Auctioned to the Cruel King - Chapter 60: Chapter 60

Kayla’s POV
The question hung in the air like smoke, thick and suffocating. Cleo's eyes bore into mine, waiting for an answer that I wasn't sure I wanted to give. But I'd come this far, hadn't I? Might as well see it through.
I met his stare, unbothered. I could feel Alaric watching me from the side, but I didn’t look at him. “To see the wolf who’s got everyone on edge,” I said calmly. “To understand why.”
Something flickered across his face, then he smirked. "Hmm. So you want to know if I'm as crazy as they say I am."
“Well,” I murmured, still holding his gaze and keeping my voice steady, “if you put it that way, it kind of makes your whole plan sound… petty.”
The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Cleo's smile vanished.
Alaric shifted beside me. I didn’t even have to look to know his hand was moving toward mine under the table. A subtle squeeze. A warning. Or maybe a plea to stop, I did.
Cleo’s brow twitched. “Are you calling me petty, my Luna?”
“She didn’t mean that,” Alaric said quickly, his voice measured. “Please, pay her no mind. She may’ve spoken from her own understanding of the situation.”
But that was just the truth of the matter.
Cleo turned to him slowly. “Is that so?” He chuckled, but there was nothing warm in it. “Yet you brought her. The king sent her with you. Fucking coward.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Couldn’t even look me in the eye like a man. Pathetic.”
“The King is not a coward,” I said, louder than I intended.
His sharp eyes swung back to me. “Ohhh,” he grinned, mocking. “Forgive me, my Luna. I forgot you were still here.”
He was toying with me. With both of us. A cat playing with mice it hadn’t quite decided to eat. I didn’t let myself rise to his bait. Not this time. Not when I understand the plans and how to go about it.
Alaric cleared his throat, tension coiling in his voice. “C’mon, Cleo.”
“What?” Cleo blinked. “You wanted a meeting. I’m being honest. You want the truth, don’t you?”
His grin returned, too wide, too full of teeth. “Anyway. Let’s talk business.” He clapped his hands. “But wait—oh, gods forgive me. I’ve been such a terrible host. I haven’t even offered you a drink.”
Alaric lifted a hand. “We’re fine. We had our fill downstairs.”
Cleo’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You sure?”
Alaric nodded. “Very sure.”
Cleo leaned back, then sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright. So. My demand.” His eyes flicked to me, and I could practically see the mask slipping back into place. "This was my ask, though it still baffles me that Vivian couldn't hear me while I was whispering it in her ears." He smirked, and the casual cruelty in his expression made my stomach turn. "Goes to prove the point that pain doesn't exactly make you receptive. When you're in pain, all your body can think about is when the pain will stop. That's my bad on my part."
He stretched his arms before continuing, completely unbothered. “I told her to tell your Alpha this: I want a seat on his council.”
Alaric’s face was blank. He must’ve expected that.
“Not just any seat,” Cleo went on, “but the highest. His right hand. His voice when he’s away. And about… say, a few hectares of sovereign land.”
“Still within the pack borders?” I asked, knowing the first plan has now been removed from the option.
“Of course,” he beamed. “Control over the western district. And an apology. A real one. For all the years of ignoring me. Of treating me like a joke.”
A man like him with council power? With authority over a border district? The pack would be torn apart from the inside within months. What an unhinged bastard he was… clear to say this was the reason Lance totally ignored him.
“You want him to hand you the western gates,” I said softly, buying more time even though I damn as hell don't know where the place was. “A sit in the council and an apology.”
“Exactly,” Cleo smiled, proud. “You get it. Finally, someone who gets it.”
Alaric’s jaw tightened. “Cleo… be reasonable. That’s not a request. That’s a power grab. You know that.”
Cleo blinked, mock-offended. “Why is it unreasonable? He’s the King, isn’t he? He can grant titles. Land. Favor. He’s done it before.”
“It’s not that simple,” Alaric said.
“Then maybe,” Cleo purred, “he shouldn’t have killed that family.”
Silence fell. The air went cold, though the room was warm.
Alaric’s voice was low. “Admittedly, the King is at fault. That night was a tragedy. One he’s never stopped regretting.”
Cleo shrugged. “But the cover-up? Now that was genius. Finding some poor bastard to take the fall. Having the council sentence him to death so the public could sleep at night.”
“That’s not how it went down,” Alaric growled. “You were there. You helped him escape. He was given enough money to start a new life. A better life.”
“Yeah, to live in obscurity." Cleo's laugh was bitter. "Funny how he never made it past the border. I looked at him, having all that cash on him, having been given everything... and what did I get? Besides, he was a drunk and liked to fuck around. Who's to say he wouldn't have pissed away all the money in his first week? He would have been a liability, so I did what any of you were afraid of coming to terms with."
My blood ran cold. I knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth, but that didn't make them any less horrifying.
"I ripped out his heart."
Alaric stayed quiet. My own breath hitched.
Cleo’s voice was eerily calm. “Is that pity I see on your face, Ric? It's a bit late for that. As to the why, ask Vivian.”
I sat there, numb. But something in me—something cold and still—refused to show it.
Cleo shrugged. “That woman is always a few steps ahead," Cleo continued, his voice taking on an almost admiring tone. "If she hadn't thought of asking me to do it, I would have done it anyway. It was bound to happen. Because then it wouldn't be me sitting here asking the King nicely to fulfill my demands—it would be him. So."
He was right, still.
He spread his hands. "What's it gonna be?"
"An apology," Alaric said slowly. "That’s something I can take to the King. But the rest… It’s not going to work. You’re asking too much.”
Cleo narrowed his eyes. “Then what can he offer me?”
Neither of us answered fast enough.
“You’re wasting my time,” he muttered and rose from his chair.
Immediately, several of his men stepped forward, and I saw the glint of steel as they pulled out their daggers. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to remain calm. Panic wouldn't help us now.
I felt Alaric tense beside me. Even with his training, he was outnumbered.
“Wait,” Alaric said quickly, hands slightly raised. “There’s no need for this to escalate.”
“We came to talk,” I added. “We can still talk. Just… give us time. You want a seat? You want sovereignty? Fine. But let’s negotiate. None of us is in a hurry. We're sure to find middle ground to settle things."
Cleo snorted. “No, no, no, no…” His voice was rising, unhinged now. “You’re taking me for a spin. You came here with nothing. No counteroffer. Just empty words. I indulged in this meeting. And now?”
He pointed at us. “Hurt them both. Bad.”
Two men started forward.
“Cleo!” Alaric stepped in front of me, voice urgent. “Please. Don’t make this worse.”
“You're lucky I'm not asking them to kill you both," Cleo snarled. "Just so you can go back to the palace and deliver my message to him."
The men stepped forward, weapons gleaming in the candlelight. This was it. This was how it ended. I’d stretched the conversation enough—
The lights went out.
A thick, swallowing blackness filled the room.
I heard chairs scrape. “What the fuck—?! What’s wrong with the lights?!”
There were murmurs among his men before Cleo snarled. “You. Go check the fuse box."
Footsteps. One of the guards shuffled out.
Alaric shifted beside me. “Cleo—”
"Shut up!" Cleo's voice cracked like a whip. "Shut your mouth! Is this you? Is this an attack?"
Before anyone could answer, the lights flickered back on. I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. The guard who had gone to check the fuse box walked back into the room.
"What happened?" Cleo demanded.
"It's nothing, boss—"
The words died in a wet gurgle. Blood poured from the guard's mouth, and he collapsed to the floor.
There was a horrible, wet sound when he hit.
The room froze.
Cleo’s head whipped around.
One by one, the others dropped—daggers never drawn.
“Who—” Cleo panicked.
In the chaos, he reached for me, his fingers tangling painfully in my hair, yanking me back into his chest.
“WHAT? Who’s there? Who the fuck—?” he shouted.
And then…
Lance’s voice came from the shadows. Like steel sheathed in velvet. “It’s just me, Cleo.”
He stepped from the corner.