The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate novel Chapter 322

Chapter 322: What Did You Do, Father?

DARKHOWLER - ONE HOUR BEFORE EXECUTION

Agnes barely made it to the basin.

The bile came without warning, acidic and vicious, her body folding over the marble rim. Her knuckles went white against the stone. Her throat burned. Her eyes watered, and the tears were chemical, involuntary, carrying none of the emotion she was saving for later.

She waited until the spasms stopped. Counted to ten. Splashed water on her face with hands that were steady because Agnes Viremont’s hands were always steady, even when the rest of her was falling apart from the inside.

The timing of the message had been surgical. Twenty minutes. Enough to arrive, too little to plan. How her father knew Garrett was gone, how he knew she was alone, how the information reached her at all, she refused to examine. Reginald Viremont had intelligence networks the way other men had hobbies, and the methods were always deniable and the results were always precise.

She pulled a cloak from the hook behind the door. Dark. Nondescript. The kind of garment a future queen wore when she was doing things a queen should never be doing, which was a category Agnes had been living in since the day she took a mark she was using as a weapon and discovered it had become the only honest thing about her.

The corridor was empty. She moved through it the way she moved through every corridor in Darkhowler: with the memorized confidence of a woman who had mapped every guard rotation, every blind spot, every three-minute window where the eastern passage went unwatched because the shift change overlapped with the kitchen delivery.

Garrett would have been proud of the tradecraft. Garrett would also have been furious about the reason for it, which was why Garrett would never know.

The passage emptied into a clearing she recognized. The same clearing. The same trees. The same mineral smell of dark soil and old roots. The sun was barely visible in the afternoon sky, a pale sliver that offered neither light nor opinion.

Her father was already there.

He was never alone.

Two men flanked him, both wearing cloaks that matched the forest so precisely they could have been part of it. A third stood further back, hands at his sides. A mage holding a ward. The formation was escort. The formation was also containment.

Agnes stopped at the edge of the treeline. Every instinct she possessed told her to turn around. Every obligation she carried told her to keep walking.

She kept walking.

"Father."

"Agnes." Reginald Viremont looked at his daughter the way he always looked at his daughter: as an instrument he had built and was checking for damage. "You look unwell."

"I am fine."

His eyes moved over her, clinical and thorough, and whatever he was calculating behind them, he kept. His hands were clasped behind his back.

"Your time playing Darkhowler’s mate is finished."

The words landed on her chest and stayed there.

"I need you elsewhere, Agnes. The window is closing. Garrett Darkhowler has served his purpose, and your presence inside his walls has served mine. What comes next requires you in a different position, and the repositioning begins tonight."

Agnes felt her jaw lock. The muscles in her neck tightened in a sequence she recognized, the sequence that preceded the version of herself that said yes to her father and carried out the assignment and buried the cost somewhere she would never have to look at it.

The sequence completed. The word did not follow.

"I am staying with Garrett."

Reginald’s expression held for one full second. The second was longer than it should have been, because Reginald Viremont processed defiance the way other men processed insults: immediately, completely, and with a plan for correction already forming before the sentence finished landing.

"That was an instruction, Agnes. It was never a choice."

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