The dungeon was a tomb of cold.
Stone walls wept dampness, the air thick with the metallic tang of iron. Chains hung from the walls like silent witnesses to centuries of pain. The torches sputtered weakly, their flames trembling as if afraid to touch the darkness.
Cassandra was dragged inside, her heels scraping harshly against the floor, the echo sharp and mocking. Her confidence, which had carried her through so many manipulations, was already fraying at the edges.
Still, she lifted her chin, arrogance clinging to her like a shield.
"You're making a mistake," she said, voice sharp, defiant. "I'm a Beta's daughter. You can't…."
Marcus shut the heavy iron door behind them with a single, reverberating clang.
"And Elena is our Luna," he said evenly, each word measured, precise.
That snapped her smile in half.
Silver restraints snapped around her wrists, glowing faintly as they ignited against her skin. Magic recognized intent, and Cassandra hissed, the pain sharp and biting. Her arrogance faltered.
Lorenzo didn't shout. Didn't rage.
That silence…heavier than any roar,was worse.
He stepped forward, every inch of him radiating power. Towering over her, he was a storm in flesh and gold, golden eyes blazing, jaw tight, every muscle coiled. His presence pressed down on her like the weight of the earth itself.
"You poisoned her," he said, voice low, cutting.
Cassandra laughed. The sound was brittle, sharp, but it was failing her now. "Poison? No… no, Alpha. I only helped the truth surface. The Moon Goddess doesn't make mistakes… but she does test."
Marcus stepped closer, his expression as cold as the dungeon walls. "Shadowroot isn't a test. Blood-ash isn't mercy. Those aren't ingredients of the Goddess,they're the marks of rogues, and witches. Dangerous magic. You betrayed her."
Cassandra's eyes flickered. Just once.
Lorenzo saw it.
His breath slowed. His claws flexed. "Who helped you?" he demanded, voice cutting through the darkness like a blade.
She said nothing.
The silence stretched until the dungeon seemed to hold its breath.
Then the truth-binding sigil at her feet ignited, silver fire snaking across the stone. Cassandra screamed, the sound sharp and primal, echoing through the hall. Her hands thrashed against the restraints, the magic burning against her skin, against her lies.
Minutes passed like hours. Hours passed like centuries. Her arrogance melted away, leaving raw fear exposed, twisting in the torchlight.
Finally, shaking, broken, she whispered, barely audible, "I… I wasn't alone."
Lorenzo's jaw tightened. The air around him thickened, heavy with anger and something older, darker.
"My mate," Cassandra sobbed. "The Rogue Alpha… the one whose brothers you killed. Whose territory you burned. He… he promised me protection."
Marcus's blood ran cold, his hand gripping his blade tighter.
"And Elena?" Lorenzo asked, voice deadly calm, golden eyes narrowing until they were molten fire.
Cassandra's lips curled weakly into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "He wants the White Wolf," she whispered. "Her power… her silence. She's the key to everything."
Far above the packhouse, Elena cried out, a sharp, unearthly sound that split the morning air.
And in the distance, something ancient stirred. Something older than wolves. Something that had been waiting for centuries, and now… it had been called.
The walls of the dungeon seemed to shiver. The torches flickered violently. Lorenzo's golden eyes glowed brighter, his wolf's growl low and trembling in his chest.
The game had changed.
And the price of envy had only just begun.