The Alpha King And His Chosen Luna novel Chapter 99

No more mercy

(Isla)

I didn’t rush to speak.

They were already where they needed to be, lowered without command, held there by something they couldn’t fight. The weight in the chamber stayed steady, not shifting, not breaking. I let it sit long enough. for them to feel it fully.

Then I spoke.

“You don’t speak unless I allow it,” I said.

My voice didn’t rise, and it didn’t need to. It carried through the chamber without effort, settling into the space they had left open. No one moved against it.

Derek tried anyway.

“Isla,” he said, his voice breaking before he could steady it. “Please, just listen to me.”

“No,” I said.

The word stopped him before anything else could follow. He froze where he was, still lowered, still unable to lift his head fully. This time, I was the one who ended it.

“You don’t get to use my name,” I said.

My gaze stayed on him, not shifting away, not softening. The silence after that pressed harder than anything he had said. He lowered his head further.

“You had years to speak,” I continued. “You had time to see what was happening and choose something different.” My voice stayed even. “You didn’t.”

He didn’t answer.

He couldn’t.

Maren tried next.

“Please,” she said, her voice unsteady, her hands gripping the bench beneath her. “I did what I had to do to keep order.”

I turned my head slightly.

“You don’t speak to me either,” I said.

Her mouth closed instantly.

“You chose position,” I continued. “You chose control, and you chose to keep it even when you knew what it cost.” My gaze held hers for a moment before she dropped it again. “That wasn’t order.”

She didn’t try again.

Clairy

Redan didn’t speak.

“He stayed lowered, his hands tight, his body rigid as if he could still hold something together by force. I

looked at him without moving closer.

“You built this,” I said.

My voice stayed calm, not raised, not sharpened. It didn’t need to be. “You led it, and you allowed it to stand.”

He didn’t look up.

“It ends with you,” I finished.

Torvin shifted against the wall.

The movement was small, but I felt it before I saw it. His breathing changed, uneven, like he was trying to prepare himself to say something. I stepped closer to his cell.

He froze.

“You don’t speak,” I said.

The words reached him before he could open his mouth. His shoulders tightened, then dropped again when he realized he couldn’t push past it. I held his gaze for a second longer than I had with the others.

“You knew exactly what you were doing,” I said.

My voice didn’t change.

“You measured it,” I continued. “You controlled it, and you repeated it because you could.”

His head lowered.

Not slowly.

Not carefully.

It dropped like something had forced it down. I didn’t need to say anything about the chain.

He remembered it.

୮

Brent moved next.

It wasn’t a full movement, just enough to show that something in him hadn’t settled the same way as the others. His head lifted slightly, not fully, not enough to meet my eyes.

“Isla,” he said.

I stepped closer.

“You don’t speak my name,” I said.

He stopped.

The words didn’t come again. His jaw tightened, but it didn’t change anything. I looked at him without

Claint

looking away.

“You didn’t follow anyone,” I said.

My voice stayed level.

“You made your own choices, and you enjoyed them.” I let that sit for a second before continuing. “That’s what you answer for.”

His head dropped again.

This time, it stayed there.

I stepped back.

The chamber didn’t shift the way it had before. It stayed where I had placed it, steady and unmoving. No one tried to speak again.

Good.

I let my gaze move across all of them.

Not quickly.

Not skipping.

Each of them felt it again, not as something new, but as something that hadn’t left. They stayed lowered without being told.

“You already asked for mercy,” I said.

My voice carried through the space without effort. It didn’t soften, and it didn’t rise. It stayed exactly where I placed it.

“You asked when you thought you still had something to offer,” I continued. “You don’t.”

No one answered.

No one tried.

“There’s nothing you can say now that changes anything,” I said. “There’s nothing you can offer that hasn’t already been taken from you.”

I didn’t need to say more.

They understood.

I let the silence return.

Not the kind they had used before. Not the kind that protected them. This one stayed where it belonged, holding them in place instead of hiding them.

I turned away.

I didn’t wait for a response. I didn’t need to see anything else from them. What had needed to be said had

Claun

already been given.

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