Alpha King Dimitrio.
The carriage rolls to a stately halt in front of the Banquet, its golden wheels glinting in the soft moonlight. The coachman dismounted swiftly, opening the door. Inside, I adjust my regal attire—an ensemble of deep velvet adorned with intricate gold embroidery.
As I step out, my polished boots makes a resolute click against the smooth granite floor. The rich scent of blooming roses from the gardens mingles with the crisp night air. Courtiers and attendants, adorned in their finest, lined the path, bowing deeply as I arrive. I don’t bother to look back at Melissa who is in a red carriage behind me. I don’t know what she looks like at the moment. As a Gevaudan wolf, my anger takes time to leave after it has been riled up.
I admit. I am pissed at how she treated me.
