Chapter 12
502words
That afternoon, a powerful spiritual force suddenly enveloped the capital's entire upper class. Targeted nobles simultaneously witnessed a semi-transparent virtual stage in their minds—a "spiritual resonance channel" established by Seraphina.
At the center, Seraphina nestled in Damian's arms like the Lunar Goddess herself. They gazed lovingly at each other and, before their captive audience, exchanged a passionate kiss and temporary marking bite.
A meticulously choreographed display of affection—a declaration of ownership.
Genevieve, reading against Alan's chest, was forcibly pulled into this spectacle. Alan noticed instantly. Without changing expression, he released his vast spiritual power, creating a protective barrier around her, blocking any malicious probing.
This let Genevieve watch the crude drama unfold in perfect safety—and with detached boredom.
The performance reached its climax. One of Damian's followers asked through the channel: "Congratulations on reuniting with Miss Seraphina! But what about that other Omega?"
Damian's spiritual energy fluctuated with brutal disdain as he coldly replied:
"Just a tool. Already discarded."
But that wasn't the end.
As the performance concluded, Seraphina's cold, precise spiritual force struck directly at Genevieve like a viper.
"Sister," her voice echoed in everyone's minds, sickeningly sweet, "in one month, the Blackwood Pack will hold our formal mating ceremony. Do come witness my happiness."
A public taunt from the supposed victor.
Genevieve sneered, about to disconnect from this tedious channel when her communication crystal vibrated—Lady Dracott.
"Genevieve!" The voice had abandoned all pretense of gentleness. "You will attend your sister's ceremony! This is a family command!"
"And if I refuse?" Genevieve's tone was ice.
"You have no choice!" Another crystal vibrated as a brutal mental force crashed over her—Lord Dracott. "You disgraceful stain on our bloodline! Being your sister's shadow is the only honor you deserve! If you dare refuse, I'll—"
That familiar, crushing mental pressure from her bloodline engulfed her again. Though she was stronger now, childhood trauma still triggered an instinctive physical response—constricted breathing, sharp pain.
The color drained from her face.
In that moment, a warm hand covered hers. Alan appeared at her side, drawing her into his embrace while taking the roaring communication device.
An Alpha pheromone and mental force—majestic as mountains, vast as oceans—erupted from Alan. It instantly shattered Lord Dracott's pathetic intimidation and sent a crushing counter-pressure through the device.
The roaring abruptly ceased, replaced by fearful, uncontrollable gasping.
"Lord Dracott," Alan's voice was perfectly calm yet carried a deadly chill, "we accept your invitation."
He looked down at Genevieve, her color returning, with a flash of protective fury in his eyes.
"When we arrive, be prepared to welcome my mate—"
He emphasized "my mate" with deliberate precision.
"—and the 'gift' I've prepared especially for your family."
With that, he terminated the connection.
Silence fell over the study. Alan stroked Genevieve's hair like one would comfort a startled cat. He kissed her forehead and, with a dangerous smile playing at his lips, let out a soft, ominous laugh.
