Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Kayla’s POV
“Thought you were slick?”
“You're just projecting what you think you saw," I said. It was a miracle I could still talk this well. "You're giving false meanings to nothing."
Her smile only widened as she looked at me.
Her head tilted, blonde waves shifting, the glittering earrings catching light. Damn her. The drunken, wild edge was melting away like frost in sunlight, and suddenly the woman before me wasn't the unhinged creature who'd groped me moments ago.
“False…? hmm.” She dragged the word out like silk between her fingers. “Maybe true, maybe not. But my instincts? They’ve never failed me.”
I didn’t respond. I wouldn’t know the right answer to give.
Vivian’s smile stretched. “What was he to you? An uncle?” She arched one perfectly sculpted brow, waiting. “A friend… a lover?”
That was when my mask slipped, maybe because I couldn't bear being called his lover— why should I even allow that? Or because she was that close to obtaining what she was fishing for, the damn truth. I was certain that it was only a blink of a slip, but it was enough for her.
Those cruel grins of hers were making me sick. “Oh, ohhhhh, that’s it then.” Her voice dropped to a purr. “He was your lover.”
She looked like she'd won some grand prize, standing there with that triumphant gleam in her eyes. I wished—gods, how I wished—she would just stop talking.
“You have a tell, Kayla,” she sang. “And you’re not very good at hiding it. Too emotional.” She leaned in, her breath brushing my cheek. “So tell me… was he like a husband or just a good fuck?”
“Whatever you think you know, or whatever you say you know is—"
"No, no, no, no, no." Vivian waved her hand dismissively, cutting me off mid-sentence. "I don't want to hear some self-righteous bullshit talk. I don't care about your whining, of course, you can only be a worthless werewolf who leeches off of Alpha, a whore. I bet it runs in the family.”
The words hit like acid.
Whatever self-restraint I had burned off me in an instant. My hand moved before I thought about it. The crack of my palm meeting her cheek rang out sharply on the terrace.
Vivian stumbled half a step back, one hand pressed to her reddening face. But then—she laughed.
She was the devil herself.
She clenched her jaw, working it slowly as she turned back to face me. “I see. So there is violence in you after all. Did I strike the right chord? How fragile it was. Now I know exactly what I have to do.”
“You’re insane,” I spat. “Fuck you.”
I turned on my heel and stormed down out, anger blooming in my chest. I barely registered the opulence of the hall as I marched back into the dining room, my pulse drumming beneath my skin.
Laughter spilled across the table, high-pitched and hollow like glass clinking before a crash. They were still drinking, still pretending this was all some kind of royal festivity, some good alliances that would help both territories. I sat down with a calm breath, managing to reel in my harsh expression.
“Where have you been?” Lance asked quietly, not looking up from where he was methodically cutting his meat.
I didn’t look at him either when I said, “Bathroom,” then reached for my glass. “Lady stuff.”
His eyes flicked to mine then, and I saw him take in whatever expression I was wearing. "What happened? Why do you look that way?"
My fingers curled around the stem of the wine glass. “No need to fuss, nothing happened. I'm fine.”
“Your food's getting cold then."
"I'm not really hungry."
Another batch of soft laughter rippled around the table, the kind that felt too manufactured, like everyone was trying just a little too hard to seem at ease.
I glanced up. “What’s so funny?” I asked. “Did I miss a joke?”
Lance’s cutlery poised above the perfectly bloody slice of meat, didn’t break stride. “Alpha Landon here was just telling us a story,” he said.
When I finally looked at the man they were talking about, all I saw was a coward clinging to the pride he didn’t earn. As for his beloved Miranda, she was nowhere in sight now. No doubt she’d excused herself too.
“About how he made a deal with one of the Gray packs and ended up with a fine offering out of it.”
Everyone laughed again—except me.
“Right. Yes, that was supposed to be funny,” I muttered, voice dry. “Taking from someone else and giving nothing back but humiliation.”
One of the men I didn't recognize, older, with graying temples and too-sharp eyes, chuckled as if I'd made an excellent joke. “That’s how deals are made, Luna. Can’t blame the Alpha if the other side walks away worse off.”
“To lead a pack, it’s not just about strength. You need smarts too. And a thick skin. It’s just business, after all.”
Business. The words sat bitter on my tongue.
What a load of bullshit.
I stared at Landon, who basked in the glow of his own self-importance, clearly enjoying every second of the story he was spinning. Lies. All of it. That still doesn't excuse the fact he’d done such things too, but not as great as he claimed.
It was all about their own entertainment, their own power plays.
“And how do you justify that?” I asked. “When all you do is take? You wait till they’re desperate. You hit them when they’re already down and call it strategy. You think survival is a choice?”
Landon shifted in his chair, but his smile stayed in place. Maybe to taunt me. Yes, that was it.
“Maybe we should change the subject,” he said smoothly. “This seems a little too sensitive for the Luna.”
I laughed—a short, bitter sound. “Oh, shut up. Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your pack pets. I matter more than any of you cowards.”
Silence fell. Landon’s smug expression faltered, probably because Lance stopped eating then.
“I… apologize if I offended you.” It was just to keep face.
“Screw your apologies. Look at you. Sitting here like a goddamn war icon, bragging about the spoils of someone else's suffering. You’re a coward, Alpha Landon. A conqueror without honor. Who is to say you're not just playing right into another’s—”
“Alright,” Lance said, finally. “That’s enough, darling.”
I turned to him, but his eyes were unreadable.
“We’re all friends here,” he continued smoothly. “Let’s eat, drink, and be merry. Politics can wait.”
Maybe that was for the best.
Even my wolf was bristling inside me. She wanted Landon’s head on a pike, his blood on the marble floor. The room seemed to tilt for a moment before I forced myself to breathe. Fuck, I’d lose myself just back then, have been on edge ever since that news.
That was when Miranda returned, her makeup seemed fresh like she just reapplied them. She didn't meet my eyes and settled back beside Landon.
Lance poured wine into my cup like he just hadn’t watched his dinner nearly explode. He didn’t say anything more to me, but his focus returned to Landon.
“So, Alpha Landon,” he said, settling back into his chair, “tell us more about your pack. What are the secrets you keep so tightly locked away?”
Landon blinked. “I… I don’t think there’s much to tell. As you already know, we’re small. Seeking to make a name for ourselves.”
The king hummed, tilting his head slightly. “If your stories are true, you’re certainly on your way. But I’m not talking about victories. I want the skeletons, the soft rot beneath your bed. Tell us about your past Luna. I hear you had one.”
The air thinned.
Why?! What would he?
Landon went still, the corner of his smile twitching, ever so slightly.