Betrayed by My Ex, Marked by His Alpha Emperor Brother

Chapter 167

Elara’s POV

"I don’t have a husband," I said through my teeth.

Gary leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. The luminescent glow of the enchantment lamps washed his face pale, deepening the lines around his mouth. He looked like a man who’d practiced disappointment in a mirror until it became permanent.

"Right," he said. "No husband. Sure." He gestured at my face with a lazy flick of his wrist. "Sarah, you look like a domestic violence poster. You know that? Three customers complained yesterday. Three. Said you were standing behind the register looking like you were about to murder somebody."

I set the crate down. Slowly.

"I was stocking shelves, Gary. Not standing behind the register."

"Doesn’t matter. You were visible. People saw your face and got nervous." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "This is a provision shop, not a shelter. I can’t have employees scaring customers."

The enchantment lamp above us buzzed. A faint, persistent whine, like a fly trapped behind glass. I focused on it. Breathed through my nose.

"And then there’s the matter of the crystal register," Gary continued, his voice sliding into something oily and rehearsed. "You still owe me for that."

My stomach tightened. "I don’t owe you anything."

"Two hundred gold coins." He held up two fingers, as if I might not understand the number otherwise. "That’s what the replacement cost. You broke it, you pay for it."

"I didn’t break it. Mia knocked it off the counter when she was—"

"Mia’s been here two years," Gary cut me off. Flat. Final. Like that settled it. "She’s reliable. She’s consistent. And now she’s gone because you made her feel unsafe."

The blood in my veins turned hot. Mia. Sweet, smiling Mia who stole tips from the jar when no one was looking. Mia who took my locker and rifled through my things. Mia who reported me for being late when she’d been the one to switch our shifts without telling me.

"Mia stole from me," I said quietly.

"See, this is what I’m talking about." Gary wagged his finger. "This dramatic nonsense. Accusations. Excuses. You create a hostile environment and then wonder why people don’t want to work with you." He straightened up, puffing his chest like a pigeon on a ledge. "Two hundred gold. You can pay it out of your future paychecks or—"

"No."

The word came out clean. No tremor. No hesitation.

Gary blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I said no."

He laughed. One short bark. "That’s not how this works, Sarah. You broke company property. You owe—"

"I didn’t break anything. Mia did. You know she did because you were standing in the stockroom doorway when it happened. I saw you."

His jaw twitched. Just once. Then the mask came back—smug, unshakable authority. The expression of a small man standing on a very small hill.

"Two hundred gold," he repeated. "Or I dock your pay and write you up. Your choice."

At register three, a customer stood frozen with a bag of dried herbs in her hand, watching us with wide eyes. She looked ready to bolt.

Something dark and quiet shifted in my chest.

Three weeks. That’s how long I’d been training with Flint and his team. Three weeks of being thrown to the mat. Three weeks of learning where the body was weakest—the soft hollow of the throat, the nerve cluster beneath the ear, the fragile architecture of the knee. Flint hadn’t taught me to fight like a knight. He’d taught me to fight like something that wanted to survive at any cost.

Flint’s team didn’t teach honor. They taught damage.

And right now, standing in this luminescent hellscape with Gary puffing his chest at me, I understood for the first time what that training had actually done.

It hadn’t just changed my body. It had changed the machinery behind my eyes. The calculation. The assessment. I looked at Gary and I didn’t see a manager anymore. I saw a collection of vulnerabilities. The exposed throat. The weak left knee he favored when he walked. The way he always stood with his weight on his heels. One sweep. That’s all it would take.

"Gary," I said softly. "Step back."

"Don’t tell me what to—"

I moved.

Not fast. Not wild. Controlled. The way Flint’s team had taught me—smooth, efficient, no wasted motion. My hand found Gary’s throat and locked around it. Not squeezing. Not yet. Just holding. Fingers positioned exactly where Flint had shown me, pressing against the arteries on either side. Enough to make the world go fuzzy at the edges. Enough to remind a body what it needed to stay alive.

Gary’s eyes went wide. His mouth opened. No sound came out.

I walked him backward a few steps. His spine hit the stockroom wall with a dull thud that rattled the shelves. A tin of something rolled off and clattered to the floor.

"Hands down," I said.

His hands dropped to his sides. Not because he chose to. Because his body understood what his brain hadn’t caught up to yet.

I increased the pressure. Just slightly. His face darkened from pink to red.

"On your knees."

He dropped. His knees hit the stone floor hard enough to make him whimper. A thin, wet sound. Like a child’s.

I crouched in front of him. Eye level. Still holding his throat, but lighter now. Enough to breathe. Not enough to feel safe.

"Here’s what’s going to happen," I said. My voice was calm. Almost pleasant. It didn’t sound like mine. "I don’t owe you two hundred gold coins. I don’t owe you anything. I quit."

Tears pooled in his eyes. Actual tears. This man who’d spent a long time docking pay, groping shoulders, leaning too close. Crying.

And I felt—

Power.

Dark. Intoxicating. A rush that started in my chest and spread outward like heat from a forge. This electric certainty that I could break him. That the choice was mine.

Is this what Kaelen felt? Standing in his throne room with his Alpha command rolling off him like a tide? This certainty that the world would bend because you told it to?

I understood it now. Not just the concept. The addiction.

I released his throat and straightened. Pulled the apron over my head and tossed it at him. It hit his chest and slid to the floor.

"One more thing," I said.

He flinched. Full-body.

"The new girl starting next week. Nineteen. Just finished her apprenticeship." I tilted my head. "You’re going to treat her with respect. You’re not going to dock her pay. You’re not going to stand too close. You’re not going to touch her shoulder when you talk to her."

"How—how do you know about—"

"Because I pay attention, Gary." I let each word land like a stone. "I know you’re an incompetent manager. I know your wife left you six months ago. I know you take that out on every woman unfortunate enough to work under you." I paused. "If you call the guards on me, I will expose your pay docking and sexual harassment. And if I hear that new girl’s name come out of anyone’s mouth attached to a complaint about you, I’ll come back. Next time, I won’t let go."

The silence was absolute. Even the enchantment lamp had stopped buzzing.

I turned and walked toward the exit. My boots echoed on the stone floor. Steady. Measured.

I was almost at the door when his voice cracked behind me.

"You’re crazy!" he yelled behind me, his voice trembling with fear trying to disguise itself as anger. "You’re fucking crazy! No wonder your husband hits you!"

I stopped. Slowly turned.

His bluster collapsed in real time, and he immediately took a step back.

"I told you," I said softly and dangerously. "I don’t have a husband."