Page 19 of Sold to Three Alpha Kings

“Take her to the cell,” Sinth’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “Make sure she’s fed. And mind the way you treat her.” The last sentence is whispered in the guard’s ear—more like a warning than a statement.

Having no interest in standing there listening to him be gentle about something that shouldn’t require gentleness at all, I walk away.

“Where’re you going?” Wayne calls after me.

I ignore him and head toward the door, my boots echoing off the high walls.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Let him go,” Sinth says to him, his voice calm and gentle.

I don’t slow down, and I don’t glance back either. I keep walking until I’m out the door.

She’s a fraud. Fraud or not, she’s shiftless. Either way, she has no business occupying another minute of my time tonight.

I’m already three corridors away by the time the sound of her being led out reaches me, faint through the stone. I keep walking, telling myself that I don’t want anything to do with her.

However, deep down, I know I can’t ignore this for long. Sooner rather than later, I’m going to have to speak with the others about what to do with her. For now, though, I just need some time to gather my thoughts.

***

The middle-ground palace sits at the exact center of the three territories. It was built generations ago by Kings who understood that no single pack could be trusted to host the others without eventually turning the arrangement into a claim.

Snowpeak stone on one wing, Forestguard timber worked into the other, Trident’s pale marble threading through the halls that connect them. Neutral ground. Nobody’s throne room is truly anybody’s throne room here, which is precisely why the three of us tolerate sharing it.

Earlier, I’d received a message that I’m supposed to meet up with the other Kings at this location.

I arrive on time as always, and find the private council room. The doors part open, and I walk inside.

The ceiling is high enough that the beams vanish into shadow, no matter how bright the room burns below. A wide stone hearth throws firelight across the walls. Iron sconces line the room at intervals, flames steady, since the tall windows show nothing but black night pressing against the glass.

A long table of dark, unornamented wood dominates the center of the room, its surface scarred faintly from years of use. Three heavy chairs sit around it. Each one is carved subtly differently, marking the Pack it represents, though none sits taller or grander than the rest.

Wayne is already here, which is very unusual. He’s seated on his chair with his legs crossed on the table.

“You’re late,” he says, drumming his fingertips on fine wood.

I’m not. He’s early.

Sinth comes last, closing the door behind him.

“You’re both here. Good,” he says. “She’s in her cell. The guards have instructions not to touch her.”

Like I care.

“It’s clear to me that you arranged this meeting,” I say to Sinth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Wayne chips in, a hint of displeasure in his tone. “It could’ve been me.”

I ignore him.

“Do you wanna tell me what this is about?” The question is thrown at Sinth.

“Like you don’t know what this is about,” says Wayne.

Sinth walks past me and sits in his chair, then gestures for me to do the same.

A moment of hesitation. After that, I take my seat at the table.