Chapter 17

“This way, ma’am,” one of the maids said, leading me down the hall.

My footsteps echoed against the marble floor, each step heavier than the last.

These were the very halls I ran through last night.

The very walls that heard me beg for help.

But none came.

Everyone was loyal to him here. Even the air that I breathe.

When we arrived at the Alpha King’s office, the massive double doors swung open with an ominous creak, the sound slicing through the suffocating silence of the hallway.

He was there, seated behind a massive mahogany desk, his dark head bent over a stack of papers. The glow of the firelight bathed the room in amber hues, but the warmth it offered didn’t reach me. It couldn’t. The air itself felt bitterly cold—an icy chill that seemed to emanate from him, wrapping itself around my chest like a vice.

The maids voice broke the silence. “Your Highness. She is here.”

He didn’t even glance up.

I lingered in the doorway, the weight of his presence pressing down on me like a physical force. My hands twisted nervously in the fabric of the yellow dress as I shifted from foot to foot.

“Good. You may leave,” he said, his voice deep and indifferent. It carried an authority that brooked no argument.

I heard the door close behind me, the sound reverberating in my ears like the toll of a bell.

And just like that, we were alone.

Or so I thought.

A low, guttural sound reached my ears—a purr, deep and unsettling. My heart stuttered in my chest.

Could it be…?

Before I could process the thought, something dark began to stir beneath his desk. It moved like a shadow unfurling, and then I saw it—a hulking black figure with sharp, glinting eyes emerging from the floor.

No, not a wolf.

A dog.

A huge one at that.

Its dark gaze locked onto me with predatory precision, and my breath caught in my throat. It wasn’t just any dog. I’d heard of this breed before—Rottweilers, the royal favorite.

They were fierce, loyal, and unrelenting.

I froze, my body stiffening as it bared its teeth at me, a low growl rumbling deep in its chest. Its intent was clear—I was an intruder, and this was its territory.

Panic flooded my veins.

Dogs and I had never been on friendly terms. It didn’t matter how much I tried to be kind, how often I offered food or extended a hand in peace—they always barked, growled, or worse, attacked. Maybe it was my shawl. Maybe it was my scarred face. Whatever the reason, dogs hated me.

And this one wasn’t an exception.

It took slow, deliberate steps toward me, each one slicing through my fragile courage like a blade. My throat felt dry, my legs rooted to the floor as if the marble had turned to quicksand.

“Y-Your Highness…” I managed to choke out, my voice trembling.

He barely acknowledged me, offering only a dismissive hum, his attention fixed on his papers.

I took a shaky step back.

Then another.

The wall met my back with a dull thud, cutting off my escape.

The dog’s eyes darkened, its growl growing more menacing as it stalked closer. My knees quaked as I pressed myself into the cold, unforgiving surface behind me.

“Your Highness! He doesn’t like me. I swear!”

Another hum, low and disinterested.

“He’s just assessing you, little mouse. Calm down.”

Calm down?

I stared at the beast as its growl deepened, hunger gleaming in its eyes.

“Assessing” wasn’t the word I’d use—it looked ready to rip me apart.

And then, in the grip of panic, I made the worst decision imaginable.

I ran.

The sharp barks that erupted behind me were like gunshots, and the sound of its claws scraping against the floor sent my heart into overdrive. I glanced around frantically, searching for an escape.

There was none.

With nowhere else to go, I scrambled onto the massive desk. My dress caught in the dog’s teeth, and I yanked at the fabric desperately.

A tug-of-war ensued—my dress the unwilling victim as I pulled and the dog refused to let go.

The sound of tearing fabric echoed through the room.

My dress gave way, a jagged strip of yellow caught in its jaws. I clambered higher onto the desk, hugging my knees to my chest. For a brief moment, I thought I was safe.

“Bane!”

The Alpha King’s voice thundered through the room, sharp and commanding. It froze me in place, and I wasn’t the only one.

The dog—Bane—immediately stopped, its growls silenced as it dropped its head in submission.

For a fleeting moment, relief washed over me.

But then I looked down.

My blood ran cold.

Ink was splattered across the desk, pooling around ruined documents and torn pages. The mess was catastrophic, a battlefield of spilled words and shattered order.

Oh no.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

The roar of his voice made me flinch. I turned slowly, dread pooling in my stomach as my gaze met his.

He leaned back in his chair, his silver eyes boring into me like twin blades. The pen in his hand remained poised, but the sharp, angry line of his jaw told me everything I needed to know.

Bane slinked to his feet, crawling to his master’s side with his head low.

But his eyes never left me.

And in that moment, I realized something with chilling clarity.

I was dead.