Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Kaelen’s POV

The carriage swayed gently over cobblestones. Elara’s breathing had steadied against my chest. Shallow. Rhythmic. Unconscious.

The drug had finally pulled her under.

I shifted her weight, tucking the remnants of my coat around her bare shoulders. The ice-blue gown was ruined beyond repair—torn at the bodice, wrinkled into stiff creases, streaked with dirt from the floor of that room where I’d found her. Beneath the fabric, her skin still radiated unnatural heat, though the worst of the fever had broken.

She’s sleeping, Alec murmured, pacing restlessly in my mind. Good. She needs rest. You need to take her home. Not the palace. Home. Where she feels safe.

“I don’t know where she lives.”

The admission hit like a fist to the sternum. I was the Alpha Emperor of the Nightfire Empire. I commanded legions. I controlled territories spanning half the continent. And I didn’t know where my own mate slept at night.

I reached for the communication stone in my coat pocket. It pulsed warm beneath my thumb.

“Claire.”

A pause. Then her voice, crisp despite the hour. “Your Majesty. It’s late in the night. Should I assume this isn’t about the trade delegation?”

“I need the home address of one of the archive clerks. Elara Frostfang.”

Silence. The kind that carried weight.

“Your Majesty.” Claire’s tone shifted, laced with suspicion. “May I ask why you require the personal address of a junior archivist at this hour?”

“You may not.”

Another beat. I could practically hear her choosing her next words with surgical precision.

“Riverside workers’ quarter,” she said finally. “Maple Street, number forty-seven. Dwelling 2B.” A deliberate pause. “Shall I arrange an escort?”

“No. That will be all.”

The stone dimmed. I leaned forward and gave the driver the address.

After a carriage ride of some time, we turned south. Away from the palace district with its marble facades and lantern-lit promenades. Into streets that grew progressively narrower, darker, rougher.

The buildings changed first. Grand limestone gave way to weathered brick. We arrived at a neighborhood of old structures that hadn’t seen repairs since the late Emperor’s reign.

This is where she lives? Alec’s voice carried disbelief.

I looked down at Elara. The way her fingers still clutched a fistful of my ruined shirt, even in unconsciousness. She worked in my palace and went home to this.

The carriage stopped. I gathered Elara carefully, one arm beneath her knees, the other supporting her back, and walked up to the second floor. Number forty-seven was a narrow building.

2B.

I knocked.

Footsteps. A bolt slid back. The door opened a crack.

“Who the—” The voice was female. Hostile.

“My name is Kaelen Nightfire. I’m Elara’s sovereign,” I kept my tone even. “She had too much to drink at tonight’s function. I’m bringing her home.”

The suspicion didn’t waver.

“Elara doesn’t drink.”

“Tonight was an exception.” I adjusted Elara’s weight. “She needs her bed.”

The chain rattled. The door swung open.

Brenna was a human woman standing under five feet six inches tall. Her dark hair was yanked into a messy tail. A linen apron was still tied over a loose, oversized smock. She planted herself in the center of the doorway, guarding it warily.

She reluctantly led me into an immaculate but incredibly cramped apartment, pointing toward a short hallway.

The bedroom was small. Pale yellow walls. And drawings. Crude, colorful stick figures pinned to the walls. One labeled “MOMMY” and another labeled “ME”.

I crossed to the bed and lowered Elara onto the mattress as gently as I could manage.

A creak from the hallway. Then the soft padding of bare feet on wood.

A little boy, not yet four years of age, walked into the room. He had wild, tousled dark-brown curls falling over his forehead. He wore sleepwear printed with tiny dragons, and one arm clutched a stuffed wolf toy against his chest.

“You!” he said suddenly, the sleepy confusion sharpening into something fiercer. He darted to the bed, planting himself between Elara and me, taking a protective stance despite being about three feet tall. “Who are you? Are you a bad guy?”

Alec howled in my mind. The scent radiating from the child was so familiar, making my wolf pace restlessly. It was a complex blend, containing something unmistakable...

My scent.

Is he my child?