The Alpha's Regret: Return Of The Betrayed Luna

She made sure of it, every angle, every detail carefully considered, while her voice carried lightly, as if she were simply another eager presence in the crowd.

But beneath it all, anticipation coiled within her. She was already imagining the moment Addison realized the shift and saw her among the crowd, the moment recognition turned into unease.

And Zion...

Claire’s smile deepened, eyes gleaming faintly as she waited for their arrival, every part of her poised for what would come next.

But it seemed the Alpha King had caught up to her train of thought. His gaze snapped toward her, cold and absolute, and the weight of his aura followed, pressing down with quiet, merciless authority.

It wasn’t a strike, not even a word, yet it was enough. Bloodline suppression took hold instantly, draining the strength from Claire’s body as if it had been stripped away at its source.

Her breath hitched, her limbs weakened, and her knees trembled on the verge of giving out beneath her.

"Royal Brother, be kind to the young ones..."

Her father stepped in before she could dropped on her knees completely, placing himself between her and that suffocating presence. His voice was calm, measured, but carried just enough urgency.

"My daughter may be a little mischievous, but please, be magnanimous. Do not press her too harshly."

With him standing there, the pressure eased, loosening its invisible grip around her. Claire felt air return to her lungs, though her body still trembled faintly in the aftermath.

She lifted her gaze toward him, eyes shimmering, unshed tears clinging delicately to her lashes as she leaned into his protection, looking all fragile, subdued, and every bit the image of someone who had been pushed to her limit.

"Father, please... don’t quarrel with Royal Uncle, the Alpha King. I was the one who spoke out of turn."

Claire’s fingers tightened gently around her father’s sleeve, her voice soft, almost pleading, as if she were trying to pacify him. But beneath that display of meekness lay careful intent, she knew exactly how it would look, how it would sound.

By lowering herself, by taking the blame so readily, she only made her father’s indignation burn hotter. And just as she expected, the effect was immediate.

"Royal Brother," her father said, his tone strained with restraint, "my daughter has only just returned after enduring so much, and she has already been punished. Her body has yet to recover."

His jaw tightened, a faint tick betraying the anger he was barely holding back. "Do me this favor, do not hold this against the child."

"Ha." The Alpha King’s scoff cut through the tension as his gaze locked onto his brother, cold and unyielding.

In the next breath, his aura surged, heavy and oppressive, crashing down with enough force to demand submission. It wasn’t a request; it was a command woven into instinct.

Under that weight, his younger brother’s resistance faltered. Slowly, unwillingly, he lowered his head and bared his nape in a clear gesture of submission.

Even so, defiance flickered in the strain of his body, the tight clench of his jaw, the veins standing out along his neck, but it wasn’t enough. Against the Alpha King, he simply did not have the strength to stand his ground.

Around them, the gathered entourage watched in silence, their interest thinly veiled as the balance of power unfolded before their eyes.

"It is only because you are my brother," the Alpha King continued, his voice low and edged with restrained violence, "that I have spared your bastard daughter."

His gaze sharpened, something feral glinting beneath it. "For what she has done, daring to raise her hand against my heir, her head should already be rolling beneath the guillotine. Mercy is the only reason she still breathes."

Each word landed with deliberate weight, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

"So take this as my final concession," he went on, his tone turning colder still. "Rein her in. Teach her where she stands, and make certain she remembers it. If she dares to overreach again, if she schemes even once more, there will be no second chance. Not even if you offer your own life in exchange."

His eyes flickered gold, the presence of his wolf pressing close beneath the surface, their will perfectly aligned.

It was only through sheer restraint that he held himself back, keeping that instinct leashed. Because if he allowed it even a fraction of freedom, there would be no reasoning left, only the urge to tear out the throat of the man standing before him, brother or not, for daring to shield the one who had nearly cost his pup’s her life.

The Alpha King’s display was not driven by anger alone, though the thought of his brother’s illegitimate child daring to scheme against his daughter was more than enough to ignite it.

There was calculation behind it, too, a deliberate edge sharpened by what Addison had reported before her return. With her successful campaign against the demonic locusts and her reappearance before the court, the timing was too significant to ignore.

Authority, once left unasserted, invited doubt, and doubt, in a kingdom like his, was dangerous.

So he chose this moment carefully.

In front of the gathered nobles, beneath watchful eyes already heavy with quiet ambition, he made his example. If even his own brother could be forced to bow, to bare his nape in submission without hesitation, then what hope would anyone else have if they dared step out of line?

The message required no embellishment. It was clear, brutal in its simplicity: defiance would not be tolerated, and the consequences would not be merciful.

This was not merely punishment; it was a reminder.

Power had not diminished simply because it had gone untested for a time. The throne was not weakened by restraint, nor did silence imply surrender.

A lion might rest, might allow the illusion of peace to settle, but that did not grant lesser creatures the right to forget what it was capable of. And now, before all of them, the Alpha King made certain that no one would.

Now that his daughter had laid everything before him, matters even he had failed to notice, there was no excuse for inaction. Leaving the knots of the kingdom for her to untangle alone would only expose his own negligence, his failure as a ruler and a father.

He had been made aware, and that alone demanded a response. Fortunately, she had proven herself perceptive, sharp-minded, and far from the naïve girl he once felt compelled to shield. That realization brought him a measure of relief. When the time came to pass the throne, she would not be unprepared.

But acknowledgment was not abdication.

He would not place the crown on her head only to leave her buried beneath unresolved conflict. As long as he still stood, he would clear what he could, carve a path where she would not have to fight alone. And this, this assertion of authority, this reminder of who ruled, was only the beginning.

Because he was no fading wolf, no weakened king clinging to power out of habit. If it came to it, he was still more than capable of baring his fangs and tearing out a throat without hesitation.