The Cursed Alpha Prince's Replacement Bride-Chapter 35: The Alpha Prince is Punished

{Third Person}

At the head, King Sebastian’s hand trembled as he pointed at Alexander. For a moment, no words came. His chest rose and fell heavily as he struggled to contain his rage.

Then, slowly, he sat back down. When he spoke again, his voice was controlled, but it carried a weight that silenced the entire hall.

"To our honoured guests from the Human Kingdom... I offer my apologies."

His gaze moved across them, steady, firm. "It is my failure that I did not raise my son properly." He released a breath. "I will provide a proper explanation tomorrow."

Then, with finality, he declared, "This banquet is concluded. Please, return to your residences."

No one hesitated. The Werewolf officials, though clearly dissatisfied, had no choice but to obey. One by one, they rose, bowed to the King and Queen, and began to leave.

The Humans moved even faster. There was no composure left in their departure—only urgency. They hurried out, unwilling to remain a second longer in a place that had just witnessed such brutality.

The dancers scrambled to their feet and fled. Servants followed, desperate to remove themselves from the scene.

Amara could barely stand. Her legs trembled uncontrollably as she pushed herself up from her seat. Her hands shook, her breath uneven, her mind still trapped in that moment—the sound, the blood, the way it had happened so easily.

"Lady Amara." Mrs. Woods’ voice reached her just in time.

The older woman hurried to her side and gently took her hand, steadying her. "Come," she said softly.

Amara didn’t resist. She let herself be guided, her steps unsteady as they made their way out.

Mrs. Woods helped her into the carriage, then climbed in after her, sitting across from her.

"Lady Amara, it’s all right," Mrs. Woods said gently. "You are safe now."

But Amara didn’t respond. Her mind replayed it again. And again. And again. The moment his hand moved. The impact. The blood.

This was the second time she had watched him kill someone as if it meant nothing.

Her throat tightened as tears gathered in her eyes. She sniffed softly, her voice barely above a whisper in her own head.

’He really is a monster...’

—

Back at the banquet grounds, only a few remained. King Sebastian. Queen Lysandra. Alexander. Then, Zarek and Rowan. Their mates had already left.

The silence that followed next was heavy and suffocating.

King Sebastian turned on Alexander without restraint this time. "Do you have any idea what you have done tonight?" he demanded, his voice sharp with anger. "In front of the Human Parliament—"

"She provoked me," Alexander replied, cutting him off without care.

"That does not justify this!" the King snapped. "Even if you found her actions offensive, you do not kill her here! You wait until after the banquet!"

Alexander’s expression didn’t change. "And allow others to think they can provoke me without consequence?" he said calmly. "No."

Queen Lysandra stepped in, her voice laced with controlled fury. "Do you understand the consequences of your actions tonight? Before the Humans?" she demanded.

Alexander ignored her. That only fueled her further.

"I have never seen anyone so bold as to disrespect His Majesty’s presence like this," she continued, her voice rising.

Then she pointed directly at him, her composure cracking. "Only you dare to walk all over our heads as if we are dead!"

That was enough to stir the King’s anger and harden his resolve.

King Sebastian’s temper snapped completely. "Guards!" he barked.

Several rushed forward immediately.

"Hold him down—"

"No need." Alexander’s cold voice echoed as he stood before they could even touch him. Then, without resistance, he stepped down from the raised platform and turned to face his father.

"Proceed." The defiance in that single word only made it worse.

"Bring me a whip," the King ordered.

A guard hurried forward and placed a long, firm whip into his hand.

"Kneel," the King ordered.

Alexander did without hesitation.

The first lash struck. A sharp, brutal crack echoed across the empty banquet grounds. Then another. And another.

Each strike landed with force, tearing into the white fabric of his shirt, staining it red. The sound alone was enough to make even the guards flinch.

But Alexander did not make a sound. His jaw tightened. Though his body tensed, he endured it, all twenty lashes.

Blood seeped through his shirt, his back torn beneath it. His breathing grew heavier, his strength visibly draining, yet he remained upright on his knees. Unyielding.

At the side, Queen Lysandra watched with satisfaction. Zarek’s lips curled faintly, his eyes gleaming with quiet pleasure.

Rowan stood still, his expression unreadable, though something in his gaze had hardened.

Finally, the twentieth lash fell, and the King stopped. With a sharp motion, he threw the whip aside.

His chest rose with heavy breaths as he turned away, his anger still burning. Without another word, he walked out.

Queen Lysandra followed closely behind, unable to fully hide the satisfaction in her expression. Rowan left next, but Zarek lingered for just a moment longer.

His gaze rested on Alexander’s blood-stained figure, and though others might have thought the punishment severe, this wasn’t enough for him.

The banquet grounds fell into an eerie silence after Zarek departed. Only then did Alexander move.

The strength that had held him upright through pride, through sheer will, finally gave way. His body tilted forward, and he caught himself briefly before everything collapsed at once.

He dropped. His breathing came out ragged, uneven, each inhale sharp with pain. The blood soaking through his shirt had begun to cling to his back, and every slight movement pulled at torn flesh.

"Your Highness!"

Jasper was already moving. He rushed forward with a cloak in hand, dropping to one knee beside him.

His expression tightened the moment he caught sight of Alexander’s back. The damage was worse up close—far worse than it had looked from a distance.

His Majesty hadn’t held back. Not even slightly.

Jasper’s jaw clenched, but he said nothing. Carefully, he draped the cloak over Alexander’s shoulders, shielding the wounds and the blood from view as much as possible.

Alexander’s head lowered, his breathing still uneven. Then, through a strained breath, he said quietly, "Take me... back."

Jasper nodded immediately. "Yes, Your Highness."