The square had never been so quiet.

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    After Francesco’s words, after the truth struck like thunder through the crowd, all of Valmont seemed to hold its breath.

    Alpha Dorian stood in the center of it, armor catching the fading light, his chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.

    His eyes, burning, still searched the crowd as if by sheer will he might drag his daughter from thin air.

    But she was not there. And she would never be again.

    Through the bond, I felt the edges of Francesco’s power humming – steady, controlled, unshakable. Alpha Dorian knew it too. He hade with thirty men, wagons, banners, and arrogance. But he had note to die, and he had note to lose half his warriors in a bloody disy. He knew better than to test a Lycan King head–on.

    No, Dorian had always chosen subtler weapons. Whispers. usations. Rumors that wormed into the bones of packs faster than any spear.

    And I could see it in his eyes

    —

    the realization that though he could not win here, in this square, with swords and teeth, he could still wound us elsewhere.

    He straightened slowly, the storm behind his face shuttered behind a mask of icy calm. His mouth curved, not in a smile, but in a thin, practiced line that promised poison.

    “I see,” he said iat /ist, his voice carrying over the crowd, smooth as silk stretched over ss. “My daughter is gone. Vanished. Left, you say.” His gaze flicked to me, and for a heartbeat it lingered–heavy, using. “How convenient.”

    Murmurs rippled through the onlookers. I felt the weight of their gazes shift, some in suspicion, some in fear. Dorian had spoken not as a grieving father, but as a man nting seeds. And seeds, if not torn out at the root, grow into weeds that choke truth itself.

    Francesco’s voice rumbled in reply, low but iron–strong. “She left because you chained her spirit. She left because you denied the bond the Goddess herself gave her. Do not call convenience what is your own failure.”

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    For a flicker, rage cracked Dorian’s mask the snarl of a wolf denied prey. But then it was gone, reced with coldposure. He bowed his head just slightly, mocking civility.

    “I will not spill blood in another Alpha’s square,” he said, though we all knew the truth – it was not mercy that stayed his hand, but survival. “But the world will know this: the King of Italy harbors thieves. That he lures daughters from their fathers and hides them in shadows.”

    Gasps rippled through the crowd. My heart clenched, not from fear of his words – for I knew the truth could weather lies – but for the way rumors slithered, quick and venomous, into ears that wanted something to fear.

    Francesco took one step forward, and the very ground seemed to bow beneath his presenceb. /b“Spread your

    b17:29 /bbWed/b, bSep /b17 bN /b

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    poison, Dorian. Let it carry on the wind. But remember this: truth is heavier than rumor. And when the Goddess herself weighs your soul, it is not whispers she will hear it is your daughter’s silenceb./bb” /b

    —

    –

    The square trembled. Wolves shifted, eyes darting between them between the King whose power filled the air like thunderclouds, and the Alpha who stood armored in lies.

    –

    For a moment, I thought Dorian might break that he might snarl, or strike, or unleash the fury barely contained in his veins. But instead, he smiled. Slow. Thin. Empty.

    “Then I will take my leave,” he said, his tone polished to perfection. He turned to his men, gesturing sharply. “Mount.”

    The Valois warriors obeyed, though unease flickered in their movements. They had seen too much, heard too much. Dorian’s lies might sway some, but the truth had already lodged itself in their bones.

    —

    Before he mounted, Dorian turned back onest time, his eyes locking on Francesco then on me. Cold. Calcting. “May the Goddess watch you, King. You’ll need her.”

    I felt Francesco’s power surge at my side, a growl curling in his chest, but he did not answer. He didn’t need to. Sometimes silence was sharper than any de.

    Dorian swung into his saddle, and with a snap of his reins, the Valois party wheeled and began their retreat, dust rising once again in their wake.

    The square remained frozen, every soul watching until the riders vanished beyond the ridge. Only then did the air release, the tension shattering into murmurs, questions, doubts.

    “Convenient,” someone whispered, repeating Dorian’s poison.

    “Gone? Truly gone?”

    “Why would she leave? Why not stay under the King’s protection?”

    Francesco’s aura red, silencing the crowd before rumors could root deeper. His voice boomed,manding, unyielding.

    “You heard him,” he said, his golden gaze sweeping the square. “He calls his daughter a possession. He calls her love a theft. But you know what truth lives here. You saw her stand free. You saw her choose. Do not let one Alpha’s lies drown what your own eyes have witnessed.”

    I stepped forward, lifting my voice so it carried through the gathered wolves. “Sofia was not stolen. She was not hidden. She was not caged. She left because she chose freedom, and she will not be shamed for it. We will not be shamed for it. No rumor, no whisper, can change what the Goddess has written.”

    Mothers held their daughters tighter. Warriors lowered their heads in respect. And slowly, the murmur shifted from doubt to resolve, from uncertainty to strength.

    —

    The people had seen.

    And seeing is a truth even rumors cannot erase.

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    Francesco’s hand brushed mine, a quiet anchor in the storm.

    Through the bond, I felt his pride in me, in us, in all we had built.

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    But beneath it, I also felt the shadow of what wasing. Dorian would not rest. His de was rumor, and rumor travels faster than armies.

    As the crowd dispersed, I caught thest glimpse of dust on the horizon where Dorian had vanished. My heart tightened, not with fear, but with certainty.

    The war ahead would not be fought with teeth or ws. It would be fought with stories, with whispers, with the fragile hearts of those too easily swayed.

    And we would need to be stronger still.

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