The Alpha's Forsaken Feisty Mate

"And you need to send Nina away. She’s a danger to you, to Luna Zenna, and to your pack. You can’t allow her to stay here while you’re already married—and mated to your fated partner."

Radulf sat on the intricately carved chair, his posture rigid as he dismissed Savio with a wave of his hand. "Don’t expect me to act differently," he said. "Nina will stay here, even if Zenna despises it. If Nina truly is a danger, then I must face her head-on and crush that threat before it has the chance to harm me."

Savio shook his head in disapproval, his frustration evident. "As your friend, I’m telling you, you should at least consider this one piece of advice," he said, leaning forward slightly as he spoke.

Radulf ignored the plea, instead steering the conversation in another direction. "Did you find anything important about Gregor Tarquin?" he asked with distrust.

Savio sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Gregor Tarquin is set to become the Alpha of the White Moon Pack. He’s a loyal friend to Luna Zenna and played a significant role in supporting her when this pack was struggling. From what I’ve learned, there’s no threat from him."

Radulf frowned, his fingers tapping against the armrest. "I doubt that," he muttered under his breath, his gaze distant as his thoughts churned. "He looks at Zenna as more than just a friend."

Savio glanced at him, brow furrowed. "What did you say, Alpha?"

"Nothing," Radulf replied curtly, his expression tightening. He stood abruptly and said, "Just keep an eye on him anyway."

Radulf didn’t wait for Savio’s response and strode out of the room, heading toward the dining hall. However, in the corridor, he abruptly stopped as his eyes fell on Zenna.

She stood there, dressed in a stunning golden gown adorned with intricate embroidery that shimmered faintly under the light. The sight of her momentarily caught him off guard, though his expression quickly hardened.

Zenna held his gaze without flinching, her chin slightly raised as if challenging him. Eventually, they began walking toward each other, neither willing to yield or acknowledge the other, until they reached the staircase.

Radulf broke the silence first, his voice laced with cold irritation. "I clearly told you not to show your face—"

"Then wear a blindfold if my face bothers you this much," Zenna snapped. "Or better yet, shut yourself in your chamber. Spare me your tantrums."

Radulf’s eyes narrowed. "Are you really—"

"I hate your voice," Zenna interrupted sharply, her eyes blazing with anger. "So, do me a favor and don’t speak to me."

Radulf’s lips twitched in frustration, his pride stung by her defiance. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought to hold back the anger rising within him. For a fleeting moment, he wondered how Zenna could so easily provoke him.

’That is the treatment you deserve,’ Black voiced, feeling happy.

’He thinks I will beg him to love me. Never. Now, he’s marked me, I will use it for my own benefits!’ Zenna was engrossed in her own thoughts when her right heel twisted and a cry escaped her mouth.

Before Zenna could react, Radulf’s arm shot out and wrapped firmly around her waist, pulling her against him to prevent her from falling. Her breath hitched as the sudden closeness made her heart race.

"Should I let you fall?" Radulf asked, a mischievous smirk curling on his lips.

"Huh? No!" Zenna blurted out, tilting her head to look up at him. Her balance was still off, and she found herself leaning into his hold.

Radulf raised a brow, feigning indifference. "I’m not listening. You told me not to speak to you," he quipped. His smirk deepened, his tone laced with amusement. "But if you do fall, I’m certain you’ll break a hand or a leg. Then you’ll be confined to bed for a while, and maybe that sharp tongue of yours will finally stop lashing out at everyone."

Zenna narrowed her eyes. "How can you think so ill of your own wife!?" she demanded.

Radulf’s smirk remained, but his eyes darkened slightly. "Apologize to me, and I’ll pull you up. Otherwise..." He paused, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone. "I might just throw you off these stairs."

Zenna’s eyes widened in panic. "Are you serious? What if I die?" she asked, her voice rising slightly as her heart pounded against her ribcage.

Radulf’s lips curled into a cold smile. "I distinctly remember you claiming you’d rather accept death than my mark," he reminded her.

Zenna stared into his green orbs. "You wouldn’t dare," she said, though her voice faltered slightly.

Radulf raised a brow. "Try me," he replied with an unreadable expression.

"You can let me go," Zenna challenged. She thought Radulf was only jesting, but the serious glint in his eyes told her otherwise.

"Very well, dear wife," Radulf said in his extremely calm voice as he released his grip on her.

"Ahhh!"

This time, Zenna’s scream rang out in a high pitch, her body tipping backward as she lost her balance.

But to her surprise, Radulf was quick to catch her again, his laughter filling the air as he held her firmly in his arms.

Zenna’s eyes widened in shock. Was this some kind of twisted amusement for him?

Radulf chuckled softly, his gaze dancing with mischief. "You won’t die easily," he said, helping her stand upright.

Zenna, still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, narrowed her eyes at him. "Yes, I won’t. Because I’ll take you to my grave too," she snapped, pushing him away with a force that was more out of frustration than actual strength.

Radulf staggered slightly from the push but quickly regained his footing. His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent. For a moment, he lost himself in the allure of it as his pupils’ color changed.

Nina, who watched their playful banter tightly fisted her palms, her nails almost digging in her skin. So, the rumors were right. Radulf marked Zenna last night. A weak omega won against her. The mere thought filled her with a feeling of vengeance.