The Villain Alpha's Cursed Mate-Chapter 191: Don’t Ruin It For Her

The great hall was illuminated by flickering torches mounted on stone pillars, their flames casting shifting shadows across the chamber. The long, oak tables, which usually dominated the space, had been pushed aside to create a broad expanse for the gathered warriors.

The Northern warriors stood in stark contrast to the warriors of the Damned, their ranks visibly divided by centuries of mistrust. At the far end of the hall, a very well-adorned seat similar to that of a throne loomed on a raised dais, a silent emblem of authority and judgment.

Esme stood tall on the dais, her figure framed by the faint glow of the torchlight. Her composure was steady, though her heart beat like a war drum. Where she had found the strength to command this moment, she hardly knew. But one thing burned clear in her mind; this had to be done, and she would see it through.

"I have gathered you here today because there is something critical I must address," she began, maintaining the firmness in her voice as it carried through the hall. "From tomorrow, the warriors of the Damned will join their Northern counterparts on the training ground. Whatever differences you hold, must be set aside. I’m certain you’ve heard about the devastation in the East— of villages razed, lives taken, and families destroyed. It’s a tragedy, yes, but also a warning."

She let her words linger, the weight of them sinking into the crowd like stones in water. "The enemy is constantly building an army, a force powerful enough to annihilate an entire region in one sweep. If we do not act, if we allow pride and division to rule us, they will build an army capable of wiping all of Illyria. We cannot afford that risk, and we will not."

At Esme’s words, the warriors exchanged wary glances, their unease evident in the shifting silence that followed. Unbothered, Esme simply gestured for Lothario and Revana to join her on the dais.

The two stepped forward, bowing respectfully before taking their places on either side of her. They stood tall and at ease, hands folded behind their backs as their presence commanded the attention of other warriors.

"These are Lothario and Revana," Esme said. "They serve as the betas of their pack, each highly skilled in swordsmanship. Both have mastered numerous techniques and are prepared to assist you, assist us. They can also provide access to weapons that will give us an edge in combating the demons that roam Illyria."

Without pause, Esme called for Acheron and Althea to step forward. The pair ascended the dais swiftly, their movements fluid and humble. "This is Acheron, the gamma of their pack, and Althea, an exceptional archer. Both their skills in bow and arrow are unmatched. Their expertise is invaluable. I believe if we set aside our differences and work together, we can learn much from one another."

Her calculating gaze swept over the gathered warriors, her tone firm yet imploring. "Remember, we are not your enemies unless you give us a reason to be one. Our shared purpose is to restore our home to its former peace and glory. Treat them with respect, just as you would any warrior fighting for the same cause. I ask for this, so kindly heed to them."

"Why should we listen to you?" One of the warriors demanded, his voice laced with disdain as he stepped forward. He was the knight commander in charge of the Northern warriors, hence, he had more authority to speak up. His lips curled into a sneer, whilst the tension in the room sharpened with his words.

"Respect, you say?" he almost laughed. "You expect us to respect them— these.... abominations? Look at them! Mark and cursed like the damned souls that they are. While we fought for honor, they slithered in the dark, consumed by whatever filth gave them those runes. What could devils like them possibly teach us? How to barter away our souls? We know you are one of them, and that is why you’re constantly siding with them."

The scornful laughter of a few warriors rippled through the crowd, emboldening another to speak. "Perhaps they’ll teach us how to decay from within– or how to turn our blades against our own blood. Betrayal and ruin follow them like a stench. Had they escaped with the serum, we would have been defenseless on that night the demon wolves attacked! We’d be lying in shallow graves by now!"

Acheron’s fist tightened behind his back, his anger simmering beneath his stoic exterior as their poisonous words echoed in his ear. He instinctively stepped forward, but a firm hand on his arm stopped him from saying anything in pure retaliation. Althea stood beside him, and she shook her head, urging him to hold his ground while Esme handled it. If they were to react, it’d give the Northern warriors another reason to doubt them.

Getting the message, Acheron simply followed Althea’s silent cautioning.

However, Esme was an entirely different case. Her gaze hardened as she listened to the warriors speak ill about the same people who risked their lives to save them. Her voice finally cut through the tense murmurs exchanged among the Northern warriors. "Have you all forgotten who’s standing in front of you?"

The knight commander who had stepped forward earlier expressed his defiance. "We see you, but you are clearly not our Luna," he spat with disdain. "You speak of unity as though your empty words can mend centuries of betrayal, but it takes more than that. Don’t insult us with your polished speeches. You need us far more than we need you. Without us, you’d be nothing more than a widow with a—"

CRACK!

The sound of the slap reverberated across the room, silencing every voice. The knight commander froze, his words swallowed by the shock as the sting of Esme’s hands burned across his cheek. He hadn’t even registered her swift approach until the blow landed, a clear testament to her resolve.

Esme stood firm, her palm tingling, satisfaction flickering in her eyes as she watched the stunned expression on his face. Clearly, no one had expected her to react that way, but she was glad that she did. In fact, she was happy that she finally did something she only imagined she could ever bring herself to do, and gone was any pretense of leniency.

"Have you finally calmed down?" she asked coolly, her voice steady despite the anger simmering beneath. She noticed the fury blazing in the knight commander’s eyes, but she pressed on, not sparing him another second.

"You think your suffering grants you the right to scorn others who’ve bled differently than you?" she challenged, her words cutting deep. "Let me do you a favor by reminding you that survival is not the same as victory. Yes, you survived... you all survived— but tell me, at what cost? And with whose help?" her gaze swept over the gathered warriors, each of them silent under the weight of her words.

"Even with the lycobane serum, you would have fallen. That’s the truth, whether you want to admit it or not. None of you were prepared for that attack, and without outside aid, you wouldn’t be standing here today. You blame us for trying to steal the serum, but let’s not lie to ourselves here. Those serums were made to harm us, not the enemy. You expect us to fold our arms while you take actions that might risk our lives? This is what I’m talking about, but clearly none of you here have enough mental capacity to understand what I’ve been saying, so please, spare me your arrogance and misguided pride."

Esme eyed the knight commander in front of her before returning her attention to the warriors of the North. "These warriors you see before you stand here today despite the knowledge that their loyalty might invite scorn and criticism. I brought them here, and they honored me enough to follow. If you cannot muster the respect their sacrifice deserves, then at the very least, hold your dirty tongues. I am Esmeray Montague, the daughter of Alpha Damon Montague, and I am your new Luna. You will address me as such, or face the consequences that will make you regret your insolence."

Her voice turned glacial as she carried on, her words slicing through the tense air like a sharpened blade. "Unity is not a sign of weakness— it is the mark of unshakable strength born from diversity. If anyone among you believes themselves too proud, or too pure for this alliance, you are free to leave. I will not entertain arrogance, nor will I allow discord to fester under my leadership. So choose your words– and your actions– wisely when addressing me."

The knight commander she had struck remained silent, stunned into submission. The whispers from the North had painted their new Luna as a fragile figure, a woman of little strength or resolve. But the stinging slap he had just received dispelled such notions. Whatever he had expected, it was not this. Looks can indeed be deceiving.

Finnian’s eyes widened in awe as he watched his sister, feeling proud. His friends exchanged satisfied glances, cause even they were getting tired of these proud warriors. The warriors of the Damned turned their attention to Esme, their gazes filled with newfound respect. Yet Esme noticed none of it. She was too busy facing the North while also waiting for anyone to dare her. Acheron and Lothar were also ready to break anyone who touched her.

Taking a steadying breath when she was done venting, Esme smoothed the folds of her skirt and lifted her chin, a calm yet resolute smile gracing her lips. "Now that this is settled, we are all in agreement, aren’t we?"

The warrior’s, who couldn’t understand the unexpected shift in her reaction, frantically nodded in response. They felt compelled to do so, and the corner of Esme’s lips curved satisfyingly.

"Starting tomorrow," she began softly. "They will join you in training. Beta Lothar and beta Revana will oversee the entire process as they will be the one conducting the training. Let today mark the beginning of something far greater than any one of us. The warriors of the Damned have endured trials that would have shattered others; their strength and resilience is unquestionable. Likewise, the Northern warriors have upheld our honor and integrity till date. Please, treat one another with respect, and the moon goddess will reward you for it."

The Northern warriors dared not defy. They bowed their heads respectfully after she was done, and Esme finally dismissed everyone with a slight wave of her hand. Even she herself needed a moment to recover from all of that.

From the corner of the room, Marissa, perched beside her mother, practically burst forward the moment Esme sunk down on her seat to gather her thoughts. Her face lit with uncontainable excitement as she rushed to Esme’s side, starting her with her presence.

"I loved your speech!" The girl exclaimed. "Can I be a warrior here too?"

Esme’s awed expression softened into a gentle smile, and she pretended to think about it before speaking, her tone warm and encouraging. "Perhaps one day. You see, a warrior needs strength, courage, and a kind heart. Qualities I think you already possess."

"Really?" Marissa’s blue eyes dilated in wonders, making Esme chuckle.

Behind them, Lady Arabella lingered, her stance hesitant and her hands clasped tightly. Her unease was palpable, and it only deepened as a quiet presence appeared at her side.

"When you think about it," Donovan murmured, his voice low and reflective. "Esme always had the will to lead. She just needed a reminder. Don’t ruin it for her, or you’ll have me to deal with."

He cast Lady Arabella a strange glance before he walked up to Esme.