My Second Chance Mate is a Barbarian (Sera and Fenris) novel Chapter 105

Fenris

“Are you calling my mate a liar?”

Torin shook visibly, unable to maintain eye contact.

"She told me you brought up Blackwater," I continued, ignoring his interruption completely. "She told me you used her ex to try and break her down. You told her I was going to use her and throw her aside."

"It was a political conversation," Torin spat defensively. He shifted on the cot, trying to put a few more inches of space between us. "She took offense to a hard truth. That does not give her the right to shatter my face."

I reached down and grabbed the front of his silk shirt.

I twisted the fabric tightly in my fist, forcing him to lean forward until his ruined face was inches from mine. He gasped, his hands flying up to grip my wrist, but his soft fingers had absolutely no strength.

"You think you understand how this world works because you whisper in a King's ear," I told him, dropping my voice to a rough, vibrating gravel. "You look at her and you see a victim. You think because she took a beating in Blackwater, she is weak. You are a fucking idiot."

Torin stared at me, his chest heaving under my grip.

"She didn't ambush you," I said. "If she wanted to ambush you, you would be dead. She stood in front of you, looked you in the eye, and broke your face because you disrespected her."

"I am an envoy of the crown," Torin choked out.

"And she is the Luna of Ironmaw," I countered instantly. The title felt heavy and completely right on my tongue. "Which means she outranks you. She outranks Elias. And in this territory, she outranks your King."

I let go of his shirt and took a half-step back. Torin slumped against the wall behind the cot, dragging air into his lungs.

"You are lucky she was the one who hit you," I said coldly.

Torin looked up, confused and terrified. "Lucky?"

"If you had said those words to her in front of me," I explained, keeping my tone conversational and completely lethal, "I wouldn't have broken your nose. I would have torn your lower jaw completely off your skull. I would have dragged you out into the snow and let the pack watch you choke on your own tongue."

Torin went stark white under the bruising. The reality of exactly where he was finally pierced through his southern arrogance. He realized Elias couldn't save him. He realized Aldric was hundreds of miles away. He was sitting in a stone room with a man who butchered people for a living.

"Imagine,” I hissed. “You can’t even heal your own wound fast enough for not to hurt. Pathetic!”

Torin looked away.

“You will stay in this room," I ordered him. "You will not attend the pre-wedding feast tonight. You will not show your face in the yard tomorrow when the blood vows are spoken."

Torin kept his head low.

“Look at me!” I demanded.

His head snapped up immediately.

“Did you hear what I said?”

Torin nodded fast.

“Good.” I continued.

"When the sun comes up the day after tomorrow," I continued, "you will pack your chests. You will take Elias and your guards, and you will ride back to Valdris. Tell Aldric whatever you want about his daughter. Tell him she is wild. Tell him she is broken. I do not give a fuck. But if you ever step foot in my territory again…” I held his stare long enough for him to start choking on the silence.

“I will kill you."

"They aren't complaining, Fenris," Yvara clarified, glancing sideways at me. "Vane’s faction is quiet. Kael's household is falling right in line behind Bram. The warriors respect a Luna who can draw blood without asking for permission. She just secured her own footing in the yard."

"She isn't doing it for the yard," I replied.

We reached the main floor. The loud, chaotic sounds of the keep preparing for the feast echoed from the Great Hall. Servants rushed past us carrying massive kegs of ale and stacks of wooden trenchers. The entire fortress was vibrating with a heavy, violent anticipation.

Tomorrow night was the full moon. Tomorrow night, the Valdris princess officially belonged to Ironmaw.

"Are the elders ready for the contracts tonight?" I asked, shifting the subject.

"They are waiting in your den," Yvara confirmed. "Bram is with them. He is playing the part flawlessly. He complains about the draft in the room exactly the way Kael used to."

I gave a grim nod. The illusion was holding. The pack was united. The southern envoy was broken and confined to a cot. Everything was slotting into place with a brutal, efficient precision.

But as I walked toward my den, my mind wasn't on the elders or the political contracts.

It was entirely on the woman sitting behind a locked door in the guest wing. She had taken Torin’s psychological venom, internalized it, and answered it with a closed fist. She was fiercely independent, incredibly proud, and she smelled completely like me.

"Tell the cooks to double the ale for the feast tonight," I told Yvara as we approached the heavy oak doors of the den. "I want the pack celebrating loud enough to shake the dust out of the rafters."

Yvara smirked. "And the Valdris delegation?"

"Let them sit in the noise and realize exactly who they handed over to us," I said.

I pushed the doors open and walked in to face the elders.

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