The Alpha's Forbidden Vow novel Chapter 113

POV: Ryker

I sat in the study of the discreet, private estate I had rented on the edge of the Volkov territory, a glass of expensive wine in my hand.

Perched on the back of my chair was a large, black raven, its intelligent eyes gleaming. It was one of my familiars, a creature of shadow and magic, my eyes and ears in a world of brutes.

Through its eyes, I had seen everything.

I had seen Zane’s pathetic, primal loss of control in the garden.

I had seen the raw, possessive way he had dragged Selene back into the manor.

I had seen the pain and defiance on her beautiful face.

A slow, satisfied smile touched my lips.

Everything was proceeding perfectly.

My subordinate, a lean, scarred wolf named Lucian, entered the room and bowed.

“Alpha Ryker,” he said. “We have a report. The rogues who were hunting the witch, Cora. Our sources confirm they were hired through a known broker for the Pure-Blood Council.”

“As I suspected,” I murmured, taking a slow sip of my wine. “They were trying to silence a loose end. The witch must have knowledge of their activities.”

This confirmed that the Council was making moves in the shadows, and that my proposed alliance with Zane and Selene was more necessary than ever.

But my thoughts were not on the Council.

They were on her.

Selene.

My initial plan had been purely strategic.

The Silvermoon bloodline was a legendary power, a key to overthrowing the Council and restoring the Laurent pack to its former glory. An alliance with her, and by extension the Volkov pack, was the most logical path to power.

But then I had met her.

She was not the timid, broken orphan my sister had described.

She was a queen in disguise, her spirit a core of unbendable steel, her dormant power a palpable, intoxicating hum in the air.

And I, a connoisseur of power, was deeply, irrevocably attracted.

I would be the gentle, supportive friend.

The shoulder to cry on.

The one who saw the queen, while her mate could only see the possession.

Zane, in his blind, possessive rage, would continue to push her away.

And I would be there to catch her when she fell.

“Lucian,” I said, turning to my subordinate.

“Yes, Alpha?”

“Send a message to Lady Lyra,” I commanded, a new, subtle strategy forming in my mind. “Offer her my full, unconditional support in ensuring Lady Selene’s well-being. Frame it as a gesture of peace. An apology for my sister’s past actions.”

It was the perfect move. It would position me as a gentleman, and it would give me a powerful ally inside the Volkov manor itself.

Zane would play the tyrant.

And I would play the savior.