Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
LOGAN
A s I walk into the king’s private office for our daily meeting, I stop short upon seeing inquisitor Thane reclining next to him in a high-backed chair.
Leopold sits behind his massive desk, his face set in stone. On the desk before him lies a small yellow pill, identical to the ones we found after Maya’s heat.
“Sit,” my father commands.
I take a seat across from him, acutely aware of Thane settling into the chair beside me. The Inquisitor’s presence makes this more than just a routine meeting—something has happened, something serious enough to warrant his involvement.
“We have made significant progress in our investigation into Ander’s death,” my father announces without preamble. “The Inquisitor believes we are close to making an arrest.”
I force my expression to remain neutral despite the panic flaring in my chest. “That’s...good news.”
“Is it?” My father’s gaze bores into me.
I keep my breathing even, my face composed. Years of palace politics have taught me to hide my reactions, but I’ve never had to mask them from my father. He knows me too well.
My eyes drift to the yellow pill on the desk. “What’s that?”
The king glances at it as if surprised to find it there. “This? A sample seized during a raid at the border.”
“An unrelated matter,” Thane interjects smoothly. “We’ve discovered these pills contain a compound that mimics Omega heat hormones. They’ve been circulating through the underground market for some time.”
I frown, studying the pill more closely. It looks exactly like the ones from the basement—the ones Maya took before her unexpected heat. The connection is impossible to ignore, but I can’t reveal that I recognize them without raising questions I’m not prepared to answer.
The king smoothly interrupts, his hand dismissively cutting through the air between us. “We have more pressing matters to discuss at the moment.” He retrieves a tablet from the corner of his desk and slides it across to me. “Take a look at this.”
I pick the tablet, expecting to see some report on border security or perhaps the final plans for my official coronation as heir. Instead, my blood runs cold as I stare at the image on the screen.
It’s me. Naked. Gagged. Bound spread-eagle to my own bed with what appears to be my own belts.
The headline above the still image reads: ROYAL SUBMISSION: ALPHA HEIR LIKES TO BE DOMINATED IN BEDROOM.
I can’t breathe. Can’t think. Can’t process what I’m seeing. My fingers tighten on the tablet’s edges as I force myself to maintain a neutral expression despite the roaring in my ears.
“What is this?” I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.
The king watches me with an unreadable expression, fingers steepled before him. “This, my son, is what would have been the lead story in tomorrow’s Royal Observer. An exclusive breaking news piece featuring video footage of the newly named heir to the throne in a rather compromising position.”
I stare at the image, trying to make sense of it. I have no memory of this. None whatsoever. The last thing I remember from last night was drinking with my pack, Maya bringing us refills, and then nothing.
“I don’t—” I trail off, the implications settling like lead in my stomach. “When was this taken?”
“Last night, according to the metadata,” Thane supplies, his clinical tone making my skin crawl. “The journalist claims to have received the footage anonymously.”
I look up sharply at my father. “You’ve seen the full video?”
The king’s mouth thins into a disapproving line. “Enough to confirm its authenticity.”
The shame burning through me is quickly replaced by a cold, calculating rage. Someone did this to me. Someone stripped me, bound me, and filmed it—all while I was unconscious. And I have a sickening suspicion I know exactly who.
“Where is it now?” I ask, careful to keep my voice steady. “The video.”
“Destroyed,” my father replies. “I’ve had Belinda Farrow brought in and properly persuaded not to publish. Her editor as well. The original file has been deleted from their servers.”
Relief washes through me, quickly followed by a new wave of dread. If my father hadn’t intervened, this would be public knowledge by morning. My authority, my claim to the throne, my very identity as an Alpha—all destroyed by a single video.
“Of course, one can never be certain in the digital age that all copies have been destroyed,” Thane adds with what almost sounds like satisfaction. “These sorts of things have a way of resurfacing at opportune moments.”
The implied threat hangs in the air between us. The king ignores it, his focus entirely on me.
“I should be grateful,” my father says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your performance at the royal games did not go unnoticed. You proved yourself worthy of being my heir.”
The tablet with the damning image sits heavily in my hands. My father’s words should be reassuring, but the undercurrent of disapproval is unmistakable.
“I’ve taken steps to contain this situation,” he continues, his voice hardening. “But let me be clear: this is the only time I will intervene in such matters. You need to get your house in order, Logan.”
I nod stiffly, fury building beneath my carefully composed expression. “Thank you, Father. It won’t happen again.”
The king’s eyes narrow, studying me with the same calculating gaze he uses on foreign diplomats. “See that it doesn’t. The coronation is too close for scandals of this nature.”
He slides another tablet toward me, this one displaying a string of numbers and letters. “The identity tag of the console that uploaded the video. I suggest you begin your investigation there.”
I commit the code to memory immediately. It’s a palace security signature, one that will lead me directly to the source of this betrayal.
My father leans back in his chair, a strange smile playing at his lips. “I must say, if I were a few decades younger, I might have claimed that Omega of yours for myself.” His laugh is sharp and cold. “Based on what I saw in that footage, she’s quite inventive.”
The implication hangs in the air between us. My father saw Maya violating me while I was unconscious. The humiliation burns hotter than any physical pain I’ve ever endured.
“Is there anything else, Your Majesty?” I manage through gritted teeth.
“That will be all,” he dismisses me with a wave. “Don’t disappoint me again.”
I bow stiffly and exit the room, my composure maintained by sheer force of will. The moment the heavy door closes behind me, something inside me snaps.
With a roar that tears from my throat, I overturn a decorative table in the hallway. The antique vase that has stood there for generations shatters against the marble floor, the sound echoing my fractured control.
Palace guards stationed nearby studiously look away, pretending not to notice their prince’s breakdown. My lack of confidence in their discretion is the only thing keeping me from destroying every piece of furniture in the corridor.
I pull out my personal tablet with trembling hands, navigating to the palace security database. The identity tag my father provided is easy enough to cross-reference.
When the match appears on my screen, my blood turns to ice in my veins.
The video was uploaded from Ares’s security console in our apartment.
Looks like I need to have a little chat with my head of security.