Page 87 of Storms of His Wrath

The blade dug in, carving Otenyo’s throat from ear to ear. The soge’s eyes widened in shock, then sputtered, clawing at his neck. Akoro watched him dim as life fled his body like water from a broken vessel. The attempt on his king’s life was already a crime that warranted death, but his threat toward Naya solidified it.

He cleaned his blade with methodical care before sheathing it. The killing brought small satisfaction that this Alpha wasfinally dead. Some betrayals couldn’t be forgiven, some threats couldn’t be tolerated.

But as he turned to leave the chamber, Otenyo’s accusations echoed through his mind with devastating persistence. The blood contract. The abandoned duties. The families who’d grieved while their king pursued distant goals, even if those goals resulted in their ultimate safety.

The walk back through the palace corridors felt like emerging from a nightmare, but the familiar opulence brought no peace. Servants moved through the hallways with efficient purpose, their faces bright with contentment. Guards nodded respectfully as he passed, their loyalty evident in every gesture.

Yet the uncomfortable truth remained. Hehadprioritized his own desires over his people’s immediate needs. Not through malice, but through the same fundamental assumption that had corrupted his ancestors—the belief that his goals justified any cost to others. But then he came back and spent those weeks with Naya in his bedroom, trying to force her to give her heart. He’d even lied to his people—said she was assukkurianOmega, so he could give them an answer while protecting her.

This was the clearest example of what Naya had said about him. Taking everything he’d done with her out of the picture, he’d failed his people. The families who’d lost loved ones in that magical attack, children scarred by burning stone—they’d trusted him to honor his promises, and he’d gambled with sacred vows because his purposes seemed more important than their security.

Standing in corridors built through generations of Sy dominance, Akoro found himself confronting an uncomfortable parallel. His family had ruled through absolute control, believing they alone knew what was best for the region. They’d made unilateral decisions, pursued their own interestswhile convincing themselves they served a greater good, hidden crucial information behind palace walls.

And he’d done the same. Different methods, identical assumptions.

Even now, the woman that had saved them all remained secret. His subjects lived in ignorance of the woman whose sacrifice had protected them, the Omega integration that was transforming their region, the partnership that had accomplished more than conquest ever could. They didn’t know all of the history. The real truths behind the Sy Dynasty.

The realization struck him with painful clarity. True leadership might not be about the ability to command and control at all. Maybe it came from something his ancestors had never understood—the courage to trust others with truth, to share power rather than hoard it, to build partnerships instead of demanding submission.

His people deserved honesty about the choices that had shaped their kingdom. They deserved to know about the woman whose sacrifice had saved them, about the king who was finally learning the difference between conquest and service.

The decision crystallized as he reached his chamber doors. Tomorrow, he would call for a public assembly. Not to issue royal proclamations, but to confess his failures and trust his people with truth.

A heaviness weighted down his heart. If they rejected him for it, if they demanded a ruler who was more honest, then perhaps it was time for someone else to wear the crown.

For the first time in his life, Akoro was ready to choose service over conquest, her happiness over his survival, their welfare over his crown.

The decision should have terrified him. Instead, as he watched the sun set over his kingdom, he felt only the dark satisfaction of a man finally ready to burn down the lies,corruption, and deceit that their history was built on for the woman who owned his soul.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The crowd in the square spread before the palace like an ocean of sun-bronzed faces, thousands of citizens packed beneath the merciless afternoon heat. Naya stood at the back of the raised platform, silk robes clinging to her skin as desert wind carried the mingled scents of humanity—sweat, anticipation, the metallic tang of nervous energy that made her nostrils flare with unease. Every breeze brought Akoro’s scent to her from where he stood at the platform’s center, that devastating blend of Alpha dominance and power that never failed to make her core clench with involuntary hunger.

Even from this distance, she could see the rigid line of his shoulders beneath ceremonial robes that emphasized the breadth of his frame, the predatory stillness that marked him as barely contained violence wrapped in royal silk. Her inner Omega responded to his presence with shameless need, slick already gathering between her thighs despite the growing dread clawing at her chest.

Prillu stood beside her, hands gripping the stone railing as she studied their king with diplomatic intensity. “He dismissed the full council,” she murmured, voice tight with apprehensionthat made Naya’s pulse quicken. “In twenty years of service, I’ve never seen him call assembly without proper consultation.”

Terror jangled in Naya’s stomach as she watched Akoro’s profile—the harsh line of his jaw, dark hair catching desert light like polished obsidian, the way his massive frame dominated the platform with unconscious authority. Her body ached for him with desperate familiarity, remembering the bruising grip of his hands, the way he filled her until breathing became impossible, the possessive growl that rumbled through his chest when she surrendered completely to his claiming.

The crowd fell silent as he raised one hand, thousands of voices dying until only wind across stone remained. Naya watched in fascination as he let the silence stretch, building tension with the masterful timing that had made him legendary among thessukkurian. When he finally spoke, his voice carried across the square with that commanding Alpha tone that made her nipples harden beneath silk.

“Ssukkurian,” he began, the single word resonating with such primal authority that it seemed to vibrate through the very stones beneath their feet. He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the sea of upturned faces with the practiced ease of a man who had commanded attention since childhood. “For twenty years, I have stood before you with victories to celebrate, with promises of glory and strength.”

Another pause, shorter this time, building anticipation like a master musician tuning his instrument. Prillu translated for Naya.

“Today, I stand before you with something far more difficult. Today, I bring you truth.”

His voice dropped on the last word, that subtle modulation that drew every ear closer, made thousands of people lean forward as one. Confused murmurs began to ripple through the crowd, but he let them rise and fall naturally before continuing.

“Six months ago,” he said, his voice building in power with each word, “I made a choice that shattered the sacred trust between king and people. I made a choice that cost innocent lives. I made a choice that revealed me to be the same flawed ruler my bloodline has always produced.”

“Prillu,” Naya whispered, her voice barely audible over the blood rushing in her ears as she watched him weave his confession with devastating skill. “What is he saying?”

The diplomat’s face had dropped, eyes wide with shock as she processed what he was saying. “He’s confessing,” she breathed, her voice cracking with disbelief.

Ice flooded Naya’s veins as understanding crashed over her. This wasn’t just confession—this was oratory as weapon, turned against himself with surgical precision.

“I brought a prisoner into our city,” Akoro continued, his voice carrying easily across the square as he built the rhythm of revelation. “A foreign princess, captured not for justice, but for conquest. Not for your protection, but for my ambition.”

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