Chapter Title: The Tainted Toast
Rosa's POV
The celebration was in full swing. Laughter echoed through the grand courtyard, lights shimmered against the elegant drapery, and dancers spun gracefully to the rhythm of flutes and drums. I stood near the edge of the crowd, watching as nobles and elites offered gifts and well wishes to Alpha Cedric.
But none of it touched me.
My eyes were glued to one scene alone — Matilda and Bryant.
There she was, in that dangerously tight crimson dress, standing beside him like she belonged there. Her hand grazed his arm far too often. Her laugh, too loud and too familiar, rang through the air like a knife to my chest.
Bryant said nothing. But he didn't move away either.
I bit down on my lower lip and looked away, my chest tightening with emotions I didn't want to name. I walked over to a passing waiter and reached for a glass of wine.
Then another.
Then another.
"Your Majesty… please stop." Paige's voice whispered urgently beside me. "You haven't eaten much. You'll make yourself sick—"
"I'm fine," I said sharply, yanking my arm free from her hold.
The burning liquid offered momentary comfort, but soon I began to feel… strange. My skin heated up beneath my gown. My body ached, not in pain, but in a desperate, inexplicable need. I could barely breathe.
Everything felt overwhelming — the music, the lights, the air.
I needed to leave. Now.
"I need to use the toilet," I muttered, gripping the arm of a servant nearby. He nodded and led me through the corridor behind the celebration hall.
I stumbled into the bathroom. The moment I entered, I felt the door shut behind me — too quickly. A loud click followed.
I turned.
Edward stood there, his expression unreadable at first… until he stepped forward, eyes dark with desire.
"Edward?" I whispered, suddenly trembling. "W-What are you doing here?"
"You're burning up," he said softly, stepping closer. "You drank something you shouldn't have. I can help you..."
"No!" I gasped, backing up against the wall. My body was too hot, my limbs too weak. The air felt thick. I couldn't think straight. "Help me... please..."
His hand grazed my arm. My heart stopped. I tried to scream, but my voice cracked and barely came out.
"Stop... Edward, please don't—"
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
I was trapped.
Until the door slammed open with such force it ripped off its hinges.
Bryant.
He stood there with fire in his eyes, Maltida right behind him, shock and fury etched across both their faces.
Bryant didn't speak. He didn't hesitate.
His fist collided with Edward's face so hard it echoed through the marble walls. Edward staggered, blood flying from his nose. But Bryant didn't stop. Blow after blow landed until Edward dropped to the ground in a heap.
"Take him to the underground!" Bryant roared to the guards who rushed in.
Edward was dragged out, coughing blood, barely conscious.
I collapsed to my knees, sobbing, shaking from fear and confusion.
Bryant moved to me swiftly, scooping me up into his arms as though I weighed nothing. His body was trembling with rage.
"Whore," Matilda spat venomously from behind, her eyes blazing with jealousy. "She's nothing but a damn whore, and you keep running after her!"
Bryant turned slowly, his gaze cold and deadly.
"Get out," he said, voice so calm it was terrifying. "Now."
Matilda flinched under the weight of his stare but stood her ground, eyes wet and livid. She turned and stormed off.
I buried my face into Bryant's chest, still trembling, barely able to breathe.
He said nothing more.
He carried me all the way through the silent halls, past the curious stares and murmuring servants, until we reached his chambers.
The door shut behind us.
And then—silence.
—
Rosa's body trembled, not just from the drug coursing through her veins, but from the whirlwind of emotions she couldn't contain. The moment Bryant laid her gently on the bed and turned to leave, something inside her shattered.
"Don't go... please," she whispered, her voice hoarse and laced with desperation.
Bryant froze mid-step.
She sat up, clutching the sheets tightly, her breathing shallow, her cheeks flushed. Tears rimmed her eyes, and her body trembled not from fear but from a deep, aching need. She didn't understand it completely, but she knew she couldn't let him walk out that door.
He turned slowly, his expression unreadable, his jaw tight.
"Rosa, you're not well. You need rest."
"No," she said with more firmness than expected. She stood on unsteady feet and walked toward him, her steps hesitant but determined. Her hands reached for his, and she placed them gently on her waist. "I don't want to be alone tonight."
Her touch burned against his skin. She looked up into his eyes, and for the first time, he saw her not as Luna, not as a responsibility, but as a woman whose heart was laid bare before him.
Bryant felt his guard waver.
"This isn't you," he murmured. "You're not thinking clearly."
She shook her head, her fingers trembling as they reached to touch his chest. "But I feel everything so clearly right now. And I know it's you. I don't understand why you make me feel safe, even when I'm breaking. But I do."
Her words pierced through his armor. His hands instinctively reached for her waist, steadying her as she leaned into him. He could feel her heartbeat, fast and desperate.
"Rosa..."
She looked up again, her lips parted, her eyes glossy and warm. "Bryant... stay. Please. I need you."
He lowered his head slightly, their foreheads nearly touching. Her breath fanned across his cheek, sweet and urgent.
The silence between them thickened with tension. He knew this wasn't the right time, not with the drug still influencing her, but the connection between them felt primal, magnetic. Her presence, her voice, her scent—it all called to something buried deep within him.
She leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his jaw. It wasn't lust in her voice, not entirely—it was vulnerability, unfiltered and raw. "I don't want you as the Alpha... just you."
His eyes closed briefly, pained. "You don't know what you're asking."
She rested her head against his chest. "Maybe not. But I know what I feel."
A long pause passed. Then, gently, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. No words, just silence and warmth. The kind that heals. The kind that says: I'm here.
Outside, a storm had begun. Soft rain tapped against the windows, wind rustling the leaves beyond the walls. It was as if the world outside mirrored the chaos in both their hearts.
Rosa's breathing slowed in his arms. The heat that had clouded her senses began to ease under the comfort of his touch.
He looked down at her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll stay. Just tonight."
She smiled softly, her eyes already fluttering shut. "Thank you."
And for the first time in a long while, Bryant sat still beside her, his arms around her, watching over her as sleep finally claimed her.
But his eyes didn't close.
Because while she rested, he wrestled with the truth.
Something was shifting between them.
And that scared him more than anything else.
Matilda's POV
The night air felt cold against my skin, but it couldn't match the chill crawling down my spine.
From the balcony of my chambers, I watched it happen.
Bryant.
He lifted Rosa in his arms like she was a delicate flower. Like she mattered. Like he loved her.
I gripped the iron railing so hard my knuckles whitened. The moon bathed the garden in silver, mocking me. The same moon that was supposed to guide mates to each other. The same moon that had cursed me with a bond that felt more like a punishment than a blessing.
I should be the one he carried.
I should be the one whose scent soothed his sleep.
I had done everything right. Everything.
The mate bond elixir should have sealed it. The ritual, the potion—the whispers of old magic. I paid the price. I silenced the Priestess. I gave Bryant every chance to love me.
And still...
His eyes followed Rosa. His arms reached for her. His soul refused to let go of her.
I turned from the balcony, my silk robe flowing behind me like shadows clinging to my anger. I paced the room, heart thundering in my chest. Bea, my wolf, stirred restlessly in my reflection.
> "You said he would be ours," I muttered.
Bea's eyes met mine through the mirror. "He is. But fate is a thread tangled in choices. Rosa… she's not supposed to be in this weave."
> "Then why does he still crave her?"
Bea didn't answer.
I hated how quiet she became when I needed her the most.
I threw my goblet of wine across the room, shattering the crystal and spilling red liquid across the marble floor. Like blood. Like a warning.
Rosa had to go. Not just out of Bryant's heart. Out of the palace. Out of existence.
But this time, it couldn't be loud. Not like the last time. Bryant had saved her. Again.
No, this time it had to be quiet.
Untraceable.
I turned to the chest tucked under my vanity. Inside it were old scrolls, letters from witches, dark recipes... and secrets.
Secrets of how to sever a mate bond.
Secrets of how to bend one.
I lifted the parchment with trembling fingers, reading the faded ink under my breath. I would find the one who wrote this. Even if it meant leaving the palace for a while.
But before that...
Bryant needed to see me.
He needed to see the version of me that was soft. Deserving. Loving.
I would remind him of our bond. Make him feel guilty. Make him remember what he was walking away from. And when he finally crumbles, I will be the only one left standing beside him.
Rosa's days are numbered.
Let the moon bear witness.
Let fate try to interfere.
Because this time...
I'll be writing the ending myself.
---