Chapter 148: The Prince's Fury

Prince Damon, apoplectic with rage, stared at the television screen. He didn't know how Sinclair had discovered the story he'd leaked to The Current, and he didn't care. The result was the same: the Moon Valley Alpha and his Luna were on live TV, accusing him of corruption and murder. Worse, the reporters lapped it up, ignoring the lies Sinclair had been spreading for months.

Damon's investigators hadn't yet discovered Ella's human life; now, it seemed, they wouldn't need to, as she was explaining everything.

The she-wolf exchanged a nod with her mate before addressing the crowd. "The truth is, the beginning of our relationship is a mystery to us both. We both desperately wanted children after years of trying and failing with our previous partners. I didn't know it then, but I couldn't conceive because I was with a human. Long story short, I went to a sperm bank as a last resort. Dominic had sent his sperm there for analysis, and somehow, it was mixed up with my donor's sample."

"When Dominic sensed his heir in my womb a few days later, we didn't understand how I conceived a shifter's child. Now, the mystery is the mix-up itself. We may not have conceived traditionally, but we fell in love so fiercely and quickly that there's no doubt it was meant to be," she said, her voice warm as she gazed at the Alpha. "All we can say is, the Goddess works in mysterious ways."

Excited murmurs filled the room. Damon gripped the sofa so hard his claws tore the upholstery. This was unbelievable. Why didn't anyone care that they'd lied—confessing they hadn't even known each other when Ella conceived—and the press still fawned over them? Romantic fools! he thought bitterly. What was wrong with this species? So easily swayed by fantasies and fairy tales about the Goddess.

He switched off the television when a reporter obsequiously asked, "When did you realize you were in love?"

"Bring Lydia to me," he ordered the guard. "Then tell my father to clear his schedule. We need to talk."

Lydia arrived shortly afterward, skittish and uncertain. "What's happened?" she asked anxiously.

"Sinclair's outmaneuvered us again. He announced Ella's wolf was dormant and that he lied about her past to protect her," Damon explained. "Then he accused me of planning the rogue attack and kidnapping her—and he had footage of their second meeting!"

Lydia's eyes widened in horror. "The Current must have called them for comment."

"A comment!" Damon ranted. "And you didn't think Sinclair would seize the opportunity? Nobody cares that they lied because he turned it into a romantic comedy! I told you this was your last chance, you stupid cow!"

"But it wasn't my fault!" Lydia cried, fear radiating from her. "All I've ever done is try to help you! I never would have kidnapped Ella if it weren't for you—they wouldn't have that footage; Sinclair would have quietly countered us privately if we hadn't angered him so much!" The Prince thundered, stalking her across the room, his wolf glowing in his eyes. "You've screwed everything up since you entered my life, and now you've ruined my chances of becoming King!"

"Then I'll leave!" Lydia offered frantically, sensing the danger. "I'll go away, and you'll never hear from me again. I swear it."

Women, Damon mused bitterly. Always interfering but unwilling to take responsibility or get their hands dirty. Suddenly, Ella's hints about the Princess's murder clicked.

Poison, he thought. That's why Ella called it a feminine tactic—passive. Perhaps it was Lydia's cowering, but Ella's clue now seemed obvious. Who benefited from her death?

Understanding hit Damon. Lydia's actions since she'd entered his life suddenly made sense. She'd always attached herself to powerful men, moving on when they discovered her treachery. "But you don't have anywhere to go, do you?" he snarled. "Your husband discarded you, Sinclair rejected you. You've never worked a day in your life. It must have seemed like a golden opportunity when I became single, right when you were about to lose everything. Quite a coincidence, wasn't it?"

Lydia trembled violently as he circled her like a predator. "W-what do you mean?" she asked.

"She was killed in a women's restroom. No male wolves were scented near her body," he said sharply. "And poison such a non-confrontational weapon."

"I know what you think, but it isn't true," Lydia stammered. "You're being tricked. Ella put these ideas in your head."

"You could only know that if you were eavesdropping," Damon accused. "And you're not the only one manipulating me." He thought of Sinclair's comments about Lydia's interference. Sinclair might be despicable, but he hadn't been wrong about his ex-wife. "You probably thought you could make me fall for you, playing your cards right. Tell me, did you want to help me or yourself? Did you care if I became King, or did you just want to be Queen, willing to eliminate anyone in your way?"

"It wasn't like that!" Lydia insisted. "And Angeline's death helped your campaign more than anything you did to discredit Sinclair."

"So that's your defense? You killed my mate, but I shouldn't be bothered because it helped my polls?"

"No! Of course not!" Lydia pleaded, desperate. "I didn't I didn't kill her. You have to believe me!"

"You were willing to let your fated mate die for your ambitions," Damon reminded her. "You didn't care about attacking a pregnant woman and killing her unborn pup, despite your supposed love for children. So why should you care about my mate?"

"Because I respect you too much to ever cross you," Lydia professed, dropping to her knees. "You're my Prince. I would never displease you."

"And when did that begin? You helped Sinclair oppose me for years. Let's be honest, Lydia. Your allegiance goes to whoever offers the most power and status," the Prince grumbled, seeing her true colors. "You're a scheming, gold-digging narcissist, and you took my mate—my princess—for your own selfish gain."

Lydia tearfully shook her head, defeated. "Please, just let me go. I'll do anything."

"It's too late," Damon snapped, closing the distance. "I should have done this the moment you tried to tell me how to run my campaign."

"Please, have mercy," Lydia begged, sobbing as she tried to crawl away.

"Shut the hell up!" Damon snarled, lashing out with his claws. He wanted to make her suffer, but he didn't have time. He needed to speak with his father and do damage control before the Alpha Council issued a warrant for his arrest. His claws ripped out her throat, silencing her moans.

Her lifeless body fell at his feet. He stepped over her, wiped her blood on his trousers, and strode out the door. "Clean that up," he ordered the guard before disappearing down the hall toward the King's study.