Chapter 6: Playing the Pawn

Across the room, the sound of tearing fabric cut through the low hum of the hall.

The Alpha on the sofa didn't let go. He gripped Gwen's arm, dragging her down across his knees while the men around him laughed, treating her struggle like an exhibition.

Every instinct screamed at me to cross the floor, to pull her away from his reach.

I took half a step forward.

Stop, Valka snarled in my mind, her tone sharp and unyielding. You cannot save her.

She didn't do anything, I fired back.

She broke their dress code, and they took their excuse, Valka warned. Step into that circle, and you become their next target.

Footsteps approached from behind.

Sybella stopped beside me, her breath ragged, one bruised shoulder pulled tight beneath her ruined slip. She kept her gaze fixed on the crowd, refusing to look at the center of the room.

"You have to move, Wren," she rasped, her voice trembling. "You can't stand here."

I looked at her, at the fresh marks Torin had left on her skin. "Sybella—"

"Find someone," she urged quietly, cutting me off. "Play the game. If you go into that forest without someone looking for you, you won't survive the night."

She was right. The Hunt wasn't an escape; it was an execution disguised as tradition. If an Alpha didn't claim me, I would return home disgraced, or worse, end up in the grip of someone like the beast tearing at Gwen.

I scanned the edge of the hall. Most of the men were crowded around the center, drinking and placing bets, but one stood apart from the pack.

He leaned against the wall near the terrace doors, watching the room with quiet detachment.

Conrad. A high-ranking Alpha from the northern territory.

He wasn't joining the brawl, and he wasn't barking for tributes to entertain him. If I had to place my survival in a stranger's hands tonight, he was the only one who seemed human.

I lifted a drink from a passing tray and smoothed the front of my slip.

Years of etiquette lessons with Mrs. Hobbs kicked in, memories of rigid posture and practiced smiles taking the place of panic. My father had paid for those lessons to groom a proper Beta's daughter; Tonight, they were the only armor I had left.

I crossed the floor with measured steps, letting my expression settle into a calm, confident mask. I stopped an arm's length from him.

"Alpha Conrad," I said smoothly.

His dark eyes flicked down to meet mine, the corner of his mouth curving into an amused smirk. "Wren."

I raised the glass, taking a deliberate sip while holding his gaze.

Before I could lower it, Conrad reached out, his fingers brushing the base of the glass to tip it slightly higher. The cold liquid burned down, dulling the edge of my panic.

"You're a hard one to forget," he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble.

I tilted my head, letting my dark braid fall over one shoulder. "Is it the eyes? People usually mention the eyes."

Conrad caught the end of my braid between two fingers, tossing it gently back. "Not the eyes."

I stepped closer, narrowing the distance between us. "The smile, then?"

"Try again," he said softly.

"Then it must be my figure," I replied with a wry, teasing tilt of my chin, playing the part expected of me.

He chuckled, a rich sound that cut through the noise of the room. His hand came to rest at my waist, steady and unexpectedly gentle.

"It's your defiance, Wren," he said, his tone dropping an octave. "The fight you're trying so hard to hide behind polite manners."

The words hit uncomfortably close.

He saw through the smile, through the lessons, straight down to the girl calculating her odds. Before I could come up with a sharp retort, his expression hardened in an instant.

The warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by cold alertness as his gaze snapped over my head.

"Turn around," he ordered in a sharp, quiet whisper.

"What?"

A sharp cry shattered the conversation behind us.

I turned. In the middle of the room, Gwen's slip was ripped down the front. The Alpha on the sofa had hauled her up, forcing her into his space with brutal indifference while the crowd cheered him on. Her desperate sobs echoed over the laughter.

Rage surged through me. Without thinking, I moved to push past him.

Conrad's grip clamped down on my shoulder like an iron lock, stopping me dead in my tracks.

He spun me around, pulling me flush against his chest and shielding my sight from the center of the hall.

"Don't interfere," he warned, his voice low and fiercely urgent against my ear. "If you step into that, nobody can protect you."