The Alpha's Unclaimed Mate-Chapter 112: Every Alpha In A 10 Mile Radius: Mine.

Nightspire’s eyes swept the tent, landing on Serena. His gaze stayed there two seconds too long.

"Nightspire," Fin said. "She’s unconscious. And she’s not going to Orosia."

"I am not going to send her to Orosia. I am a concerned family member." Nightspire’s voice was silk over gravel. "I need to speak with her as soon as she wakes."

"It’ll be a while," Alaric said without looking up.

"Then I’ll speak with whoever is making decisions in her absence." Nightspire’s gaze moved to Dex, then to Fin, then back to Dex. "Fascinating. You’re both still here. I assumed one of you would have killed the other by now."

"The night is young," Dex said.

"He means it," Gavriel commented. "In case that read as a joke. It wasn’t."

"It was a joke," Hyran said, rolling his eyes.

"It was sixty percent not a joke. That’s the part I’d focus on," Gav said.

The tent flap opened again.

King Tiberon stepped through, his presence filling the space the way a storm fills a valley. He saw Nightspire and stopped.

The two men regarded each other.

Alaric pulled out his flask, remembered he’d already finished it, and stared at it for a moment with the expression of a man betrayed by his only friend.

"I became a doctor," he said, "because I was told it would be prestigious."

"Nightspire." Tiberon’s voice could have frozen the lake. "You’re in my camp. In my territory. Standing over my soldier."

"I’m here because I have information that can’t wait for your council’s scheduling preferences." Nightspire didn’t flinch from the King’s stare.

"Then deliver it and leave."

"Viremont escaped."

Tiberon’s face was granite. "When."

"Hours ago, during the Dark Fae attacks. His cell wards were dissolved from the inside. Someone in your camp fed him the ward schematic through the medical transfer protocols." Nightspire paused, letting that sink in. "Convenient timing, wouldn’t you say? Everyone looking at the sky while the real threat walked out through the front door."

The tent flap opened again. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

Garrett Darkhowler filled the entrance.

"Three," Gavriel said, to nobody.

Alaric glanced at him.

"I’m counting entrances," Gavriel said. "We’re at three. I want to see where this goes."

Garrett gave Tiberon a nod. His gaze found Serena on the bed and his jaw tightened.

Then his attention locked onto Nightspire and his entire demeanor changed.

"Riven." Garrett nodded. "Viremont tried to breach Darkhowler territory forty minutes ago."

The room recalibrated.

"He came through a portal. Armed escort. Six men. They hit the eastern perimeter where our patrol rotation has a three-minute gap between shifts." Garrett’s eyes were hard. "My men intercepted them before they cleared the tree line. Viremont wasn’t with the advance party, but his lieutenant was. They were heading for the castle."

"Agnes," Fin said.

"Agnes." Garrett confirmed. His jaw flexed twice. "He knows about our matebond. And based on the questions his men were asking before my guards shut them down, he knows the pregnancy was a lie."

Silence. The kind that reorganized priorities.

Garrett looked at Nightspire. Something passed between them that nobody else in the room could read. "Your territory shares a border with mine. If Viremont’s people used a portal, I need to know it didn’t originate from Nightspire land."

Nightspire’s expression didn’t flicker. "It didn’t. I have no interest in helping Reginald Viremont do anything. His territory won’t have him either so our shared border makes no difference. General Rathmore declared regency and two vassal lords carved off border territories within hours of the arrest."

He paused, letting that land. Then added, "Power vacuums don’t wait for kings to come home, Darkhowler."

"And you backed Rathmore," Tiberon commented to Nightspire. Not a question.

Nightspire didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it either. He let the silence do both.

"Viremont has no seat," Fin said, cutting through the politics. "He tried Darkhowler and got stopped. Where does a displaced king with a vendetta go next?"

"Orosia." Nightspire answered. "My sources tracked him east after his men failed at Darkhowler. He has contacts in Orosia. The kind built on mutual interest."

Dexmon’s jaw tensed. Nobody moved.

"He’s a vindictive man," Nightspire continued, his eyes moving to Fin. "You choked him in front of kings. The camp saw you carrying her. He will go for her to get to you. She also is the reason he was humiliated. He finishes what he starts."

His gaze shifted to Dex.

"He used his own daughter to destabilize Drakenfell with Viper’s Kiss. Though who used whom is up for debate." He paused and looked at Garrett. "And now that daughter has betrayed him, his throne is gone, and the girl he tried to kill is still breathing."

Nightspire looked back at Serena, unconscious on the bed.

"He won’t get near her," Dex said. His voice had that doubled quality again—Aegon close to the surface.

"No?" Nightspire raised an eyebrow. "I hear she was poisoned in your castle. Both by drink and clothing. Tell me is that true?"

"Both by Princess Agnes who was living within the castle." Hyran interjected. "She is gone. And what occurs in Drakenfell is none of your concern."

"Your track record of keeping her safe, is objectively catastrophic," Nightspire remarked.

"What do you want, Nightspire?" Tiberon cut to the chase.

"I want Serena." Nightspire answered bluntly back. "My wards are layered and Viremont has no network within my borders. I can offer her sanctuary until the Orosia threat is neutralized."

Aeron turned to Alaric. "Has anyone in this tent not tried to claim her at this point?"

It wasn’t a question. He was genuinely taking inventory.

Alaric considered it with the detached professionalism of a man reviewing a patient chart. "Hyran."

Aeron looked at Hyran. "Remarkable. The distribution of territorial instinct across packs and rank."

Hyran didn’t look up. "Don’t."

"You want to take her to Nightspire," Fin echoed, voice flat. "No."

Nightspire ignored him. Tiberon stared at Nightspire for a moment, weighing options. "Why would you put your own kingdom at risk, if what you are saying is true?"

"Her mother," Nightspire answered, not flinching. "Her mother was dear to me. I failed to protect her. I will not fail her daughter."

"And Remus has nothing to do with this?" Garrett stepped forward, eyes burning gold at the edges. "I find your motivations difficult to believe considering you’re the one who suggested she was the cause of this war."

"I am not the one you need to worry about," Nightspire answered. "Drakenfell was attacked, was it not?" Nightspire turned his head towards Tiberon. "They will continue to attack until they have her. You understand the cost of keeping a kingdom safe."

Tiberon regarded him for a moment but didn’t answer right away.

"No, absolutely not," Dexmon cut in. "She’s not going anywhere."

Hyran spoke, leaning against the wall arms still crossed. "You want an heir with her blood. She’s the most beautiful woman you’ve seen since her mother. But she won’t be your mistress. So it’ll be Remus. How am I doing?"

The tent was suffocating with tension.

"That would not be of your concern," Nightspire answered, "And it’s odd how specific that was. Specificity usually means projecting one’s own motivations."

Hyran laughed and shook his head. "I’m gay. So no, I have no desire to have an heir with her."

"No, she’s not leaving this camp with you, Nightspire," Tiberon said bluntly. "She’s spoken for."

"If you change your mind, my offer still stands." Nightspire said to Tiberon."There is one other order of business that you should be aware of too."