"Grab her," Brandon ordered, gesturing sharply at the two security guards. "Throw the pup on the street and lock her in the holding room until I decide what to do with her."
The guards in dark suits stepped off the curb, their hands reaching for the heavy batons on their belts.
I shoved Leo behind my legs. "Take one more step and I will break your arms."
The doorman sneered from the sidelines, crossing his arms over his gold-trimmed uniform. "You heard the Alpha. Detain the rogue. We do not tolerate threats here."
"I am not a rogue," I said, raising my fists, keeping my balance centered. "And he is not an Alpha. Just a pathetic bully who attacks parked motorcycles."
"Shut her up!" Victoria whined, clutching Brandon's arm and leaning her heavy belly against him. "She is ruining our check-in, babe. Make them take her away."
"With pleasure," Brandon said. He looked at the hesitant guards. "Are you deaf? I gave you an order."
The guard on the left lunged forward, his fingers outstretched to grab the collar of my neon jacket.
Before his hand could make contact, the pavement violently jerked.
A low, vibrating hum resonated through the soles of my steel-toed boots. The glass doors of the Moonstone Hotel groaned under a sudden, invisible pressure. Spiderweb fractures shot across the panes with a sharp series of pops, raining tiny glass shards onto the red carpet.
"What the hell?" Brandon muttered.
The air thickened. This was nothing like the clumsy pressure Brandon had forced on Leo earlier. This was true dominance—clean, undeniable, and sharp with the taste of ozone.
The two security guards collapsed. Their knees slammed into the concrete with a sickening crunch. The doorman followed, flattening himself against the red carpet, gasping for oxygen like a fish pulled from the water.
Victoria dropped to her knees, tearing the silk of her maternity dress on the pavement. "Brandon! Help me! It hurts to breathe!"
Brandon ignored her. His own knees buckled. His face drained of color as he fought the crushing force. He planted a hand on the hood of his Maybach, his knuckles turning white as he strained to stay upright.
Footsteps echoed across the silent plaza. Steady. Unhurried. Lethal.
A phalanx of men in immaculate black uniforms marched into the drop-off zone. At their center walked a man who made the very air around him burn.
Alexander.
He wore a tailored obsidian suit, the fabric perfectly fitted across his broad shoulders. Pinned to his lapel, catching the harsh plaza lights, rested the Royal gold brooch—a snarling wolf crowned in diamonds.
Three of his personal guards stepped forward in unison. The metallic ring of steel filled the space as they drew their swords, the polished blades glinting under the marquee.
"Secure the perimeter," the lead guard barked.
Alexander ignored the drawn blades. He ignored the kneeling hotel staff. He certainly ignored Brandon, who was now shaking against the car.
His gaze remained fixed on me.
He closed the distance between us in long, even strides. The terrifying pressure radiating from him vanished the second he reached my side, replaced by a deep, radiating warmth that settled into my bones.
"Aria," he murmured. His voice was a rich baritone that vibrated right through my chest.
He did not wait for my response. His hand slid around to the small of my back, pulling me flush against his solid chest. The movement was fiercely possessive, anchoring me to him in front of the entire plaza.
He lowered his head and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my forehead.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his lips brushing my skin.
"I am fine," I said, glancing at the ruined tire of my bike. "Just a minor delay."
Alexander's hand tightened marginally on my waist. He finally turned his attention outward.
Brandon stared, his jaw slack. His eyes darted from the Royal gold brooch on Alexander's collar to the hand resting on my hip.
"Y-Your Majesty," Brandon stammered, his voice cracking. He tried to bow, but his trembling legs betrayed him, dropping him to a pathetic, half-crouched position against the silver bumper of his car.
"You know this man?" Alexander asked me, his tone devoid of any warmth.
"Unfortunately," I replied. "He used to think he owned me. Now he just destroys my property."
Brandon's face contorted in panic. "Your Majesty, there is a misunderstanding. This female is a rogue. A stray. She was harassing my mate and me."
"Harassing you," Alexander repeated.
"Yes!" Victoria cried out from the ground, clutching her stomach. "She attacked us! She is dangerous!"
One of the Royal guards stepped forward, his sword pointed directly at Victoria's throat. "Silence. You do not speak unless the King addresses you."
Victoria choked on a sob, pressing her hands over her mouth.
Brandon swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "Sire, I am Alpha Brandon of the Shadowmere Pack. I was merely disciplining a packless troublemaker. I had no idea she was... that she knew..."
"You were disciplining her," Alexander said.
"Yes, Sire. She refused to kneel. Her bastard pup refused to show respect."
Alexander shifted his stance. The terrifying weight in the air doubled.
Brandon hit the pavement. His chin cracked against the concrete, pinning him flat. A pathetic whimper escaped his throat.
"That pup," Alexander said, his voice dropping to a lethal calm, "is under my direct protection."
Leo peeked out from behind my leg, staring up at Alexander with wide, curious eyes. Alexander offered my son a brief, reassuring nod before turning his attention back to the trembling Alpha on the ground.
"And the woman you just called a stray," Alexander continued, "holds my highest favor."
Brandon gasped, struggling to lift his head even an inch off the ground. "Your Majesty... I did not know... I swear..."
"You slashed her tire," Alexander stated, glancing at the ruined motorcycle.
"It was an accident!" Brandon pleaded, his voice high and reedy. "A mistake!"
"A mistake," Alexander echoed. "Like the one you made ordering these guards to lay hands on her?"
"I was protecting my pregnant mate!" Brandon cried.
"You are a coward hiding behind a title you do not deserve," Alexander said.
He did not raise his voice. He did not need to. The absolute authority in his tone sliced through Brandon's pathetic excuses.
"Aria," Alexander said, keeping his eyes on Brandon. "What is the penalty for attacking a member of the Royal household?"
"I am not a member of your household, Alexander," I reminded him quietly.
"You are whatever I say you are," he replied smoothly. "Answer the question."
"Loss of rank," I said, staring down at my former mate. "And restitution."
Brandon let out a strangled noise. "No! You have no grounds to strip my Alpha title! I have a pack! I have an heir on the way!"
"Your pack will survive without a weak leader," Alexander said.
"Please!" Victoria begged from the sidelines, tears ruining her perfectly applied makeup. "He did not mean it! We will pay for the bike! We will buy her ten bikes!"
"You will buy her nothing," Alexander commanded. "Because you no longer have the funds to do so."
Brandon's eyes widened in sheer terror. "What?"
"I am seizing the Shadowmere accounts," Alexander announced, his voice ringing across the silent plaza. "Effective immediately. Your territory now belongs to the Crown."
"You have no right to do that!" Brandon screamed, thrashing against the invisible weight holding him down. "Over a motorcycle? Over a rogue?!"
"I do whatever I please," Alexander said. "I am the King."
Brandon stared up at him, broken. The arrogant Alpha who had thrown a single dollar bill at my feet five years ago was gone. In his place lay a ruined man, shaking on the concrete.
The plaza fell dead silent, save for the hiss of air still leaking from my ruined tire.
Alexander's golden eyes locked onto the trembling Brandon, his hand gripping my waist tightly.
