Suspicions

Don

Why the hell is it always me? Why is it that I always suffer because of this damned princess? I should have minded my own business and let the preppy beta of the Crescent believe whatever he wanted to believe. But it hurt my pride to be associated with the one woman I hate—the one I would do anything to see suffer, to take away her happiness.

So before I knew it, I spoke. Most of the words weren't really mine; I was, after all, a puppet. Maria had been well aware that the Crescent's beta would oppose the alliance, so she made me memorize and say those words. On the day of departure, they were drilled into my head.

By the Lucian Pack's alpha, the princess of the North is no longer one of us but a princess belonging to the South.

The rest? That was mine. I deliberately added those parts to elicit a reaction from the preppy beta, to confirm my suspicions that they were more than they let on.

I had seen them. The day of our arrival, after the princess disappeared into the woods, I followed her. It was my job to tail her every move and report back if she shifted and revealed the color of her fur. But instead, I stumbled upon them. Kissing.

I couldn't believe my eyes. The prince of the South, voluntarily kissing the princess of the North. This could only mean one thing: either he was a fool, or I had stumbled upon something far more interesting. They were mates.

So today, while in danger, I deliberately brought the princess close to me, and carried her around like she was helpless. I did it because I sensed him. I felt his eyes on us.

At first, I was sure I felt his anger, his jealousy—it was palpable, thick enough to cut with my sword. My heart was elated. Jackpot. But then it vanished, leaving nothing but an unreadable void. His expression betrayed nothing.

I moved to the next phase of my torment, goading him by telling him to "take care of his woman." This too was deliberate, but he didn't react. Not to that, at least. Instead, he snapped when I said she was one of theirs, no longer ours.

Before I knew it, He was on me.

The first punch came out of nowhere, a brutal force that sent me crashing against a tree. My vision blurred from the impact, pain shooting up my spine, but Sebastián wasn't done.

His eyes were bloodshot, glowing with unrestrained rage, as he closed the distance between us. His fists connected with my ribs—one, two, three sharp blows. I could feel them cracking, the sound sickening in my ears.

"She will never be one of us!" he roared, his voice thick with venom. "Whatever Lucian is planning is going to fail. I loathe her, and someone I hate will never become part of my pack!"

I was not bothered by those words or his punches. They were nothing to me but still...

I didn't fight back. I couldn't. If I did, they would know too soon about the monster I've become. The dark magic coursing through my veins, the dangerous weapon Maria created behind Lucian's back—it wasn't ready to be revealed. If Sebastián saw what I truly was, if word reached his alpha, it would mean trouble. Not just for me, but for my siblings.

Maria had made it clear: no exposure, no slip-ups. Even if it meant I had to let Sebastián kill me here, I would endure. The stakes were too high.

Still, the fury boiled inside me. If it weren't for Maria's orders, I could have ended him in seconds.

Luckily, he let go.

He stood over me, breathing hard, his fists clenched. Then, as if responding to some internal call, he stepped back. "This is not over," he spat before storming off, leaving me gasping against the tree.

I barely noticed the princess until her voice broke through my haze.

"Are you alright?" she asked, her tone laced with concern. I ignored her.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I checked the message. The diplomats were leaving and wanted to say goodbye to her.

I forced myself upright, pain radiating through my chest. "The diplomats are leaving, and they would like to see you," I managed, my voice strained.

She hesitated, her gaze lingering on me. "Oh, but are you alright?" she repeated, taking a step closer.

I ignored her and pushed myself to my feet. Every movement was agony, but I wouldn't show weakness. Not to her.

She hurried to my side, her expression torn between confusion and guilt. "Thank you again. And I'm sorry you got hurt because of me," she said, extending her hand as if to help.

I glared at it, loathing her fake kindness. "No need. It's my duty," I snapped, brushing past her. Every step was a battle against the pain, but I didn't slow down. The further I got from her, the better.