Page 196 of Moonlit Fate

I stepped out from the darkness, keeping my face calm.

Theon’s face had turned ghost-white.

I stepped forward, Theon’s wide eyes locked on mine.

“Atticus, will you judge or show mercy?” Caius asked.

I knew the game, the trap set within each choice. Mercy wasn’t weakness in the real world, but here, it was suicide.

“Judgment,” I said.

A collective intake of breath rippled through the hall. Shadows gathered at my call, tendrils of darkness that slithered and twisted around my arms like living things. The crowd gasped, their unease tangible in the charged air.

“Do as I say and your life might be spared,” I whispered inside Theon’s mind as my shadows lunged for his throat. Confusion clouded his features as he staggered. I kicked the back of his knees, causing his legs to buckle and sending him crashing to the hard floor.

“Scream,” I told him telepathically.

He was still silent, looking up at me with pleading eyes.

“Scream,“ I commanded, my mental voice cracking like a whip.

Understanding crossed the stricken man’s face, and he screamed, the raw, desperate sound reverberating through the hall.

“Make it look like you’re choking, do it now.”With a flick of my hand, the shadows obediently wrapped themselves around his throat and chest, but they didn’t tighten their hold.

Putting on a show necessary to save us both, he thrashed across the floor, clawing at his throat as if in a desperate strugglefor breath. When the room was sufficiently filled with murmurs and whispers, and the joyful atmosphere turned into one of fear, I let the shadows recede.

“Enough,” I declared, my words echoing off the stone walls.

Theon’s chest heaved as he appeared to desperately gulp down the precious air, a fleeting moment of relief etching across his face. It was short-lived. Caius flicked his wrist and his shadows coiled around Theon’s neck. A sickening crunch followed, and he dropped to the side.

“Get the trash out of here,” Caius snapped, then turned to Valora. “Did you enjoy the show my son put on for you, my dear?”

Valora’s face momentarily tensed up, a brief flash of uncertainty crossing her features, before she turned to my father with a blank smile. “Yes, he is quite powerful.”

Caius watched me intently. “You two should take to the floor. Celebrate your engagement.”

He clapped his hands, gaining the attention of the room. “Crimson Fang, may I introduce your future alpha, Atticus Thorne, and his intended Valora.”

The pack applauded and watched on expectantly. I had no other option but to continue this charade until I could finally bring it to an end. I gave my father a stiff bow and offered a hand to Valora.

The music swelled, a haunting melody that seemed to mock the gravity of what had been announced. Valora took my hand and stepped onto the dance floor, her other hand resting on my arm with an ease that felt out of place. I led the dance mechanically, each step leaden.

“Quite the performance earlier,” she said evenly.

“Performance,” I echoed, keeping my tone neutral. “Is that what this is to you?”

She beamed, though it was fake as hell. “Isn’t everything here a performance in one way or another?”

I couldn’t argue with that. Her calm and the way she moved through Caius’s grand designs without so much as a ripple of discontent irked me. I was a pawn in a game I despised, yet she floated along like she belonged in it.

“Your father has great plans for us,” she continued, her gaze locked on something distant, a dream perhaps only she could see. “For the Crimson Fang.”

“Plans,” I muttered. The word left a bitter taste in my mouth. “What do these plans mean for you, Valora?”

“Opportunity. Unity.” Her words were chosen with care, selected to stitch a narrative she must’ve rehearsed. “A chance to strengthen and lead our pack into a new era.”

“An era of your making?” I prodded, searching for a crack in her poised façade.

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