The Fake Luna: Marked By The Alpha King

Chapter 112: Chapter 112 Let them live in fear for a while

Damian’s POV

Last night, Vanessa had sent me photos of Aria with another man—Ethan, her Ex, though she didn’t know that.

I’d immediately threatened to destroy every business dealing the Riverside Pack had if she didn’t delete every single image and cease her surveillance.

"You know she’s been seeing other men!" Vanessa’s voice rose with hysteria. "Damian, I know you’ve been hurt before, but you can’t just settle for anyone! She’s not worthy—"

The pen on my desk flew across the room before I could check my temper. It hit the wall with enough force to embed itself in the drywall.

Vanessa flinched, tears spilling down her cheeks.

I never lost control. Never. I’d been raised in the royal pack with ironclad discipline. But hearing her speak about Aria like that made my wolf demand blood.

"Damian, is she really worth this? Worth throwing away everything we—what your pack and mine have built? Over some woman you barely know?"

"Vanessa." My voice dropped to a lethal whisper.

"Listen very carefully. She is my mate. My future Queen. The only reason I’m not ripping your throat out right now is out of respect for what your father once did for mine."

I took a step toward her, letting my Alpha aura flood the room. "But if I hear one more word—one single syllable—slandering her, that respect dies. Understood?"

Her face had gone pale. Smart woman. My wolf was barely leashed.

"That goes for your entire pack," I continued. "If you can’t stomach that reality, then perhaps it’s time we severed all ties between our packs. Permanently."

"Damian, please, don’t do this," she sobbed. "Don’t punish yourself to get back at me. She doesn’t deserve you. She could never—"

"Did I stutter?" I cut her off, my patience evaporating. I reached for my phone, pulling up my attorney’s number.

Vanessa knew me well enough to understand I didn’t bluff. The Riverside Pack wasn’t nearly as financially stable as mine.

They’d invested heavily in our current joint venture, counting on the returns to shore up their territory’s economy.

"Fine! I’m leaving!" She was crying openly now, mascara streaming down her face. "I won’t investigate her anymore. The photos are deleted. All of them. I swear on the pack bond!"

I lowered my phone but didn’t put it away. "Get out."

She practically ran from my office, sobbing into her hands. Through the glass wall, I saw Rick’s expression flicker with something like pity as she fled past him.

He entered cautiously a moment later, probably expecting he’d need to do damage control.

"Don’t allow Vanessa Crane into my office again without explicit prior approval from me directly," I said before he could speak. My voice had returned to its usual cold efficiency.

"And Rick? Once this current project with the Riverside Pack concludes, I want every contract between our organizations terminated. We’re done with them."

"Understood, Alpha." Rick didn’t question it. He knew better.

After he left, I pulled out my phone again, scrolling to another contact. "Rick," I called out before he’d gotten too far.

He stuck his head back in. "Yes, Alpha?"

"I need you to arrange something discreetly." I leaned back in my chair, steepling my fingers. "There’s a paternity test I want conducted. Ethan Holt and the child currently registered under Aria’s name—Marcus. I want definitive proof of their biological relationship."

Rick’s eyebrows rose slightly, but he nodded. "How would you like the results delivered, Alpha?"

"Anonymously. To the Silver Creek Pack house." A cold smile crossed my face. "Make sure it lands in a very public location. The front desk should do nicely."

I’d originally planned to stay out of Aria’s past drama. Let her handle her worthless ex-mate however she saw fit. But they’d made her cry. They’d humiliated her, used her, broken her.

For that, they would pay.

My wolf growled in agreement, the sound rumbling through my chest. They’d hurt what was mine. That couldn’t stand.

"Consider it done, Alpha." Rick’s lips twitched with what might have been approval. "I’ll have our medical contacts handle it discreetly. Ethan Holt won’t know what hit him until it’s too late."

"Perfect." I pulled up the photo on my phone—the one of Aria sleeping peacefully in bed this morning, her light brown hair spread across my pillow, her face relaxed and beautiful.

She’d been through enough. Time for the people who’d hurt her to face some consequences.

And I was very, very good at delivering consequences.

Let them live in fear for a while.