Claiming Emerald: Four Alphas At Her Feet
Chapter 71: Waste of Time???

Chapter 71: Waste of Time???

"You look angry," Lucien said coldly. "What’s wrong, Pierce? Upset you’re here while your friends are out there enjoying freedom? You should give up their names. Might make the next few days easier."

The cell was damp and lit with a flickering torch, casting shadows across his sullen face. His wrists were bound, not just with iron cuffs but with wolfsbane-induced ones, to weaken him and block shifting.

"I have nothing to say to you."

"That’s a big statement from a man in shackles."

Emerald stepped forward. "Save yourself, Pierce; just give us a name."

Pierce said nothing.

Lucien stood beside Emerald, arms crossed. "We can stand here all day."

"Then get comfortable," Pierce replied flatly, staring straight ahead. "You can’t break me."

"We don’t have to," Lucien said coldly. "You’ll do that all on your own."

"Let’s try this again," Emerald said, arms folded as she stopped pacing and leaned against the wall of the cell. "Who were you waiting for?"

Pierce stared straight ahead.

Lucien leaned against the wall. "We both know you’re not the brains. You’re a puppet. We just want the puppeteer."

Still nothing.

They spent hours interrogating him. Lucien tried intimidation; Emerald tried strategy. Viola even whispered a few tempting lines about breaking bones, just for fun.

But Pierce said nothing more.

Not a single slip-up.

Emerald leaned on the edge of the cell door, frowning. "He’s too smug. He knows we’re still in the dark."

Lucien didn’t respond. He was watching Pierce, jaw tight, anger simmering low behind his eyes.

After another thirty minutes, Lucien finally turned away. "Let’s go."

Emerald followed him out, the heavy cell door slamming shut behind them. They emerged into daylight, both looking tired and frustrated.

"That was a waste," he muttered.

"No," Emerald said. "That was a signal."

Lucien looked over.

"He may not talk," she added, "but whoever he’s protecting? They’ll panic. He’s the loudest of them all; without their voice, they’ll start feeling the walls closing in on them. That’s when they’ll make mistakes."

Lucien sighed. "We’ll keep our eyes on the council."

Emerald didn’t answer right away. Her mind kept circling back to one specific thing Pierce said.

As they walked the hall toward the inner wing, Emerald asked, "When you overthrew the old Alpha... was his entire bloodline wiped out?"

Lucien didn’t look at her right away. "He had no children... not yet."

"What about cousins? Nieces? Distant blood ties?"

"They were all accounted for, and removed... permanently. We made sure no one with even a hint of a claim was left behind. No survivors. No uprising."

Emerald’s brow creased. "Then why would Pierce say ’the true leader’? Why does he act like someone else still has a rightful claim?"

Lucien exhaled. "It might not be blood. Could be symbolic, maybe someone the council pledged to, someone they chose in secret."

She nodded, slowly. "Someone already within your ranks," she said. "I don’t like the sound of this."

"I don’t either."

They returned to the manor in silence. Emerald went back to her room and took her bath, rinsing off the dust and tension of the dungeons. Her breakfast tray arrived like clockwork.

Talia stepped in, eyes scanning her briefly. "Here you go, Alpha."

"Thanks," Emerald said, sliding into the chair. "Anything new?"

Talia shook her head. "No. Everything’s quiet for now, too quiet, maybe."

Emerald nodded slowly, stirring her tea. "Quiet doesn’t mean safe."

Talia lingered longer than usual, eyes flicking toward the closed door. "Did you find out who the rest are? The other traitors?"

Emerald looked up, but didn’t answer right away. "Not yet. That’s why I need you to keep your ears open."

"What... what happens to them?"

"We’ll deal with that when we know who they are."

Talia didn’t say anything more; she simply bowed and left.

—

That evening, Emerald found Lucien waiting near the side gate.

She smiled. "Ready for another walk?"

He offered his arm. "Gods help me."

Together, they left the estate again, walking side by side through the market and the rest of the pack. It was busier than before, families out with their children, traders shouting prices over their stalls, laughter in the air.

Though people still cast wary glances, the air was noticeably different. There was less suspicion in their stares.

Emerald gave them gentle smiles; some smiled back, others didn’t.

Lucien’s hands were folded behind him, shoulders tense. "They’re still wary."

"It’s not fear anymore," she said. "Just doubt. That’s better than hatred."

He nodded slightly.

They reached a small square in the centre of the town where a group of merchants were arguing over stall space. Lucien stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"I have an announcement," he said loudly.

Voices died down, heads turned.

Lucien raised his voice just enough to carry. "As of tonight, the trade tax for the inner market is reduced by twenty per cent."

There was a moment of silence.

Then the murmur began; some were surprised, others were confused, but a few felt a spark of hope.

A woman from one of the fruit stalls blinked. "For real?"

"Yes," he said. "You’ll see it in tomorrow’s records."

"Does that include local goods?" a man asked.

"Yes. Everything produced within the Midnight Fang territory is now under new tax reform. The details will be posted by morning."

Another man frowned. "What’s the catch?"

"No catch. It’s overdue."

Emerald took a step forward, her smile soft and warm. "He means it. He knows the system’s been broken, and he’s starting to fix it."

Lucien glanced at her.

The woman nodded slowly. "About damn time."

Another merchant muttered, "He’s trying to buy us off."

Lucien heard it, but said nothing.

Emerald leaned in and whispered, "Let them talk. You just give it time."

"I’m not used to being watched like prey."

"Welcome to my life," she muttered.

As they left the square, a little girl handed Emerald a flower. "For you," the girl whispered, then ran back to her mother.

Emerald smiled and tucked the flower into Lucien’s lapel. "See? Progress."

—

They didn’t head back right away.

Lucien took her down an old forest path off the main trail, overgrown with vines and moss. They passed through tall trees until they came to a spot near a quiet brook, where flat rocks created a natural seat by the water.

"This place is beautiful," she said, exhaling.

"I used to come here when I needed to disappear."

She sat down on the largest rock. "You sure have a lot of places when you need to disappear."

"What can I say?"

"Do you think about never coming back?"

"Every damn time."

They were quiet for a few moments, listening to the water and the occasional flutter of bird wings above.

Emerald leaned back. "How were your teenage years like? Let me guess... you were brooding even as a teen."

He mock-glared. "Excuse me?"

"You just scream tortured stoic boy energy."

Lucien snorted. "That’s rich coming from you, Miss I-Knife-First-Talk-Later."

She grinned. "We’re a perfect match."

He smiled gently at her, and for a brief moment, all the pain from the war and betrayal faded away.

Lucien lay back on the grass. Emerald joined him a moment later, arms folded beneath her head.

They listened to the forest, the wind, and a bird somewhere in the branches above.

"I could get used to this," Emerald murmured.

"You could," Lucien said. "Or you could run again."

"Tempting," she whispered.

They didn’t move for a long time.

—

In their quiet peace, Lucien and Emerald didn’t notice the eyes watching from deep within the trees.

A woman stood cloaked in shadow, her features were hidden beneath a veil, but her presence was commanding.

Around her, four rogues crouched low.

She watched Lucien and Emerald with narrowed eyes. "They look comfortable," she murmured.

One of the rogues growled. "We could strike now."

"No." Her voice was soft. "Let them think they’re winning. Let them relax. I’m this close to reclaiming what’s mine. The council is already half under my thumb, and the guard captains follow my word more than his."

She turned to the rogue closest to her. "You will lead the strike."

"Understood."

"I want a clean job," she whispered. "No witnesses. No trail. They must not return alive."