Chapter 2

Chapter 2

All That Glitters

A predator doesn’t ponder the morality of its actions—it simply takes.

That’s who I am. Killian Black, the wolf at the top of the food chain.

The Alpha King of this ugly world.

I groaned, my head pounding as sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my chambers. The golden chandelier overhead sparkled, mocking me with its pristine perfection. My peace was shattered by the soft shuffle of feet and the sickly-sweet voice of my butler.

“Good morning, Master. Your breakfast is ready.”

Before I could even respond, slippers were slid under my feet, and maids flooded the room like obedient ants. The air was heavy with the scent of lavender and submission. I hated it.

“Black coffee,” I muttered, dismissing them with a wave of my hand.

They scurried out like mice, leaving behind only silence. Good. They’d learned after yesterday.

I stretched, the silk robe sliding over my shoulders as I made my way to the mirror. My reflection stared back, unflinching. Green eyes like cursed emeralds, a sharp nose carved by gods, and a jawline shadowed by the perfect amount of stubble.

A monster, no doubt. But a beautiful one.

Still, yesterday’s memory lingered like a sour taste. That damn maid thought she could seduce me. My bed is sacred. No one touches it—or me—without permission. I didn’t kill her; I wasn’t feeling particularly merciful. I just made sure she’d never look at anyone again.

Extreme? Maybe. But I’ve long stopped caring about right and wrong.

By the time I stepped into the meeting hall, the tension was palpable. My throne loomed at the head of the room, a symbol of authority no one dared to challenge. I didn’t greet the alphas or council members as I dropped into the seat. Pleasantries weren’t my style.

My eyes skimmed the agenda, irritation bubbling beneath my skin. “Why is the Rinderhale issue still unresolved?”

The room stilled. Eyes darted nervously, but no one spoke until one unfortunate man finally stood.

“Your Highness,” he stammered, “Alpha Ferd claims he’s been framed. He’s begging for one chance to prove his innocence—”

“Bring him to the city hall tomorrow,” I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to cut. “I’ll give him his chance. But if he fails, he dies.”

Silence followed. No one argued; they knew better.

The meeting dragged, my patience wearing thinner with every passing second. I hated this—the bureaucracy, the endless discussions. Justice delayed was justice denied. I made my rulings swiftly, not caring who squirmed under the weight of my decisions.

When the last case was settled, an elder had the audacity to speak.

“Your Highness,” he began carefully, “the extension period is coming to an end. The council requires you to take a queen.”

My jaw clenched. The words hit harder than I’d like to admit. I didn’t need a queen. I didn’t want one. The very idea of tying myself to someone again made my blood boil.

“I’ll handle it,” I bit out, pushing to my feet and storming from the room before anyone could press the issue.

John trailed after me like the persistent bastard he was, a folder in hand.

“You need to address this, Killian,” he said, his tone annoyingly smug.

I dropped into my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I said I’ll handle it.”

“Sure you will,” he replied, sliding the folder across the table. “But just in case, here’s a head start.”

I opened it reluctantly. Princesses. Dozens of them. Their glossy photos and saccharine descriptions made my stomach churn. Docile. Submissive. Caring.

Disgusted, I snapped the folder shut and threw it back at him.

“No.”

John raised an eyebrow. “No? What do you mean no? These are perfect candidates—”

“I don’t want perfect. I want someone insignificant. Someone no one will miss. Someone disposable.”

He blinked, staring at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re serious.”

“Deadly.”

“You’re insane.”

I smirked, lighting a cigarette and leaning back in my chair. “Maybe. But I don’t need a liability. I need someone I can control. Someone I can discard if necessary. This isn’t about love, John. It’s survival.”

He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he left the room.

I exhaled a plume of smoke, closing my eyes. The world could demand whatever it wanted—a queen, a Luna, a leash to tame me.

But I was Killian Black. The strongest wolf alive.

And love was a weakness I’d never allow myself again.