Chapter 93 Confrontation
Aelira’s POV
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Time slows as I begin to fall backward down the stairwell. My hand instinctively moves to protect my belly, where my cherished pup is growing. By some miracle, I manage to grip the railing with my other hand, averting what could have been a catastrophic fall.
“What is wrong with you?” I exclaim at Cyrinne, pulling myself to safety while my heart races against my ribs.
Cyrinne’s emerald eyes widen in a facade of innocence. “It was an accident! You were struggling while
I attempted to communicate with you.”
Although her voice conveys concern, the scent of her wolf betrays her true satisfaction. This was
deliberate.
“You shoved me!” I accuse, feeling my wolf bristle beneath my skin, a fierce surge of maternal
protectiveness coursing through me.
“Why would I do such a thing?” Cyrinne tilts her head, her auburn hair spilling over one shoulder. The smile on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. “Unless you’re hiding something that might be of interest to
Alarion?”
A chill runs through my veins. The way she emphasizes her words reveals the truth she knows.
–
“What are you saying?” I strive to keep my voice steady, though my hand remains resting over my belly
protectively.
Cyrinne’s eyes follow the motion, her smile morphing into something cruel. “Isn’t it interesting that I found your name in the obstetrics department at Aethervale Hospital? You’re carrying Alarion’s pup, aren’t you?”
The corridor suddenly feels constricted, and the air grows suffocating. How has she discovered this?
“My medical records are confidential,” I respond, striving to maintain an even tone.
“Nothing regarding Alarion’s heir would be a secret to me,” Cyrinne hisses, her flawless mask slipping to reveal the malice underneath. “If you’re even actually pregnant. And if you are, it’s likely not even
Alarion’s. A bastard pup with no rightful claim.”
Fury ignites inside me, my wolf howling in rage at her words. “Don’t you dare speak about my pup like
that.”
Cyrinne moves closer, her voice dropping to a sinister whisper. “What a pity regarding the stairs.
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Accidents occur to pregnant she–wolves frequently. Especially to clumsy ones such as yourself.”
Her threat is clear. She would harm my unborn pup if she had the chance.
“Keep your distance from me,” I warn, pressing against the wall to create space between us.
“Or what?” Cyrinne sneers. “Will you run to Daelor? Does he even know you are carrying another Alpha’s pup? How pathetic, clinging to him while expecting Alarion’s child. You truly lack any shame.”
Each word cuts deep, yet I won’t let her witness the impact they have on me.
“At least my pup isn’t the result of an affair with my intended mate’s father,” I snap back, feeling a surge of satisfaction when I see her emerald eyes widen in shock.
Cyrinne swiftly regains her composure, her face contorting with rage. “You’re lying. You know nothing.”
“I know everything, Cyrinne. I know about your relationship with Roderic Riven.”
For a fleeting moment, real fear flickers in her eyes. Then her expression hardens.
“You can’t prove it,” she states, her tone cold and calculating once again. “No one will believe you over
- me. I’m a respected healer from an elite lineage. You’re merely a desperate, discarded mate trying to
stir up trouble.”
Something within me fractures. Before I can regain control, my hand strikes her cheek with a sharp
slap that resonates through the stairwell.
Cyrinne stumbles backward, her hand flying to her reddening face. “You bitch!” she yells, lunging
toward me.
She seizes my arm, her nails digging into my skin. In her rage, she nearly loses her balance over the
railing. I take advantage of the moment, gripping her shoulders and holding her unsteadily over the
edge.
“Apologize,” I urge, my voice eerily calm even to myself.
Cyrinne’s eyes widen with real terror as she looks down at the stairs beneath us. Her green eyes flicker back to mine, pleading for mercy.
“I’m sorry,” she breathes, her face drained of color from fear.
“For pushing me? For threatening my pup? Be precise.”
“For everything,” she mutters, her hands clutching my arms with desperation. “Please, Aelira. Consider
my pup.”
The irony of her plea is not lost on me. Just moments earlier, she had threatened my unborn child
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I pull her away from the edge, observing as she sinks against the wall, both hands pressed to her midsection. Her expression twists with what seems to be true pain.
“Are you alright?” Despite everything, I find myself asking. I’m not a monster like her.
Cyrinne meets my gaze, her act of vulnerability slipping back into place with such finesse that I almost
admire her talent.
“Stay away from me,” she retorts, though her voice lacks its previous force. “You’ll regret this.”
I turn to walk away, weary from the altercation and eager to escape her toxicity.
“He’ll never accept you or your illegitimate pup,” Cyrinne calls after me, her tone regaining its malice. “Daelor Briarhallow is using you, just like Alarion did. And when he finds out what a pathetic she–wolf you are, he’ll discard you, too.”
I hesitate, but don’t look back. “You don’t know anything about me or Daelor.”
“But I do know your history,” Cyrinne jibes. “And I wonder what Daelor would think if he learned. everything about perfect little Aelira Sunmere.”
I continue walking, determined not to give her the satisfaction of seeing how her words impact me. What could she possibly know about my past that would matter to Daelor?
Later that day, I received a summons to the manager’s office. As soon as I enter and see Cyrinne. sitting there, looking pale yet triumphant among the cooperative’s executives, I sense something is off.
Barbara, Cyrinne’s aggressive pack representative, steps forward at once. Her sharp features twist with feigned indignation, her impeccably styled black hair framing her face like armor.
“Ms. Sunmere,” she begins, her tone icy and professional. “Ms. Wynthor has reported a grave incident of workplace bullying. She claims you physically assaulted her in the stairwell and nearly shoved her
over the railing.”
I stare at Cyrinne in disbelief. “That’s not what took place.”
“We have witnesses who saw Ms. Wynthor in distress afterward,” Barbara continues, though I suspect that’s likely a fabrication. “This is a serious matter that could involve the Unified Land Registry.”
My department manager appears uneasy, clearly trapped between territorial pack politics and the reality of the situation.
“This could severely tarnish the cooperative’s reputation,” Barbara adds, her threat barely concealed. “Not to mention the potential risk to the trade agreements between our packs.”
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I realize what she is doing – using Cyrinne’s status as Alarion’s chosen mate to frighten the leadership
of the cooperative.
“I didn’t attack her,” I assert. “She shoved me down the stairs. I merely defended myself.”
Cyrinne releases a theatrical sob. “Why would I shove you? I only wanted to have a friendly chat, and you turned on me. You’ve been hostile ever since Alarion picked me over you.”
Her act is impeccable – the quivering lip, the hand protectively resting on her belly, and that look of hurt innocence in her emerald eyes.
“This is absurd,” I state, preparing to exit. “I refuse to stand here and endure these fabrications.”
“Running away again, Aelira?” Cyrinne calls out to me. “Just like you fled from Alarion? Perhaps I
should inform Daelor about your history. All those werewolves before Alarion.”
I freeze, my hand resting on the doorknob. Gradually, I pivot to face her.
“Enough, Cyrinne,” I warn her.
She grins, sensing she has struck a nerve. “I can only imagine how the great Alpha King would react
upon learning the truth about his dear Aelira. Do you think he would still want you then?”
The room falls silent, the executives observing our confrontation with awkward intrigue.
“You’re insane,” I brush her off, even as my heart pounds in my chest. What game is she playing now?
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