Chapter 4 - The King Discovered His Wife Had Been Drugged for Five YearsGuthrie Cross had ordered armies into battle without feeling fear.
He had negotiated with rival Alphas who could tear a man's throat open in seconds.
He had survived three assassination attempts and buried his father beneath a royal banner.
But nothing had prepared him for the words Dr. Lillian Mercer whispered inside his private office.
"Your wife's medication wasn't prescribed to treat infertility, Your Majesty."
Guthrie stood perfectly still.
Mercer lowered her eyes.
"It was designed to maintain it."
For a moment, the city beyond the windows seemed impossibly distant.
"Explain."
The physician's hands trembled.
"Mrs. Cross possesses an inherited biological marker associated with the original Warden bloodline. The Council classified her as a security risk before your marriage."
Guthrie stared.
"Celeste is an Omega."
"Yes."
"She has never shifted."
"Because the inhibitors prevented her wolf from emerging."
He took one step toward her.
"Are you telling me that my wife has been deliberately drugged for five years?"
Mercer's silence was answer enough.
Guthrie felt something brutal rise inside his chest.
Every memory of Celeste in the fertility clinic returned at once.
Her pale face after another failed treatment.
The way she'd apologize for disappointing him.
The nights she'd curled against him, quietly asking whether he would eventually regret choosing her.
He'd always assured her that children didn't matter.
He'd meant it when he said it.
Or at least he'd believed he had.
Yet when Veronica announced her pregnancy, he'd allowed the Council to persuade him that the future of his kingdom demanded a legitimate Alpha heir.
He'd used that argument to justify bringing his mistress home.
Now he discovered that his wife's suffering had been manufactured by the very institution he ruled.
"Who authorized the treatment?"
"The Chancellor."
"Did he tell you why?"
"He said the Warden bloodline had become unstable."
"Did you believe him?"
Mercer swallowed.
"At first."
"And later?"
She began crying.
"Later, I understood what we were doing."
Guthrie's voice dropped.
"How many times did Celeste ask you why she couldn't become pregnant?"
Mercer couldn't look at him.
"Dozens."
"How many times did you tell her it was her fault?"
"I never used those words."
"You didn't have to."
He turned away before his anger overwhelmed his judgment.
On the desk lay a framed photograph of his wife.
It had been taken three summers earlier in Maine.
Celeste stood barefoot on a beach, laughing as the wind blew her hair across her face.
He remembered taking the photograph.
He remembered thinking that no crown, no territory, no political victory could compare to the happiness of seeing her smile that way.
When had he stopped trying to make her smile?
When had he begun treating her patience like an endless resource?
"Give me every original record," he said.
Mercer nodded quickly.
"Your Majesty, if the Chancellor discovers I've spoken—"
"You'll be placed under independent protection."
She hesitated.
"His influence extends into the royal guard."
"Then I'll use people outside the guard."
Guthrie picked up his phone.
"Captain Rook. Come to my office."
When Rook arrived, Guthrie gave him two instructions.
"Protect Dr. Mercer. No Council personnel are to approach her."
"Yes, sir."
"And investigate every royal security order issued without my personal authorization over the last forty-eight hours."
Rook frowned.
"Is there a concern?"
Guthrie looked at him.
"My wife vanished from a building we were supposed to control. The Chancellor knew before I informed him. And a physician has just admitted to falsifying medical records on his orders."
Rook's face hardened.
Guthrie continued.
"Somebody inside my government has been running operations behind my back."
He glanced at Celeste's photograph.
"And I intend to find out how long."
At Blackwater Sanctuary, Celeste sat in a wooden chair with a blanket around her shoulders.
The silver crescent on her wrist had faded to a faint outline.
Her body felt exhausted.
Dr. Chen had examined her after the strange awakening.
Her vital signs were stable, but her blood pressure had briefly dropped.
The doctor insisted she rest.
Rowan agreed.
Celeste did not.
"I need to understand what happened," she said.
Rowan knelt beside the fireplace and placed another log on the flames.
"Your wolf reached the surface."
"I heard her."
"That's normal during the first awakening."
"She spoke English."
Rowan glanced at her.
"That part is less normal."
Celeste gave a tired smile.
It disappeared quickly.
"When the bell rang, did I make it happen?"
"Probably."
"How?"
"The First Voice is connected to the founding Covenant. Its bell was cast to recognize a Warden's awakening. According to the archives, it hasn't rung on its own in nineteen years."
"Since my mother died."
"Yes."
Celeste stared into the fire.
"Does that mean everybody knows?"
"Not everybody. The bell is in a restricted chamber. But Voss will know."
She thought about the death order Rowan had received.
"Then we shouldn't stay here."
Rowan looked toward her.
"Blackwater has defenses."
"So did my mother's house."
He didn't answer.
Celeste leaned forward.
"There's a difference between protecting me and protecting everyone living here. I won't let children become targets because of my bloodline."
Rowan regarded her for a long moment.
"Then help me decide what to do."
She blinked.
"You want my opinion?"
"It's your sanctuary."
"I've only been here a day."
"And you've already identified its greatest vulnerability."
He pulled a property map from a drawer.
For the next hour, they studied the estate.
Celeste's father had designed several of its buildings.
She recognized his style immediately.
Service tunnels.
Hidden drainage channels.
A secondary access road marked as an abandoned logging path.
Her pulse quickened when she noticed a narrow passage connecting the farmhouse basement to an old waterworks building.
"Does this still exist?"
Rowan leaned closer.
"I think so."
"My father used to call these escape corridors. He designed them for buildings where emergency exits might become inaccessible."
Rowan studied the map.
"The survey didn't show it."
"Because it was built into the original foundation."
She pointed toward a small mark in the drawing.
"See this? It's his personal notation for an independent mechanical entrance."
Rowan looked at her with growing respect.
"Can you find it?"
Celeste stood.
"Give me a flashlight."
At 8:12 p.m., three black SUVs turned onto the mountain road leading toward Blackwater.
Their windows were tinted.
Their license plates belonged to a private security company registered in Delaware.
Inside the first vehicle, a scarred Alpha named Mason Kreel checked his weapon.
A message appeared on his phone.
SUBJECT: CELESTE CROSS. RECOVER IMMEDIATELY.
Below it was a second instruction.
NO SURVIVING WITNESSES TO UNAUTHORIZED OPERATION.
Kreel read it without reacting.
He had performed work for the Chancellor before.
Most assignments involved intimidating political opponents or transporting prisoners.
This one was different.
An entire sanctuary.
Families.
Children.
He looked toward the driver.
"Keep the engines running."
The convoy approached the outer gate.
Then all three vehicles stopped.
A fallen tree blocked the road.
Kreel frowned.
"That wasn't on the satellite survey."
The driver turned on the headlights.
Something moved beyond the branches.
A woman stepped into view.
Celeste Cross.
She wore jeans, a dark jacket, and her hair tied back.
Kreel smiled.
"Well, that makes things easier."
He climbed from the SUV.
"Your Majesty."
Celeste remained where she stood.
"Who sent you?"
"We've been instructed to escort you home."
"By my husband?"
Kreel hesitated.
"By the royal administration."
"That's not the same thing."
He took another step.
"Please don't make this difficult."
Celeste looked at the men emerging behind him.
Six armed wolves.
All carrying the Chancellor's black authorization crest.
She remembered Rowan's warning.
The First Voice couldn't force obedience to an arbitrary order.
It could only interrupt violations of sworn obligations.
"Are you members of the Crown Guard?" she asked.
Kreel frowned.
"Formerly."
"Then you took the Crown Oath."
"That was years ago."
"Did you formally renounce it?"
He hesitated.
Celeste saw the answer.
"No."
The Crown Oath required every sworn guardian to protect civilians under the Covenant.
Even after leaving active service, its obligations remained until formally discharged.
She raised her chin.
"Are there children behind that gate?"
Kreel's smile vanished.
"Step aside."
"Answer me."
His hand moved toward his weapon.
Something inside Celeste awakened.
Not with the violent force she expected.
It felt like standing beneath a vast sky and realizing she had always belonged there.
The silver crescent flashed on her wrist.
Her voice emerged low and clear.
"Remember your oath."
Kreel froze.
So did the men behind him.
For one heartbeat, the forest seemed to stop moving.
A silver shimmer passed through the air.
Kreel's fingers locked around his weapon.
Then his knees struck the wet road.
He gasped.
Celeste stumbled backward.
Pain stabbed behind her eyes.
Rowan appeared from the trees and caught her before she fell.
"That's enough," he whispered.
Celeste struggled to remain conscious.
"I didn't hurt them."
"No."
Rowan looked toward the kneeling men.
"You reminded them what they promised."
The effect lasted only seconds.
But it was enough.
Floodlights illuminated the road.
More than twenty sanctuary guards appeared along the hillside.
Behind them, Thomas stood with a camera broadcasting to an independent security archive.
He called out, "Your vehicles, faces, and weapons are being recorded. State authorities have been notified about armed trespassers."
Kreel looked around.
He knew the operation had failed.
If he attacked now, there would be witnesses, evidence, and casualties that could be traced directly to the Chancellor.
He backed toward the SUV.
"This isn't over."
Celeste looked at him.
"No," she said.
"It isn't."
The convoy reversed down the mountain road.
Only when the engines disappeared did Celeste allow her knees to buckle.
Rowan caught her.
"Easy."
"I'm fine."
"You're shaking."
"I know."
He helped her sit on a fallen log.
She pressed a hand to her stomach.
For one terrifying moment, fear overtook everything else.
"My babies."
Rowan crouched beside her.
"We're taking you to Dr. Chen."
Celeste looked at him.
"You knew I'd be able to stop them?"
"No."
"Then why let me stand there?"
"Because you had a plan. And because you made me promise I wouldn't treat you like a prisoner."
His honesty struck her.
He added quietly, "I was terrified."
Celeste searched his face.
"Of what?"
"Of losing you before you ever had a chance to decide who you wanted to be."
She looked away first.
Nobody had spoken to her like that in years.
In Manhattan, Veronica stood before the master bedroom mirror.
The panther necklace gleamed against her throat.
She had spent the afternoon selecting furnishings for the nursery.
A designer had already sent samples of cream-colored wallpaper and imported Italian furniture.
Everything was unfolding almost exactly as her father had promised.
She would carry the Alpha King's heir.
She would become the recognized royal consort.
Celeste would eventually accept a generous settlement and disappear.
Yet Guthrie hadn't come home for dinner.
He'd barely spoken to Veronica since morning.
And the Council had suddenly begun requesting strange information about the necklace.
Her phone rang.
Malcolm St. James.
"Dad?"
"Have you kept the jewelry on?"
Veronica frowned.
"Yes."
"Don't remove it."
"Why?"
"Because the Chancellor needs the seal intact until tomorrow."
She looked at her reflection.
"What seal?"
A pause.
"The clasp."
Veronica turned the necklace around.
For the first time, she noticed a narrow groove beneath the Cartier engraving.
She pressed it with her fingernail.
A tiny silver plate shifted.
Underneath lay a crescent surrounding a black wolf.
"What's this?"
Her father's voice became sharp.
"Close it."
"Why?"
"Veronica."
She flinched.
"Don't ask questions you don't need answered."
The call ended.
Veronica stood motionless.
She had known the arrangement was political.
Her relationship with Guthrie had begun during a shipping merger where both their families stood to gain millions.
She'd believed the pregnancy had given her an opportunity neither family could ignore.
But now she was beginning to wonder whether she had become part of something considerably more dangerous.
A message arrived from Chancellor Voss.
Tomorrow's recognition ceremony has been moved forward. Attend at 7:00 a.m. Wear the necklace. Do not tell His Majesty until he returns.
Veronica read it twice.
Then another message appeared.
Celeste Cross is being handled.
For the first time since entering the penthouse, Veronica felt afraid.
At 10:47 p.m., Guthrie received news of the failed operation near Blackwater.
He stared at the photographs.
Three damaged SUVs.
A blocked mountain road.
An armed recovery team operating under a Council authorization.
And one blurred image of Celeste standing in front of the vehicles.
His wife's face was pale.
Her body looked smaller than he remembered.
Yet she stood with her shoulders straight, confronting men who outweighed her by hundreds of pounds combined.
Guthrie enlarged the image.
There was a silver flash around her wrist.
His breath caught.
"Where did this happen?"
"Blackwater Sanctuary," Captain Rook answered.
"Who authorized the mission?"
"Chancellor Voss."
Guthrie went very still.
"To recover my wife?"
"Yes, sir."
"With armed men?"
"Yes."
"What were their orders?"
Rook hesitated.
"We intercepted one message."
He handed Guthrie the screen.
NO SURVIVING WITNESSES.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Guthrie removed the royal signet ring from his finger and placed it on the desk.
Rook stiffened.
"Your Majesty?"
"Call every regional Alpha who remains loyal to the Crown rather than the Chancellor."
"Sir, that could trigger a constitutional crisis."
Guthrie looked at Celeste's photograph.
The woman he'd called weak had stood alone against an armed recovery team.
The man who'd promised to protect her had spent the previous night allowing another woman to take her place.
"Good," he said.
"Maybe a crisis is exactly what this kingdom needs."
May you like
And in the royal Council chamber, the Chancellor prepared a ceremony that would officially erase Celeste Cross from the succession records.
He had no intention of waiting for the Alpha King to approve it.
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