Marked Twice by the Alpha King Chapter 76

**Ava's POV**

The tension in my shoulders eased as our carriage rolled into neutral territory. This patch of land belonged to no pack, where wolves from anywhere could meet without Alpha politics mucking things up. Back in training days, I'd competed here before I was "traitor's daughter"—just a kid with decent fighting skills and something to prove.

Our ride stopped outside Moonlight Arena, one of the oldest warrior gathering spots in the neutral zone. When Tyler opened the door, I shot Sophia a confused look.

"A fighting arena?" Last place I'd expect Miss Designer Clothes to pick.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Wanted to catch tonight's matches. Heard some northern wolves are competing—their style's completely different from ours."

My eyebrow shot up. Sophia Morgan, interested in combat techniques? Seeing my surprise, she laughed.

"What, thought I only shopped for pretty dresses?"

"Honestly? Yeah," I admitted, following her out.

Weirdly, Tyler stayed put, just mentioned he'd wait for us. But I clocked Blake's two Gamma guards slipping out of their carriage, trailing us with practiced casualness. They wore civilian clothes trying to blend in, but their posture screamed "ready to attack." Not to mention their hyper-alert eyes, scanning for threats even in neutral territory.

"Your dad's watchdogs are still on us," I muttered to Sophia. "Just keeping their distance."

She sighed. "Figures. Welcome to my life—trapped in an invisible cage." For a split second, I caught a glimpse of loneliness in her eyes that mirrored my own. Maybe being an Alpha's daughter wasn't the golden ticket I'd imagined.

Moonlight Arena was more packed than I remembered. Hundreds of wolves crammed the curved stands, surrounding the central fighting platform. The air reeked of sweat, excitement, blood, and the distinct spices from different pack territories. Music, howls, and applause created a wall of noise that hit you like a physical thing.

I glanced at Sophia, expecting her to cringe at the rowdy atmosphere. Instead, her eyes lit up—she looked more relaxed, more alive than I'd ever seen her.

"Nobody ever wants to bring me to these places," she shouted over the noise. "Too 'unbecoming' for an Alpha's daughter."

We pushed through the crowd, hunting for a decent view. Sophia navigated the chaos with surprising ease, leading us away from the most crowded sections toward a slightly elevated spot.

"You come here a lot?" I asked.

Her smile turned secretive. "Sneak out sometimes. Tyler used to cover for me until Dad found out."

Well, damn. Princess had some rebellion in her after all.

Just as we nearly reached our destination, a group of wolves in Shadow Creek colors blocked our path. My muscles instantly coiled tight, combat-ready.

"Look who it is," sneered a tall male wolf I recognized as Brock, one of Jackson's lackeys. "Rivers the traitor's little girl."

My blood heated, but I forced myself to stay cool. Starting shit in neutral territory could get you banned—or worse.

"Move aside," I said evenly. "We're just here for the fights."

"What gives you the right to stand here?" A female wolf joined in, her eyes crawling over me with disgust. "Your father's betrayal got my cousin killed in battle."

My heart hammered, rage boiling under my skin. Dad never betrayed anyone, but I had no proof to shut these assholes up. "Not looking for trouble," I managed through clenched teeth.

"Too bad it found you," Brock stepped forward, deliberately bumping my shoulder. His scent screamed challenge. "Traitor's blood should walk with eyes down, not watching matches like nothing happened."

People started gathering, smelling potential conflict. Some recognized me, whispers spreading through the crowd. My wolf snarled inside me, but I knew better than to throw down here—I'd not only get myself hurt but trash the chance Blake had given me.

Just as things were about to snap, Sophia glided in front of me, her entire presence transforming. Straight spine, lifted chin, and a bone-deep authority that radiated from her. Suddenly, she wasn't just some rich girl—she was Alpha blood made flesh.

"Is there a problem?" Her voice wasn't loud, but each word carried an undeniable weight.

Brock and his friends hadn't recognized her, still wearing their mocking smiles. "None of your business, beautiful. Unless you want to get kicked out with traitor-girl here."

I watched Sophia's eyes flash icy blue, Alpha energy pulsing from her in subtle waves—just like her father's when pissed, only younger and less controlled.

"Do you know who you're speaking to?" she asked, her voice dropping dangerously low.

The crowd backed up, feeling the suddenly heavy air. Brock's smirk faltered as realization dawned that this wasn't just some random rich girl.

"I'm Sophia Morgan, daughter of Blake Morgan, Alpha of Silverpeak," she declared, each word landing like a hammer blow. "And this is my friend, under the protection of the Alpha King himself."

The Shadow Creek wolves went pale, their postures shifting from aggressive to terrified. Picking on a traitor's daughter was one thing, but insulting the Alpha King's daughter? Practically suicide.

"Miss Morgan... we didn't know..." Brock stammered, horror washing over his face.

"Clearly," Sophia replied coldly. "You not only tried to start trouble in neutral territory, but you insulted a guest welcomed by my family. Is this Shadow Creek's idea of hospitality?"

They exchanged panicked looks. If the Alpha King took offense with Shadow Creek over this, the consequences would be brutal—especially when their pack desperately needed powerful allies.

"A misunderstanding, Miss Morgan," the female wolf rushed to explain. "No offense intended."

"Then apologize," Sophia's voice left zero room for argument. "Now. To my friend."

They practically fell over themselves bowing. "Sorry, Miss Rivers," they mumbled, barely audible over the arena noise.

Sophia nodded, satisfied. "Now, we'd like to watch the matches. Unless you object?"

They scrambled to clear a path, even giving up their prime viewing spots. As I followed Sophia past them, I felt their stares—no longer contemptuous, but a weird mix of fear, respect, and confusion at my apparent rise in status.

Once seated in our new spots, I whispered to Sophia: "Thanks for sticking up for me."

Sophia shook her head. "Don't mention it." Her eyes met mine with genuine fire. "The way they treated you pissed me off."

I studied her profile, realizing her anger wasn't put on. Not some obligation or duty, but real emotion.

"I'm used to it," I admitted. "Happens all the time since Dad got locked up."

"It's not right," she said, sympathy in her eyes. "You shouldn't pay for someone else's actions. And honestly, I'm starting to doubt your father did what they claim."

That hit me like a sucker punch. I stared at her, stunned. "What do you mean?"

But she didn't get to explain—the match in the center ring finished, and the crowd erupted in thunderous cheers. The announcer bellowed about the next fight, pulling everyone's attention back to the action.

"Later," she whispered close to my ear. "Let's watch now."