Chapter 130: Die by my own hand

The venom burning in the woman’s eyes, even through the dark lace of her veil, struck Alyssa painfully. This was a woman consumed by an agonizing grief that defied all reason.

However, Dorian was not about to stand silently while a subject publicly disrespected his Queen.

He snapped his fingers once, and two guards suddenly stepped forward, seizing the woman by the shoulders and forcing her to her knees.

Then he stepped forward, pinning the trembling widow under his cold glare.

"State your name," he commanded.

A guard yanked the veil from her head, exposing her face to the morning light.

Alyssa’s breath hitched. The woman looked young, perhaps only a few years older than herself, though determining the exact age among Lycans was difficult.

"My name is Freya, Alpha," the widow answered. Her words were addressed to Dorian, but her bloodshot eyes remained locked on Alyssa with absolute hatred.

​"How old are you, Freya?" Dorian demanded next.

Freya thrashed against the hands holding her down, but the guards didn’t budge an inch.

"I am thirty-one," she snarled finally.

Alyssa’s brows pulled together. Thirty-one. She had been right. The widow was young, and her life had just been shattered.

Dorian took a step forward, stopping inches from where Freya knelt, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t execute you where you kneel for daring to disrespect your Queen," he snarled. "You are clearly in mourning..."

"I am in mourning because of her!" Freya shrieked, her voice cracking with raw hysteria. "My husband is dead because of her! We haven’t even celebrated a single anniversary, and he was taken from me!"

"Your husband attempted to murder my wife in cold blood!" Dorian’s voice dropped into a terrifying calm tone. "He knew the consequences of his actions when he tried to kill the Luna Queen. He deserved his death."

"He was not a murderer!" Freya screamed back, tears spilling over her cheeks. "He was a hunter, not an assassin! He was innocent!"

Dorian’s eyes flickered dangerously. If there was one thing he despised above all else, it was blind hypocrisy.

"Your husband was not innocent!" he growled. "He was a paid murderer. You simply chose to turn a blind eye to his filth. And the fact that you stand here defending a traitor after knowing his crime tells me everything I need to know about your character."

Freya was rendered speechless. Her chest heaved as tears rained down her face, her shoulders aching under the guard’s crushing grip.

"You dare stand in my territory and accuse my Queen?" Dorian continued, his voice dripping with pure ice. "You dare lay the blame for your husband’s treason at her feet?"

"If she had never set foot in this territory, none of this would have happened!" Freya spat cruelly, her lip curling. "No one would have targeted the throne! My husband would still be alive."

"Insolent bitch!" Dorian snarled, his aura flaring so violently the guards took a step back. "I will have you executed for treason. Take her away!"

"NO!" Freya screamed.

"Dorian, wait!" Alyssa interceded sharply. She placed her hand firmly over Dorian’s tensed forearm, then turned to the guards holding the hysterical woman. "Release her."

The two guards hesitated, looking to Dorian for validation, but he whirled on them with a terrifying roar. "If your Queen gives you a command, you fucking obey her!"

The guards instantly dropped their hands and backed away, bowing their heads in terror.

Alyssa lightly stroked Dorian’s arm, feeling the tension slowly ease out of his muscles. Once she was confident that he was calm enough, she stepped toward Freya, her soft voice cutting through the air.

"I am deeply sorry for your loss, Freya," she began softly. "I understand the agony you are drowning in. The loss of a husband is a tragedy no woman should endure. But you must accept the truth; your husband died because of the terrible choice he made. His end was dictated by the laws of Wintercrest, not by my hand."

"He died because of you!" Freya maintained venomously, her voice raspy. "You are an outsider! You don’t belong here, and you never will! Everything began to rot the moment they put that crown on your head!"

"How dare you speak to the Luna Queen with such insolence?" Jake bellowed, stepping forward as his hand half shifted into sharp claws and brown fur.

"Jake, that’s enough," Alyssa commanded gently, raising a hand to halt him. She knew Freya’s poisonous tongue was fueled by her grief, and she refused to order a widow executed for weeping over her loss.

"Accept my condolence, Freya," she said softly, her posture regal. "I choose to overlook your disrespect today solely because I recognize you are drowning in grief. And I refuse to execute a grieving woman."

She turned to Dorian, whose expression remained furious and stoic. "Take me home, Dorian. We are finished here. Let her mourn her husband in peace."

Dorian glared down at Freya for a long beat before finally turning away. He wrapped one protective arm around Alyssa’s waist, pulling her close against his side as they began walking back to where the Rolls Royce was parked.

Suddenly, Freya lunged off the grass. Slipping her hand into the folds of her dress, she pulled out a hidden hunting knife. With a hysterical shriek, she drew her arm back, aiming to hurl the knife at the back of Alyssa’s head.

Dorian’s senses flared instantly. He whirled around, throwing his broad frame in front of Alyssa to block the blade. But before the knife could leave Freya’s fingers, a guard tackled her violently to the ground and snatched the weapon away from her hand.

"I HATE YOU!" Freya shrieked, thrashing insanely against the dirt, her eyes wide and manic as she fixed her gaze on Alyssa. "I HATE YOU!"

Dorian stared at the unhinged woman, realizing her existence posed a threat to his wife’s safety. He turned to Jake and issued out an order.

"Bring her back to the mansion. She will be tried for treason, and her punishment will be determined by the Luna."

"Dorian, maybe we should..." Alyssa began softly, but Dorian cut her off with a glare so terrifying, so sharp, it made her blood run cold. He had never looked at her with such cold fury before.

"Don’t beg for her," he growled under his breath. "We are going home."

He began steering her firmly toward the waiting Rolls Royce. Alyssa turned her head back one last time, just in time to see Freya violently wrench her left hand free from the guard’s grip.

From the inner pocket of her bodice, she withdrew a second, smaller silver blade. Without a second of hesitation, she pressed the sharp edge against her own throat.

"NO!" Alyssa screamed, breaking away from Dorian’s grip.

"I would rather die by my own hand than be judged by you!" Freya screamed.

And before the guards could react, she dragged the silver blade across her throat. A thick torrent of blood sprayed into the air in a wild, violent spray.

Alyssa let out a gut-wrenching scream as the woman collapsed on the ground, her body twitching and spasming.

The world tilted. Her vision blurred, her body trembling violently as a familiar burning heat rushed to her eyes. Before the crimson glow could fully manifest in her pupils, Dorian moved with lightning speed.

He swept her into his arms, burying her face into his chest to block the sight, and barked a furious command to the guards over her head.

"Clean up this mess immediately! Bury the body!"

He sprinted toward the car, shielding his trembling Queen from the crowd before anyone could witness the crimson glow burning behind her eyes.

Meanwhile, across the territory, a black sedan pulled quietly into the driveway of Conri’s villa.

Conri hurried down the steps, his cane thumping with each step, a look of triumphant anticipation gleaming in his eyes. He reached the rear passenger door just as it swung open, and Bethany stepped out into the crisp air.

Stepping out right behind her was a younger woman with sleek blonde hair, sharp hazel eyes, and striking features. The second her boots hit the pavement, she ignored Conri and Bethany entirely, turning her gaze toward the outline of Dorian’s estate in the distance.

Conri rushed forward, embracing his wife tightly. "Did you encounter any complications along the border?"

"None at all," Bethany replied with a dark smile. "The border guards were bypassed entirely. Her existence remains a total secret."

"Perfect," Conri chuckled arrogantly. He turned his attention to the blonde woman, offering a hand out to her. "Welcome back, Elvira. I trust your journey was comfortable?"

Elvira slowly tore her gaze away from the distant estate, a dangerous, calculating smile spreading across her face.

"It was smooth enough," she murmured, her soft voice dripping with charm. "And I cannot wait to pay my dear Dorian a visit."