Outside the Throne Room
Luke couldn't stay in one place. Every second ticked by like a blade dragging across his skin. The memory of Bella forcefully dragged by the palace guards, humiliated, accused burned into his mind like wildfire. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stormed down the corridor, eyes wild with desperation. He didn't care about his current appearance. He had to do something as soon as possible.
When he reached the towering doors of the throne room, guarded by two elite werewolves in gold-plated armor, he didn't hesitate. With a choked breath, Luke dropped to his knees with a force that echoed on the palace floors.
"Please!" His voice rang out with a rawness that startled the guards. "Your Majesty—please, I beg of you! Have mercy!"
His palms pressed against the cold floor as he bowed low, his forehead nearly touching the ground.
