h4Chapter 152: Exiled/h4

    A pair of pce guards stepped forward, heads bowed. Then came a former advisor—an older man with shaking hands who lifted his voice: "I delivered your messages to rogue Alphas, mydy. You paid me well."

    "No," Marce whispered, taking a step back. "You’re all lying."

    But the guards came forward with something else—an artifact, glinting with old magic. A pendant once worn by Athena, stolen from her rooms during her heat, when her powers had red dangerously.

    "Found beneath Marce’s floorboards," Cassius said coldly. "Laced with suppression spells meant to drain the Goddess’s strength."

    Silence fell like a de.

    Marce’s mask cracked. Her eyes darted to the council, then to Athena, then back.

    "She’s manipting all of you!" she shrieked. "She’s controlling your minds—just like she controlled him!"

    She pointed at Lucas.

    Lucas took a single step forward. "No one controls me, Marce. Least of all a woman who poisons her own court."

    Marce’s voice turned shrill. "You still want her, don’t you? She’s corrupted you, both of you!" She turned wildly to Cassius. "You would betray your blood for her?"

    Cassius didn’t speak.

    Athena did.

    "Enough," she said, her voice glowing with authority.

    The room obeyed. Even Marce froze.

    "I allowed you to speak," Athena continued. "I allowed you to perform your games before this council. But no more. You stole from me. You tried to corrupt the bond meant only for my mate. You spread lies and shadows through this pce like rot."

    Athena took a step down from her throne.

    "You tried to im a crown that was never yours to wear."

    Her power red—subtle but unignorable, like the moon rising behind storm clouds.

    Marce fell to her knees.

    Not by choice.

    Alphas gasped as the magic in the air grew heavy. Light shimmered around Athena, casting the council hall in silver glow. Marce wed at her throat, her voice catching.

    Athena stood over her, gaze piercing.

    "I will not kill you," she said. "But your name is stricken from this court. Your power is shattered. Your bond severed. You are no longer of this pack."

    Lucas ced the ceremonial dagger into Athena’s hand. She sliced her palm, then let the blood drop onto Marce’s crest—burning it away in a hiss of light and smoke.

    Marce screamed as the magic was ripped from her.

    Cassius turned his head. He couldn’t watch.

    Lucas kept his eyes open. He needed to see it.

    The council did not interfere.

    When it was done, Marce copsed. Nothing more than a trembling figure in torn silk and shame.

    Guards moved forward.

    "Exile her," Athena said quietly. "Let her live, so she remembers this moment every night she draws breath."

    As they dragged her out of the hall, Athena turned back to the court.

    "This is not a reign built on fear or blood," she said. "But I will not allow betrayal to grow unchecked. I protect this pack with everything I am. That will never change."

    The Alphas rose as one.

    And bowed.

    The doors to Athena’s chamber closed with a soft thud, sealing the silence in. The kind of silence that follows war. That coils after blood has dried and victory has been dered—too quiet to trust, too sacred to breathe.

    She stood at the window, still wrapped in the silver robes she wore during Marce’s judgment. The moon above watched her through broken clouds, and beneath its light, she looked both celestial and wrecked. Her palm still stung from the blood-severing ritual. Her throat burned from unspoken fury.

    But the ache between her legs?

    That had nothing to do with war.

    She heard the door open again.

    Didn’t turn.

    Lucas stepped inside, quiet as ever. He closed the door behind him with care, and the lock clicked into ce.

    She didn’t ask why he came.

    She didn’t have to.

    "I could feel you across the hall," he said, voice low. "Even with the council watching. Even while she was screaming."

    Athena said nothing. Her hands clenched tighter on the window frame.

    "I wanted to touch you," he went on, moving closer. "Wanted to rip that gown off you when you bled onto her crest. When you ended her without lifting a sword."

    Finally, she turned.

    Her silver eyes met his gold—and the air between them caught fire.

    He looked like a storm barely leashed. Still in his formal ck, shirt undone, neck flushed. His jaw twitched as he stared at her, but his hands were still.

    "Say something," he said hoarsely.

    Athena moved toward him in silence.

    One step.

    Then another.

    Then she reached up and dragged her fingers slowly through his dark hair, letting her nails lightly scratch his scalp.

    "I didn’t need you to protect me today," she said.

    Lucas’s jaw clenched.

    "But I wanted you there."

    Something in him broke.

    He grabbed her face in both hands and kissed her.

    It wasn’t soft.

    It was a storm let loose.

    Teeth, breath, lips devouring each other. Athena moaned against his mouth, her fingers already tugging at the buckles of his coat. He shrugged it off, letting it hit the floor, then pulled her closer—one hand gripping her waist, the other sliding into her hair.

    He kissed her like it was a promise. Like every time they hadn’t kissed in the past weeks had been a lie.

    Her hands trailed down his chest, tugging his shirt loose from his belt. He pulled back just enough to speak against her lips.

    "You smell like fire," he growled. "Like a goddess on the edge of breaking."

    She licked his bottom lip, eyes zing. "Then break me."

    He mmed her against the wall.

    Her robe fell open.

    She wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

    "Moon above," Lucas breathed.

    He dropped to his knees.

    Worship wasn’t new to Athena. She’d been bowed to. Feared. Adored.

    But never like this.

    Lucas kissed her thighs, biting one gently before parting them and pressing his mouth between her legs. She gasped, nearly crumpling against the wall as heat exploded through her.

    He was slow.

    Precise.

    Devastating.

    Her fingers dug into his hair, and he groaned against her, the vibration shooting through her spine. She writhed, head thrown back, lips parting in helpless gasps as he drew circles over her most sensitive spot with his tongue.

    "Lucas—" she whispered.

    He didn’t stop.

    He didn’t slow.

    He devoured.

    When she finally shattered against his mouth, her cry echoed through the chamber, chased by the crackle of moonlight bursting across the ceiling.