would be coming tonight," she rushed out.

Alaric simply hummed, "Yet, you don’t seem pleased to see me."

Ingrid’s gaze widened at that. "That’s not true, my king," she rushed out.

Alaric paused to look at her, his eyebrows arched. "I couldn’t care less if it were true anyways," he replied dismissively, his gaze flickering around the room.

"Did you know?" he began.

Ingrid tensed up, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for whatever he was about to say. "Know what, my king?" she asked.

"Cain has found his mate."

Ingrid was taken aback. That was one news she had not been expecting. Cain found his mate?

"His mate?" she echoed.

"Yes, his mate. Poor little thing. Imagine being mated to a beast like Cain. Truly a nightmare," Alaric said.

At this, Ingrid looked at him. "Do you perhaps know who it is?" she asked, and Alaric chuckled.

"The goddess paired him with a servant. A lowborn. How pathetic is that?" Alaric said with a mocking scoff.

Alaric turned to face her. "Remember the little servant girl who served you in Vehiron?" he asked.

Ingrid’s breath hitched, her mind snapping back to the frail girl in servant’s clothes. It couldn’t be...

"That can’t be right," she said sharply. "A servant?"

Alaric shrugged. "Call it fate. Or a cruel joke," he smirked, watching her reaction. "But it’s true," he said and then walked towards the door again, not before stopping to look at her. "I wanted to know if you had an idea who his mate was if he had found one. Guess you didn’t know," he said and stepped out of the room.

Ingrid sat back down on the chair and continued cleaning her face, her mind running back to what Alaric had just told her.

The goddess loved to make jokes, giving people like Cain and Alaric mates who they didn’t deserve. Her mind flashed back to the girl—Avery, wasn’t it? A fragile thing with wide, wary eyes and a kind soul. It was so unfortunate that she had a man like Cain as a mate.

She shook her head and continued what she was doing. Minutes later, her phone buzzed. Ingrid glanced at it, her eyebrows furrowing the second she noted the number on the screen.

She swiped right, placing the phone against her ear. "What do you think you’re doing calling me? I’ve told you to wait until I call you. How hard is it to understand?" she whispered irritably.

"I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you, but it’s late now, and I thought—"

"You’re always thinking wrong," Ingrid snapped, her patience wearing thin.

"I have important news I think you would like to hear. That’s why I called," the person replied over the phone.

"What news?" Ingrid asked, turning around, her gaze darting to make sure no one was eavesdropping on her conversation.

"The king’s bastard child. I found her location," the man replied, and Ingrid stiffened at his words.

"Where?"

"Vehiron. There’s a high possibility that she resides in Vehiron."