Chapter 5

Dorian pov.

I clenched my jaw as Tiberius vanished into the night, his words still hanging in the air like the stench of rotting flesh. My chest tightened with frustration. Freya. That name again. What the fuck did she have to do with this? And why the hell did Alaric look like he'd just been gut-punched?

I turned on my heel. "Double the patrols. Reinforce the outer perimeter. If even a shadow moves beyond that wall, I want it dead." My voice was cold, lethal.

The guards snapped to attention and scattered into action.

We marched back to the strategy hall, the air thick with tension. Inside, Seraphina, Selene, and Freya were still there. Freya looked like she might collapse at any second, barely holding herself up. For a moment, I noticed it—that frail, pathetic image of someone who'd already lost—but I smothered whatever instinct made me care. I wasn't in the mood for useless emotions, least of all sympathy.

Maximilian barely spared the women a glance before growling, "Get out."

Seraphina's eyes flashed with irritation, but she wisely said nothing. Alaric only nodded. Freya, however, looked relieved, already half-turning to leave.

I grabbed her wrist before she could take another step.

"You stay," I said darkly.

Her golden eyes widened, pain flashing through them. I saw it—the fear, the exhaustion—but it didn't matter. She was weak. And weakness had no place here.

"She knows nothing," Alaric interjected, his voice sharp. "She doesn't need to be here. In fact, it's better if she isn't."

Freya's spine stiffened at that. She turned, her gaze locking onto her father with something close to defiance. "If it involves me father, I have the right to know."

Alaric's expression twisted in fury. The next second, his palm connected with her face in a brutal slap.

The room went dead silent.

Freya staggered back, but I caught her before she hit the ground. Her breath came in sharp, pained gasps, and for a fleeting moment, I wanted to rip Alaric apart for putting his hands on her. I hated watching a woman break—especially like this. I had other ways of making them kneel.

Alaric exhaled sharply. "I told you never to call me that. Get out of my sight." His voice was venomous, his eyes filled with disgust.

Freya barely held herself up. Before I could react, Theon stepped forward. "I'll take her back," he said, voice tight with restraint. He didn't wait for permission. He simply grabbed her arm gently and led her out of the room.

Interesting.

I watched them go, then turned back to Alaric, my patience completely spent. Maximilian sat down at the head of the table, pouring himself a drink. "Start talking," he ordered. "While your head is still attached to your body."

Alaric hesitated, his hands balling into fists. "This is… a disgrace to my bloodline," he admitted, voice bitter. "I never spoke of it because I tried to fix it myself."

I leaned forward. "And how's that going for you?"

His eyes flashed to me, filled with barely restrained anger. "Freya isn't my daughter," he finally said, his voice hollow. "Demetra, my chosen mate, carried her—but she was not mine. Lucius forced himself on her, and she bore his child."

The room dropped into stunned silence.

I sat back, gripping the armrests of my chair so hard they threatened to snap. "Lucius?" The name was foreign on my tongue, yet something about it coiled tightly in my chest. "That bastard's blood runs through her veins?"

Alaric's mouth twisted into a snarl. "Yes. And tomorrow, when she turns eighteen, we'll know where she belongs—whether she is one of us, or one of them

My jaw tightened. "And if she's one of them?"

Alaric met my gaze without hesitation. "Then she dies."

I exhaled slowly, running my tongue along my teeth. Something in my gut twisted, but I didn't acknowledge it. I wouldn't.

My mind was still reeling from Alaric's confession. Freya. Not his daughter. A half-blood. A fucking abomination in his eyes.

And now, in mine too.

It was almost amusing, really. The little servant girl, the one who flinched under every glare, who barely managed to keep her head down without stumbling, was suddenly the most valuable—or most dangerous—piece on the board. What a joke.

Maximilian poured himself another drink. "So let me get this straight," he said lazily, though there was nothing lazy about the way his eyes gleamed. "You've been hiding this little scandal from me for what—eighteen years?"

Alaric's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "I handled it."

I scoffed. "You handled it?" I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Yeah, that's why Tiberius is breathing down our fucking necks demanding her. Great fucking job, Alaric."

His eyes snapped to me, fury flashing behind them, but I didn't give a damn. He had played this game poorly, and now we were all paying for it.

Maximilian swirled his whiskey. "Tell me, what exactly do the hunters want with her?"

Alaric hesitated. A flicker of something unreadable crossed his face.

I slammed my fist against the table. "You already fucked up by hiding this. If you keep dodging answers, I will personally make sure you regret it."

A muscle in his jaw jumped. "Freya… she's a key."

Silence.

I narrowed my eyes. "A key to what?"

Alaric swallowed. "Lucius had a plan. A contingency, if you will. If the hunters ever lost control of the war, they needed something—someone—to tip the scales. Freya's existence was meant to be that weapon."

I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head. "You're telling me she's some kind of… fucking doomsday switch?"

Alaric exhaled sharply. "No. I don't know what she is. I only know that if she is one of them, she will lead them."

A slow, cold realization settled over me. If she wasn't one of us… she wasn't just some stray bloodline mistake. She was meant to be the next leader of the fucking hunters.

Maximilian tapped his fingers against his glass. "Well. That's quite the predicament."

I leaned back in my chair, expression unreadable. "Shame," I murmured, my tone devoid of anything but indifference. "She would've been an entertaining distraction. But if it comes down to it, she dies."

Maximilian's gaze sharpened, but he said nothing.

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the floor. My muscles tensed, my wolf restless beneath my skin. The Beast inside me barely stirred, unimpressed. I wasn't the type to fall for sentimental weakness, and it sure as hell wasn't going to start with her.

"She's a problem," I said coolly. "And problems need to be eliminated."

Maximilian exhaled. "Tomorrow will be interesting."

I smirked, already walking away. "If she makes it that far."