The Alpha Who Wanted Me Dead

A War of Alphas

For the next few days, Marco found unexpected relief in Viola's absence.

She had stopped seeking him out, stopped cornering him after training, stopped circling him like a predator waiting for its prey to falter. It should have made him feel uneasy—Viola wasn't the type to accept defeat. But at the moment, he welcomed the silence.

Of course, it didn't last.

One morning, just as the sun began to rise, the sound of wheels crunching against dirt echoed through the training grounds. A carriage—black, polished, and unmistakably regal—rolled past the camp gates, flanked by a dozen mounted warriors in full armor. Even before the doors opened, Marco already knew who had come.

Alpha Oro.

Viola's father.

His father's strongest ally.

A hush fell over the camp as the carriage came to a stop. Marco stood at the training ring, rolling the tension out of his shoulders as he watched the warriors dismount with swift, disciplined movements. They weren't just bodyguards. They were soldiers—killers—each one carrying the distinct sigil of the Blackfang Pack across their chest plates.

Then, the door opened.

Alpha Oro stepped out, tall and broad-shouldered, his mere presence commanding the space around him. He was older than Marco's father but twice as lethal, with piercing green eyes that had lost all warmth decades ago.

Marco barely had time to brace himself before Oro's gaze locked onto him.

"Your father is dying."

The moment Marco heard the words, his mind should have gone to the pack. To the power shift. To the consequences of an Alpha's throne left vacant.

But it didn't.

All he could think about was Regina.

For the first time since he had been sent away, he could go home. The thought was selfish, he knew that. But deep in his chest, a fierce, possessive relief settled in. The time had finally come. He could set her free, claim her as his mate, and burn away the chains that had bound her for years.

"I need to go home then," Marco said without hesitation.

But Alpha Oro simply smirked. "Not so fast."

Marco's shoulders tensed as Alpha Oro gestured toward the camp trainer, who promptly led them toward one of the stone chambers reserved for high-ranking guests. The silence stretched as they walked, the weight of what Oro wanted hanging thick in the air.

Marco knew better than to expect an easy return. There was always a price.

Inside the chamber, the fire crackled against the stone walls, casting flickering shadows across the room. Oro made himself comfortable, lowering into a chair as if he owned the place.

"I've heard rumors," Oro began, pouring himself a drink. "That there's a little slave girl waiting for you back home."

The shift in Marco's posture was slight—but it was there. A muscle twitched in his jaw, his fingers curling into fists at his sides.

With controlled anger, he replied, "With all due respect, Alpha, that is none of your concern."

Oro exhaled, shaking his head like a man humored by a child. "Oh, but it is, boy. You see, your father and I—we had an agreement. And that agreement does not involve some lowborn girl crawling out of the dirt and into your bed."

Marco's fury ignited.

"You have no right to make demands of me," Marco said firmly.

Oro set down his cup with a slow, deliberate motion. He lifted his gaze, eyes sharp as a blade.

"Oh, I have every right, kid." His voice was like steel—cold and unwavering. "Your father and I made a pact years ago. You are to marry my daughter."

The air dropped and a heartbeat later, the door burst open.

"Father! You came!"

Viola.

She glided into the chamber, her silken dress sweeping the stone floors, her dark curls cascading down her back. She smirked like a spoiled child getting exactly what she wanted.

Oro turned, his expression softening in a way it never did for anyone else. "Of course, my princess," he murmured before turning his gaze back to Marco. "And I'm glad to meet your fiancé."

Marco barely concealed his disgust.

Fiancé?

He let out a sharp exhale, barely suppressing the rage boiling beneath his skin.

"This is ridiculous," Marco said, stepping forward. His voice was tight, controlled, but his blood roared in his ears. "I will not take your daughter as my wife."

The words hung in the air. Alpha Oro's response came in the form of a brutal slap.

Viola's smirk faltered for the briefest second before twisting into something mocking. She folded her arms, watching the exchange like it was entertainment.

The impact cracked through the air, sending Marco's head snapping to the side. A sharp sting bloomed across his cheek, a metallic taste flooding his mouth.

Viola's smirk returned, smug and pleased.

Marco stayed perfectly still.

Slowly, he lifted a hand, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and let the silence stretch.

Alpha Oro's voice was calm, almost amused. "If you want to keep the peace treaty, and if you want to protect your pack, you will marry my daughter."

Marco stared at him, searching for the slightest hesitation.

There was none.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, Marco sighed. The sound was soft, almost resigned, but his eyes held none of it. His gaze was sharp, calculated, filled with quiet defiance.

"I don't need your pack."

He turned and walked toward the door.

Not hurried. Not desperate. Just decisive.

Alpha Oro's voice followed him, "We'll see about that."

Behind him, Viola seethed.

She spun toward her father, frustration pouring out of her. "What now?!" she snapped, her nails digging into her arms.

Oro took a slow sip of his drink, utterly unbothered.

"Oh, he'll come back to you, darling." His voice was smooth, confident. "You just wait and see."