Page 31 of To Carve A Wolf

Her hand reached toward mine—hesitating, not quite touching. “You swore an oath. To lead. To keep your pack safe.”

And she was right. The oath burned behind my ribs likea brand. I was Alpha. My word wasn’t law—it was goddamn gospel. And a wolf who attacked my own within these walls, without mark or place or bond, was no better than a rogue.

Lexa had stepped over a line. And for that, there would be retribution.

The door groaned open like a grave disturbed. And then they brought her in. Gone was the filth of the docks, the stench of sea rot and desperation. They had scrubbed her clean, but not soft. Dressed her in deep forest green, a colour that clung to her like moss over stone. It didn’t make her look tamed.

It made her look dangerous.

Her hair was damp, hanging in ink-dark strands down her back, framing her pale face like the mourning veil of a goddess long since buried. Her hands were cuffed in black iron, runes etched into the steel—standard for feral rogues.

But she didn’t hang her head. She didn’t tremble or look away. She walked into my study like she owned the space. Like the firelight was hers. Like she’d walked through every circle of hell to get here and hadn’t bowed to a single one.

She didn’t look at Tanya. Not once. She looked at me. Eyes sharp, straw-coloured, glinting like glass right before it shatters. She looked like ruin barely contained by skin. Like defiance stitched together with scars. And still, even now, she was fucking beautiful.

Tanya’s voice slashed through the quiet like a poisoned blade.

“She cleans up decently,” she said, smug curling around every syllable. “Finally doesn’t smell like she fucked a fishmonger on a pile of rotting nets.”

Crack. I didn’t think. Didn’t breathe.

I crossed the room in a breath, boots hammering the stone, and stood in front of Lexa before the echo of Tanya’s cruelty had even faded.

Lexa didn’t flinch. Didn’t back away. But I could feel it in her.The coil of tension beneath the surface. The hum of barely-restrained instinct. Not fear. Never fear.

“I brought you into my walls,” I said, voice like razors dragging across stone. “Fed you. Gave your boy warmth and protection. I let you live under the roof of the pack you were too wild to deserve.”

Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t speak.

She didn’t have to. The fire in her eyes screamed every insult she refused to spit.

“And this is how you repay that?” My voice rose, sharp and vicious. “You maul an Omega. In my halls. In front of my guards. You stain what we protect.”

“She provoked me,” Lexa said. Her voice didn’t shake. If anything, it was colder than mine.

“She ispack,” I snarled. “She is anOmega. Sacred. Cherished. Obeyed. And you—” I stepped in, so close our breath collided, “—you are nothing but a stray bitch snapping at scraps that were never meant for you.”

Behind me, Tanya gave a delicate sigh, dripping with mock sorrow.

“Tell her, Alpha,” she cooed. “Tell her what happens to mutts who forget their place. You can’t polish filth.”

I leaned in, low, just enough to make sure no one else could hear but her.

“You will apologize,” I whispered, my voice sharp as teeth. “You will fall to your knees, not because I want it—but because you owe it. Now.”

She didn’t kneel. She stood there, cuffed, surrounded by guards and rage and blood, and still—she didn’t bend. I could feel every eye in the room locked on her. On me. Waiting.

Lexa raised her chin, her eyes burning—not with fear, but with something colder. Something unholy. And then she smiled.Not sweet. Not soft. A wolf’s smile. All teeth and defiance.

“No,” she said. One word. And it detonated in the center of my chest.

“I’m not apologizing. Not to you. Not to that knot-starved bitch in heat who thinks a little perfume and a warm cunt earns her a crown.”

Tanya choked on a gasp, hand flying to her chest. Her lip was still split, blood painting her teeth red. “She attacked me!” she shrieked. “You heard that—you saw what she did to me!”

But Lexa wasn’t done.

“I don’t owe either of you a godsdamned thing,” she spat, her voice sharp enough to cut flesh. “You fed me? Kept the boy from freezing?” She leaned forward in her chains, the iron biting as they clinked with the motion. “Don’t confuse basic survival with mercy. You didn’t save us. You caged us.”

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