My Alphas' Dark Desires novel Chapter 360

Chapter 360: Betrayed: They Thought I Did It

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Chapter 360

~Dristan’s POV~

I shut my door, leaning against it, my chest aching with emotions I couldn’t quite name, but they were close to a mix of anger, hurt, and betrayal.

They thought I did it.

They actually thought I hurt Marianne. When Principal Whitmore showed me her picture, I realised her instantly.

She was the Merchant’s daughter, the girl whose father had taken Valerie’s necklace.

Back then, all I spared her was a glance, and in fear, she had released the necklace to me.

My mind drifted back to earlier this morning.

I had arrived at school quickly in hopes of making plans for my Guild members for our training plan today, but the next thing I knew, I got a call from Principal Whitmore.

My thoughts hadn’t drifted to this situation when her name flashed across my phone screen. My first thought was probably another drill. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

My second was the rumours, and she needed help in catching the culprit. As an heir, I dealt with cases like this regularly. Instead, on entering Ms Heart’s office, she gave me the ’you’ve gotten into trouble look’, before ushering me in.

Ms. Heart’s voice carried through the door. "Principal, Mr. Alexander is here."

"Send him in," came the immediate reply, calm, but there was something sharp beneath it.

I stepped inside, giving Ms. Heart a curt nod before closing the door quietly behind me. The air in Principal Whitmore’s office felt heavy. She was already standing behind her desk, posture straight, eyes unreadable.

"Good morning, ma’am," I greeted, keeping my tone neutral. "You called for me?"

Her gaze didn’t soften. "Mr. Alexander."

"Yes?"

"Where were you the night before yesterday?" she asked, voice clipped, like she’d rehearsed the question a dozen times already.

I frowned slightly. "Easy. I was at the Alpha’s house with the other heirs."

"Do you have an alibi?"

I nodded, resisting the urge to sigh. "Yes. The other heirs can confirm. We were together in the living room—planning training drills and discussing the inter-pack games."

She studied me silently for what felt like forever. The way her eyes bore into mine reminded me of my father’s interrogation methods—steady, dissecting, waiting for the smallest twitch that could betray guilt.

"Principal Whitmore?" I finally asked, my patience thinning.

Without answering, she moved toward the window, arms folded, her back straight as she stared outside. The morning light framed her like a statue, every bit as cold. When she spoke again, her tone was quieter and more deliberate.

"Do you know Marianne, the Merchant’s daughter?"

The name barely registered at first. I shook my head. "No. Should I?"

She turned then, gesturing to the desk. "Open the file."

I walked closer, the tension in the air thick enough to choke on. A thick manila file sat on the edge of her desk. I flipped it open and froze.

Marianne’s picture stared back at me.

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