in Vengeance 137_A Broken Alpha Heiress' Revenge

Riley’s POV

 The woman’s se

 scream fore

 through the banquet

 hall like a howl under a blood moon.

 Sharp Guttural. Animal,

 +8 Pearls

 Then–thud.

 Her body seized once before copsing backward in a graceless heap. She had fainted from the pain.

 But mercy was a luxury she’d forfeited.

 Without hesitation, one of the Stormridge guards stepped forward and hurled a bucket of ice water over her face. The sound of it sshing against her skin was crisp–almost theatrical.

 She woke with a gasping jolt, only toy eyes on her own bloodied hand. Where her thumb had once been, there was only ruined flesh, swollen and pulsing. Her shriek this time was weaker, hoarse, but no less full of horror.

 The man who had done it–her husband–stood paralyzed beside her, the bloodied de still clutched in his trembling hand. His pupils had shrunk to pinpricks. His knees buckled, and he crumpled with a sob, the knife ttering uselessly to the floor beside him.

 His tears flowed unchecked. But I felt nothing. Not a flicker of guilt.

 Around us, the banquet hall had gone deathly quiet. The scent of fear–sharp, sour, distinctly lupine–hung thick in the air. I could hear hearts pounding, lungs holding back sobs, the shuffle of expensive heels trying to edge toward the shadows

 Not a soul dared to speak.

 Not when the air wasced with dominance and retribution.

 Not when Riley Vale stood with her chin raised and blood on her hands.

 The other three couples looked as though the Moon Goddess herself had cursed them on the spot. The husbands shook like leaves in winter wind, their wives sobbing, clutching at each other, hoping in vain to be invisible.

 Lucien said nothing. He didn’t need to. He was my shield now but I was the sword.

 They turned to me then. Not to him. To me..

 “Miss Vale–please,” one of the remaining women cried, her voice cracking. “We didn’t know. We didn’t mean for it to go this Tar Please have mercy!

 Another stumbled forward, nearly copsing to her knees. “We were wrong. We admit it. You want punishment? Fine! Just not like this”

 I stepped forward slowly, the hem of my moon–blue gown whispering across the marble. Every eye followed me. Every heartbeat seemed to pause

 I looked down at them–those same women who had once looked at me like filth

 Who had tom my robes.

 Who had struck me

 and called me a rogue niult.

 me

 “You think mercy is yours to beg for My voice didn’t tremble “Where was that mercy when you pinned tue down and Laughed

 They solid harder

 45PM p p.

 +8 Pearls

 One of the husbands tried to shield his wife, stepping in front of her like a knight made of paper. “We’ll do anything.” he pleaded. “Just name it.”

 I smiled. Not kindly.

 “You said anything?”

 His eyes lit with fragile hope. “Yes.”

 rawl”

 “Good.” I said coolly. “Then crawl.”

 Their expressions cracked. Shocked. Disbelieving.

 You heard me. I continued, voice calm and brutal. “On your hands and knees. All of you. Snarl your apologies like the she wolves you pretend to be. Show your belly. Bare your throat. Then drag your tongues across this floor and scrub your sins. from it. That is the only redemption I will allow.”

 One of the women sobbed, “That’s–inhuman.”

 “No.” I said, eyes gleaming. “It’s wolf.”

 The hesitationsted less than a breath. Under the weight of mymand–strengthened by Lucien’s silent dominance behind me they dropped. Four high–society women, crawling like mutts before the pack 

 They lowered their heads, bared their throats, and began to growl apologies–low, forced, humiliating. Their growls trembled with shame and terror. The sound echoed across the hall like a dirge.

 Then they licked.

 Tongues scraped over the marble. Blood and tears smeared into the polished surface as they dragged themselves forward inch by inch. For each step, they repeated broken apologies–snarling through clenched jaws, sobbing, sputtering as saliva and pride pooled at their knees.

 I stood above them, unmoved.

 Let every wolf in this hall see what true justice looks like.

 Let them remember the sound of groveling socialites, once so high and mighty, now licking the floor beneath my feet like conquered bitches.

 When they finally copsed in exhaustion, I said coldly. “Take them outside.”

 The guards didn’t throw them out like trash.

 They paraded them

 Made them crawl across the banquet carpet and into the open street, where the evening pack traffic had begun to gather Where dozens–hundreds of wolves could see what had be of them.

 They didn’t shiniek. They couldn’t. Their voices had broken from too much groveling 

 I didn’t need them to scream.

 I needed them to be seen

 Humiliated not just by pain–but by submission.

 When the doors closed again, the hall exhaled.

 A beat of silence

 Then I turned my gaze to her

 The true orchestrator. The one who’d whispered lies and stirred cruelty with manicured ws.

 She dropped before I could say a word, copsing at my feet like her legs had vanished.

 Miss Vale. I beg you. Please. I was wrong. I–I was jealous, and foolish and cruel, but I never meant to-

 I raised a hand. She silenced instantly.

 The sound of her knees mming into marble echoed like a final verdict.

 +8 Pearls

 Blood oozed from her forehead as she threw herself down again and again in desperate bows. “Please please forgive me. 

 I didn’t speak for a long moment. Just watched her.

 Her tears meant nothing to me.

 Her trembling meant nothing.

 “I should make you howl your shame to every wolf in this city,” I said coldly. “I should brand you.”

 But just before the words could leave my mouth, I stopped myself

 Because Seraphina was still Lucien’s blood.

 And though she had betrayed everything her family should have stood for, I would not cross the line. Not this one. This was his Pack. His house. His shame to deal with.

 I stepped back–not in fear, not in surrender–but in principle.

 I turned to Lucien, my voice calm and steady.

 “She’s yours.”

 The weight of my words settled over the hall like storm clouds.

 Lucien hadn’t moved through any of this. He had simply watched–silent, calcting But now, his icy gaze shifted toward Seraphina, and something colder than winter began to stir behind his eyes.

 Seraphina lifted her face to him, blood and tears streaking her once–pristine features

 “Lucien please.”

 But his silence was deafening.

 He stepped forward slowly, like the ude rising before it crashes.

 “You dishonored the Duskgrave name,” he said, voice low and sharp as broken ss. “You lifted ws against my mate. And then you groveled not because you regret it but because you lost.”

 Her breath hutched

 carn didn’t shout. He didn’t need to

 “You should have thought of that before you shamed my blood,” he said icily

 Then he looked to the guards.

 “Take her to the private lounge. She still owes me more”

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in Vengeance 137