Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 34

Elara’s POV

“Where is he?”

My voice came out raw. Shredded. I didn’t recognize it as my own.

Isolde tilted her head, studying me the way a cat studies a cornered mouse. The lantern light caught the curve of her smile—pristine, practiced, utterly empty.

“Didn’t I just tell you?” She lifted one hand and examined her nails. Perfectly filed. Painted a deep, bloodless rose.

Then, without warning, she struck me.

Her palm connected with my cheekbone with a sickening crack. The sheer force of the blow snapped my head sideways and sent me flying backward. I slammed hard into the stone wall of the academy corridor, the breath knocked from my lungs. Stars burst across my vision, and the sharp, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth.

Isolde shook out her hand casually, looking down at me with pure mockery. “The little boy is lost in the borderlands. The forests there are crawling with hungry, desperate rogues this time of year.”

The image hit me like a physical blow. Valerius. Alone in the dark. Surrounded by trees taller than buildings. The sounds of the forest closing in—snapping branches, low growls, eyes gleaming from the undergrowth. His small body shivering. His gold eyes wide with terror. Calling for me.

Mommy. Mommy, where are you?

Isolde stepped closer. Her perfume was thick and cloying—jasmine and something darker underneath. Something that smelled like rot dressed up as luxury. “The carriage is waiting. You will drive to Mother’s estate, you will kneel before Harold and beg for his forgiveness, and tonight, you will marry him in Mother’s parlor.”

I slid down the wall, my ribs aching from the beating I had taken earlier, my legs shaking too much to hold me. My cracked communication stone was useless in my pocket.

“Ela,” Isolde said, clicking her tongue. “You’re not in a position to negotiate. You never have been.”

She was right. Every time I thought I’d found solid ground, someone pulled it out from under me. I was always one step behind. Always reacting. Never strong enough.

Something cracked inside my chest.

“Fine.” The word fell out of me like a stone dropping into a well. Heavy. Final. Dead. I looked down at the cobblestones, my shoulders caving inward as I whispered my defeat. “I’ll go. I’ll marry Harold. I confess I have failed. Just... please tell me where he is.”

Isolde’s smile widened into something genuinely cruel. “That is my sweet, innocent little Ela. See? This is so much easier when you don’t fight it.”

She leaned down, her lips brushing close to my ear.

“Now, picture it,” she murmured. “Tonight, in Mother’s parlor. Candles lit. Harold waiting at the altar. And afterward, you’ll be in his bed. Sweating. Panting beneath him. Isn’t that a lovely image? My sweet, innocent little Ela, finally learning what she’s good for—”

Something inside me snapped.

Not broke. Snapped. Like a chain pulled past its limit. Like bone giving way under impossible pressure. The sound wasn’t physical—it was deeper than that, somewhere in the marrow of my soul, in the place where my wolf lived.

KILL HER.

Moonlight’s voice exploded through my mind—not a whisper, not a murmur, but a full-throated roar that rattled the inside of my skull like thunder trapped in a jar.

She threatens our pup. She took our pup. KILL HER NOW.

Pain tore through my hands. I gasped, looking down. My fingers were contorting—bones shifting, tendons stretching, nails thickening and curving into razor points. Claws. Dark, gleaming, wickedly sharp. My canines elongated, pressing against the inside of my lips. The taste of blood intensified, but it wasn’t just from the split lip anymore. It was something older. Something feral.

My vision sharpened. Colors drained. The corridor went silver and black, every shadow carved with surgical precision. I could see the individual pores on Isolde’s skin. The faint pulse jumping in her throat. The exact moment her expression shifted from smug satisfaction to pure, naked terror.

“Ela? What are you—”

I moved.

With terrifying, unnatural strength, my clawed hand closed around her throat, and I lifted her straight off the ground. The hem of her designer gown swayed as her feet dangled in the air. Her eyes bulged. Her manicured fingers scrabbled uselessly at my wrist, nails scraping against skin that had gone iron-hard.

“Where.” My voice was not my voice. It was layered—mine and Moonlight’s, braided together into something guttural and ancient. “Where is my son.”

Isolde’s mouth opened. Closed. A strangled wheeze escaped. Her face was turning red. Then purple.

Squeeze harder, Moonlight snarled. Crush her windpipe. Watch the light leave her eyes—

“The b-border—” Isolde choked. Her legs kicked weakly. “Border forest—old logging road—”

“More.”

“Near the—the abandoned sawmill—”

I hurled her sideways.

She hit the display case built into the corridor wall. The impact was catastrophic. Glass exploded outward in a glittering shower. Isolde crashed through the wooden frame and crumpled among the shards, blonde hair tangled with debris, blood streaming from the cuts across her arms and face.

She tried to crawl away. Her hands slipped on the blood-slicked stone.

I grabbed her ankle and dragged her back. My claws sank deeply into her skin until blood welled around my fingertips. She screamed—a high, thin, animal sound.

Yes, Moonlight hissed. More. She deserves MORE.

I flipped Isolde onto her back. Both hands closed tightly around her neck again, pinning her down. Her eyes were wild now—the smug composure completely shattered. Blood streamed down her temples. Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

Kill her. End the threat. Protect the pup.

Moonlight’s frantic, murderous impulse pounded against my skull like waves against a cliff. My claws trembled against Isolde’s skin. One flex of these new, terrible fingers, and her throat would open.

But I had to resist. Valerius needed me alive to save him.

Instead of tearing her throat out, I slammed Isolde’s head against the stone floor. Once. Hard enough to make her eyes roll, leaving a fatal warning.

“If my son has a single scratch on him,” I breathed, my face inches from hers, “I will come back. And I will finish this. Do you understand me, Isolde?”

She whimpered, a thin, keening sound of pure fear.

“Y-yes—”

I released her throat and stood.

The world tilted. The silver-sharp clarity of my vision blurred. My claws were retracting—slowly, painfully, the bones grinding back into their normal shape. My canines shrank.

And then the pain arrived.

The agonizing throbbing in my ribs screamed in protest, compounding with a violent pounding in my head. Every muscle in my body seized simultaneously, punishing me for borrowing strength I didn’t know how to sustain.

My legs went completely limp.

I collapsed onto the cold stone floor of the academy corridor. The lantern light overhead fractured into a thousand spinning fragments as my consciousness began to slip away.

Through the encroaching darkness, a familiar figure rushed into view.

“Elara! ELARA!”

It was Brenna. Her frantic voice calling my name was the very last thing I heard before the darkness swallowed me whole.