Chapter 3 Recognising the Supreme Alpha

The lo-fi music resonated through the golden-lit hall, wrapping the grand ballroom in a languid, almost hypnotic rhythm as countless couples danced beneath the glittering chandeliers. Some were genuinely enjoying the music, while others were using the evening for something far more personal—forming fleeting connections, what Martha so casually called a situationship.

After all, in a world where power and wealth could open almost any door, what harm could there be in allowing someone to share a night with an authoritative figure in exchange for a few gold coins and rubies?

Danielle, however, wanted the dance to end as quickly as possible.

The man's intense, soul-sucking stare had been making her increasingly uncomfortable. She had no idea whether werewolves simply possessed such unnervingly predatory gazes or whether this particular man was a special breed of pervert. Either way, every instinct inside her urged caution.

She kept her eyes trained on him, careful not to look away for too long and risk making him suspicious.

Finally, the music slowed.

The last note drifted through the hall, and the couples gradually came to a stop.

The man bowed respectfully before Danielle, though the smug grin tugging at his lips ruined the sincerity of the gesture. Danielle followed the established etiquette and extended her arm, allowing him to press a courteous kiss against the back of her hand.

There were clearly rules everyone was expected to follow in a place like this. Even ordinary civilians knew better than to disregard the customs of a royal ball, especially one hosted under the authority of Alpha Cyrus Rhaziel.

Finally. It's over.

Danielle released a quiet breath.

I can rest assured now. He isn't going to hurt me.

Or at least, she desperately wanted to believe that.

The man's gaze remained fixed upon her face.

He could see the anxiety written plainly across her beautiful features—the tension in her eyes, the guardedness in her expression, the subtle way her body remained prepared to retreat.

And yet, despite seeing her discomfort, he did not seem inclined to back away.

If anything, his determination only grew.

Across the ballroom, Martha was still dancing with the man she had apparently decided was worth her attention. From his immaculate handmade loafers to the heavy signet ring adorning his finger, every detail about him screamed wealth.

A rich Beta Count.

The kingdom of Selene was ruled by the Supreme Alpha, Cyrus Rhaziel, while each state was governed by its own Beta Count, with the social hierarchy beneath them divided among countless ranks and positions.

Danielle narrowed her eyes.

Martha, you absolute fool. What are you even doing?

Her stomach twisted when she watched the Count lean closer to Martha.

How can you let someone touch you so easily? These Betas and Counts are nothing but arrogant perverts.

Then, to Danielle's horror, the Count began leading Martha toward one of the palace exits.

And Martha followed willingly.

With a smile on her face.

Danielle's expression fell.

Come on, girl. You can't possibly trust someone at a ball like this.

She knew exactly why Martha had dressed so carefully tonight. The elaborate gown, the jewelry, the perfectly styled hair—it had never merely been about looking beautiful.

Martha had come here hoping to find someone.

And apparently, she had.

Anyone with half a brain could predict what might happen next. Ball nights in Selene were notorious for unexpected encounters, fleeting romances, fated connections, and the occasional situationship that lasted only until sunrise.

Martha and the Count were hardly a surprise.

But Danielle still couldn't stop worrying.

Her fingers curled slowly into fists.

She wanted nothing more than to march over there and knock some sense into her friend.

But this was not the place for impulsive behavior.

This was Alpha Cyrus Rhaziel's palace.

One reckless outburst could ruin the entire celebration—and the consequences for insulting the royal court would undoubtedly be severe.

So Danielle remained where she was.

Alone.

And completely unaware of the danger approaching from behind.

The man who had danced with her moments earlier had begun moving toward her again.

Danielle didn't notice.

Her thoughts had already drifted elsewhere, consumed by a much more immediate problem.

How am I supposed to get home now?

Martha was gone.

And knowing her, she probably wouldn't return until dawn.

A wave of irritation followed her worry.

She really just left me here.

While Danielle remained lost in thought, the man's senses were becoming increasingly overwhelmed.

Her scent had been intoxicating him throughout their dance.

Now, standing this close, it was nearly unbearable.

Something about her was different.

Something he couldn't explain.

His breathing deepened.

His canines slowly elongated.

He knew the laws.

Werewolves were forbidden from drinking human blood. It was one of the strictest laws established by Alpha Cyrus Rhaziel, created specifically to protect the human population under werewolf rule.

No werewolf was permitted to force a human into a mating bond either. Any mark placed through coercion was considered invalid.

There were countless other regulations designed to prevent forced marriages, forced mating, and abuse of power. These laws were one of the few things that allowed humans to live with some sense of security in a kingdom dominated by werewolves.

The Count knew every one of them.

He simply didn't care enough to stop himself.

Damn it.

His eyes darkened.

She's driving my senses insane.

His jaw tightened.

And I can't seem to restrain myself.

Something about her was undeniably different.

He just didn't know what.

Meanwhile, Danielle was still trapped inside her own thoughts.

If Martha has already left, how am I supposed to get home?

She was so distracted that she failed to notice the man closing the remaining distance between them.

She didn't see his eyes flash a brilliant golden.

She didn't notice his body tense.

She didn't feel the predatory intent that suddenly radiated from him.

And she certainly didn't see his canines lengthen as he prepared to move.

Just one small bite.

His gaze dropped toward her exposed neck.

One taste won't hurt.

He moved.

Far too quickly for a human eye to follow.

But before his teeth could reach her skin—

THUD!

A deafening impact exploded through the ballroom.

The floor seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

A cloud of dust erupted into the air, and startled gasps swept through the hall.

For several heartbeats, no one understood what had happened.

There had only been a blur.

A violent gust.

Then silence.

Confused eyes slowly followed the trail of dust toward the far wall.

And froze.

A massive section of the stone wall had been shattered.

Broken bricks littered the floor.

At the center of the destruction was Lord Hawthorne.

His body had been driven so forcefully into the wall that the stone had collapsed around him, leaving a deep, circular crater.

Danielle's hands flew over her mouth.

Her entire body went rigid.

She couldn't breathe.

The man who had been calmly dancing with her moments ago was now embedded in the wall.

What... happened?

She had no idea who could possess enough strength to do something like that.

Judging by the stunned expressions surrounding her, neither did anyone else.

Then a commanding voice cut through the chaos.

"Lord Hawthorne!"

Curtis—the Beta of Alpha Cyrus—strode toward the damaged wall.

Clad entirely in black, he looked utterly composed despite the pandemonium around him. His expression hardened as he approached the Count, who groaned painfully while attempting to pull himself free.

Curtis's face was filled with restrained fury.

He had failed to protect what belonged to his master.

And that was not a mistake he intended to repeat.

Danielle trembled violently.

She had never experienced anything like this.

The sheer power behind that attack had terrified her.

Thankfully, the long gown concealed her shaking legs. Otherwise, everyone in the ballroom would have witnessed just how frightened she truly was.

Then another voice thundered across the hall.

"How dare you attempt such a reckless act!"

The deep, magnetic voice silenced every remaining whisper.

Every head turned.

Danielle slowly raised her eyes.

The entire ballroom seemed to hold its breath.

Curtis stood before Lord Hawthorne like a living executioner, his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier.

Everyone knew what he represented.

Curtis was not merely the Beta of Alpha Cyrus.

He was the Alpha's direct voice.

His authority was an extension of the Alpha's own.

And if Curtis had condemned Lord Hawthorne, then the Count had effectively received a death sentence.

No one dared challenge it.

One by one, every person in the ballroom lowered themselves.

Men dropped to one knee.

Women bowed deeply, their heads lowered in unquestioning submission.

No one wanted to risk disrespecting the man who spoke on behalf of the Alpha.

Danielle swallowed hard.

She cautiously lifted her gaze.

And for the first time, she saw him.

The man everyone feared.

The Alpha who ruled Selene.

The man whose name alone commanded obedience.

Is... is that him?

Her heart hammered against her ribs.

In her panic and confusion, Danielle had mistaken Curtis for Alpha Cyrus.

She had never seen the Alpha before.

But if this man standing before her possessed such overwhelming authority, then surely he had to be the one.

Across the room, Lord Hawthorne struggled to stand.

His legs shook beneath him as his butler hurried forward to support his weight.

No matter how powerful the Count was, everyone present knew there was one person he could never overpower.

Curtis.

He was the one who had unleashed that devastating blow of air.

The force had been so immense that it had sent a fully grown Beta Count crashing through a stone wall.

And Curtis was not even the Alpha.

Being directly bound to Cyrus granted him abilities blessed by the Moon Goddess. He had been destined to protect the Alpha, serve as his most trusted confidant, and assist in the search for his destined mate.

He was personally trained by Cyrus.

Personally chosen by him.

And personally entrusted with his life.

Which left one terrifying question hanging over everyone in the ballroom.

If the Alpha's most trusted and personally trained confidant possessed this kind of power...

Then just how powerful was King Cyrus Rhaziel himself?