Chosen By The Cursed Alpha King Chapter 29

The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on.

Every Alpha sat rigid around the long oak table, their gazes darting, their postures deceptively still, but I could hear the truth beneath the surface. Their hearts drummed in uneven rhythms. Their wolves whispered restlessly inside them, tails tucked, ears flattened, every instinct screaming at them to tread carefully.

And I sat at the head, watching.

My hands rested loosely on the arms of my chair, but my stillness was a mask. Beneath it, my beast prowled. Every flicker of movement, every shift of breath, every scent of fear—they all scraped across my nerves like claws on stone.

The air carried tension and the faint musk of dominance, layered with undertones of sweat. Wolves did not lie, not in scent, not in presence. And I could smell every crack in their armor.

Especially his.

My gaze lingered on Alpha Gregor.

The bastard.

He sat across from me, broad-shouldered, gray streaks cutting through his black beard, eyes sharp as broken glass. The others saw authority, experience, and a strong Alpha. I saw rot. I saw the man who had handed Emilia over like she was nothing more than spare cattle to be bartered. Trash.

Every time my eyes cut to him, my beast surged, snarling at the back of my throat, urging me to break the table in half and show him exactly what kind of king he sat before.

Not yet.

I leaned back in my chair, let the silence stretch, let the unease build. Wolves grew impatient with silence; their instincts pushed them to fill it, to posture, to prove strength. That was when they made mistakes.

Finally, I let my voice roll out, low and cutting.

"Rogues have been attacking packs and borders."

My words fell like iron into water. The room stiffened, wolves shifting in their seats.

I let my gaze sweep the table, slow and deliberate, catching every flicker of eye contact, every nervous swallow. "Tell me," I continued, each word edged with ice, "what are you doing to make sure it stops?"

The silence that followed was brittle, sharp. No one moved at first. No one wanted to be the first to speak, the first to risk my displeasure.

Good. Let them squirm.

Finally, Alpha Green cleared her throat.

She was young—too young by most standards to wear an Alpha's title, but she carried herself with quiet steel. Her golden hair was tied back in a tight braid, her green eyes steady even as her pulse quickened.

"We've increased patrols across the borders," she said carefully, her voice firm but respectful. "Every warrior is training harder. We're preparing for any breach before it happens."

My eyes narrowed, searching her. No tremor of deceit in her words, no stench of cowardice. She believed what she said.

I gave her a slow nod. Just enough acknowledgment to loosen the coil of fear in her shoulders.

Then my gaze shifted.

"Gregor."

His name came out like a blade sliding free of its sheath.

He straightened slightly, his jaw tightening before he spoke.

"We've done the same," he said, his tone clipped, businesslike. "Increased security at the borders. Added surveillance. Cameras to cover the blind spots."

I didn't answer.

I just stared at him.

Watched the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Watched the way his fingers twitched once against the table, then went still again.

He was saying all the right things. He was doing all the right things.

But he was Emilia's father.

And I didn't like him.

The silence thickened again, pressing in like a storm cloud. The other Alphas shifted uneasily, their eyes darting between Gregor and me. No one dared break it.

Until someone did.

Alpha Jack.

Arrogant bastard.

He leaned back in his chair, one arm slung carelessly over the rest, a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. His scent carried no fear, only bravado and cheap amusement.

"You know, Your Majesty," he drawled, his tone mocking, "maybe all of this wouldn't be happening if you weren't so busy trying to get laid—and actually did your job as king."

The words slammed into the room like a thunderclap.

Every wolf stiffened. Eyes widened, some in shock, some in horror. A few darted immediately to me, waiting for the explosion they knew was coming.

Because there would be one.

My beast surged up with a roar, so sudden, so violent, I nearly snapped the arms of the chair beneath my hands. The scent of fear spiked across the table, sharp and pungent, except for Jack—Jack, who still smirked, though his heartbeat betrayed him, quickening just slightly.

The chains I'd worn last night might as well have been around my wrists again, because that was what it took not to tear him limb from limb. My vision tinged red, my claws slicing out before I could stop them, digging crescents into the polished wood of the table.

Every instinct screamed to let go.

Paint the room red.

Show them what it meant to insult their king.

One breath. Two. My fangs cut my lip when I spoke.

"Careful," I said, my voice a guttural rasp, not entirely my own. "You tread on the edge of death."

He didn't flinch. But the silence that followed carried the weight of every other Alpha's fear. None of them breathed too loudly. None of them dared to move.

I was seconds away.

Seconds from losing the tight grip on my control, from letting the beast off its leash.

And then—clarity struck.

I knew exactly what would stop me.

Exactly what would put an end to this dangerous spiral before blood slicked the floor.

I reached through the mind link to Lucien, cold and sharp.

"Bring the girl. In here. Now."