Selene didn't rise from her seat. She simply watched me with that amused expression.
"Kael Nightthorne, I'll say it once more. If you want you and your foster-dam to leave this sea-den alive, beat them."
The moment she finished speaking, the crowd erupted.
Some laughed that I could never defeat the Tidefang King. Others cursed me as a worthless Alpha whose mate had taken another wolf to her bed while I was bound here like prey.
Facing all their humiliation and insults, I turned to look at my foster-dam, tears streaming down her face.
"Mother, don't worry. We will walk out of here safely."
But the moment I spoke, the wolf beside her received a signal from Darian. He reached out and tore away her outer robe.
"Well, well! This old she-wolf still has some charm!"
"Look at that smooth, pale skin—no worse than a female in her twenties."
"Come on, I'm placing a wager. They say older Omegas have the most spirit—experience counts, after all!"
"Ha! Yes, yes! We'll bet too. All on the Tidefang King winning. When he wins, that she-wolf is ours."
Those vile, unbearable words reached our ears. My foster-dam tried to end her own life, but the male holding her seized her wrists with brutal force.
My face drained of all color. I had no more useless words to waste. Begging Selene Frostveil would do nothing.
“Very well,” Selene Frostveil announced lazily. “The wager begins.”
She tilted her head, smiling as if granting mercy.
“Kael Nightthorne, don’t say I left you no way out. We’ll play the one game you claim to know best—a Dominance Draw.”
Did I have a choice?
Every path before me had already been sealed by Selene Frostveil.
Silver-threaded restraints pinned me to the stone table. Only one hand was released—just enough for me to flip the bone-cards when ordered.
Selene lifted her goblet and addressed the sea-den with a languid wave of her fingers.
“Everyone here—when he loses, you’re free to enjoy that old she-wolf however you please. I’ll even distribute blood-coin and moonwine afterward.”
A thunderous roar of approval erupted.
The rogues’ eyes burned with feral hunger as they stared at my foster-dam, licking their lips like starving beasts.
Darian Frostveil sat beside the so-called Tidefang King, watching me with open provocation. The scar across his face glistened in the firelight—the mark I had carved into him years ago.