Chapter 82 The breaking point 1

Chapter 82: Chapter 82 The breaking point 1

Talia’s POV

"Keep talking," he said.

So I did.

I offered him options of more food, more medicine, and more land. I offered him trade routes and shared resources and a permanent alliance. I offered him everything I could think of, and more.

But Alpha Stone rejected every single term.

Each "no" felt like a door slamming in my face. I had prepared for this, and Kaelen had warned me it would be hard.

But knowing and feeling were different.

My chest was tight, and my hands wanted to shake, but I kept them still. I had come too far to give up now, and I had survived too much to walk away.

"No," he said with a cold voice . "It is not enough. It is too little to be called a compensation, and it is too late."

His voice grew louder with each refusal, and I was running out of options, offers, and bargains. I could see his patience was wearing thin, and I could see the frustration building behind his eyes.

I kept my face calm, even though I was reaching my limits of holding back and being patient, and I looked straight at him. "Then tell me what you want."

"I already told you," he said.

"You have told me what you want to take, but you did not tell me what you need."

He slammed his fist on the arm of his throne. The bones rattled, and the sound echoed through the empty room.

"You want to know what I need?" he shouted. "I need my pack to survive, I need my wolves to stop dying, and I need to feel like I am not failing them every single day."

I nodded. "Then let me help you," I said gently.

"I do not need your help," he yelled, waving his hand at my face.

I let out a slow breath, and kept my face straight. "You do, Alpha Stone," I said calmly.

He stood up.

The bones of his throne creaked, and the shadows shifted.

He was so much taller than I expected. His body was thin but strong, and his hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

For a moment, he looked like a giant, and like something out of a nightmare. But I had faced nightmares before. I had slept in a storage room while wolves fasted, and I had worn rags while others wore silk. So I would not be afraid of an old man on a bone chair.

His shadow loomed over me, blocking the light from the fire behind him. I had to tilt my head back to look at his face, and I could see every scar, every wrinkle, and every line that grief had carved into his skin.

He had been handsome once, I think. Before the wars, before the losses, and before the weight of his pack’s suffering bent his shoulders and aged his face.

I felt a flicker of pity for him. Not because he was weak, but because he had been alone for so long.

"Sit down," I said.

He blinked. "What?"

"Please sit down, Alpha Stone. Shouting at me will not fill your people’s bellies," I said again.

He stared at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he sat back down on his throne.

"You think you can walk into my home and tell me what I need?" His voice was rising, and shaking with anger. "You think you can offer me scraps and expect me to be grateful?"

"I do not expect you to be grateful," I said. "I expect you to be smart."

His eyes widened, then they narrowed dangerously.

"You are weak," he spat. "You are a fake Luna, and you are nothing."

The words hit me like a slap. But I did not flinch, and I did not look away. I stood perfectly still, with my hands at my sides and my eyes on his face.

"You think because you survived a few hardships, you understand pain?" he continued. "You do not know pain, child. You do not know loss, and you do not know what it feels like to watch your pack starve while you stand by, helpless."

I said nothing. I just listened and let him speak.

His words washed over me like waves, each one crashing against my chest: WEAK, FAKE, and NOTHING.

I had been called worse. In Cresswood, Vivienne had called me a monster, Celeste had called me a curse, and the servants had called me a ghost, invisible and forgotten.

Those words had hurt once. But now, they just made me tired.

I waited for him to finish. His voice cracked, and his hands trembled. But I observed that he was not just angry. He was afraid.

He was afraid that his pack would not survive, afraid that he had already failed them, and he was afraid that it was too late to save anyone. And I understood that fear.

His voice echoed through the halls, and the sound bounced off the stone walls and carried into the corridors beyond.

Soon after, footsteps pounded against the floor as guards rushed in, with their hands on their weapons, ready to attack. They formed a line behind me, blocking the door.

But behind them, Kaelen pushed through.

His gray eyes swept across the room, taking in Alpha Stone, the guards, and me. His hand was on his weapon, and his jaw was tight.

"Talia," he said. "Are you alright?"