Submission is Not My Style novel Chapter 98

Right now, there are four of us in the royal carriage rumbling toward the Alpha King’s palace. And when I say four, I mean Jack and me–along with Fury and Jasmine.

Surprised?

Jack was too, when Fury insisted on coming. But I wasn’t. I understood immediately. After all, he made me promise not to cry if he ever had to lay down his life for me—so of course he would follow me here. His need to protect me runs deeper than any sense of duty. And now that his memories have returned, I believe he needs this journey just as much as I do. For closure. Something tells me his past is tied to the palace–if not directly to my father, then to the people who serve him.

As for Jasmine… Jack didn’t want to bring her. But he also didn’t want to leave her behind, not when she’s human and so heartbreakingly fragile. That kind of weakness twists his insides in a way I can feel too. Fury was the only one Jack trusted to keep her safe, and since Fury insisted on coming with us, Jack had no choice but to bring Jasmine along. With all the uncertainty –the intrusion of Lady Celestia, the rising threats–we can’t afford to trust a anyone back at the pack house. Jasmine is safer with us, surrounded by those who actually give a damn about her.

1sto

The carriage finally begins to slow, its wheels crunching over the that marks the palace grounds. My heart gives one sharp, jarring beat as the air inside grows tense.

We’ve arrived.

The door opens with a soft creak, and Jack steps out first. The sun breaks through the towering arches above, catching the sleek black of his suit and turning him into something out of a dark fairytale–tall, ruthless, carved from shadow. He turns, extending his hand toward me.

I place my fingers in his, and he holds me as if I’m made of glass though the way his eyes trail over me says otherwise.

“You look lethal,” he murmurs low enough for only me to hear.

I smirk. “Good. I dressed for revenge.”

The deep red gown I wear clings like a second skin, flaring out behind me like a trail of fire. I wore it on purpose. It’s bold and dramatic, a walking middle finger to the family waiting behind those palace walls. Blood–coloured, like a promise. Or a warning.

As my feet touch the stone path leading to the palace gates, my shoulders pull back; my chin lifts.

I’m not here to play the lost daughter.

I’m here to claim my place and make those who tried to kill me pay with their lives.

Behind me, Fury steps down and helps Jasmine out of the carriage. She’s dressed in soft white, her long sleeves delicate as silk, glowing like moonlight beside me. Innocence. Peace. Where I am the storm, she is the calm. But even in her fragile rebirth, she holds her head high. There’s a tremble in her hands, barely visible–but she’s trying. She’s trying to be brave.

Fury adjusts his suit jacket, his eyes flicking toward the looming entrance.

“There are guards everywhere. It feels familiar.”

Jack’s hand finds the small of my back. “You sure about this?”

I arch a brow. “Do I look unsure?”

He gives a low, dark laugh. “No. You look like you’re about to burn the palace down.”

“That’s because I might.”

He leans in, his lips brushing my temple. “Then I’ll hold the match”

I draw a deep breath, grounding myself. Today isn’t just a celebration–it’s the Queen’s birthday. Jack told me more after we opened the invitation together.

BONUS

A grand affair, extended to every Alpha and Luna in the kingdom and territory gathering to pay tribute to the woman who’s ruled beside the King for decades. This is the kind of event that fores treatles and reshapes power.

And us?

We’re the uninvited chaos slipping through the back door.

Jack may have stepped down as Alpha, but with no successor name, he still represents the Blood Fang Pack—at least in appearance. The invitation wasn’t simply tradition.

It was strategy.

I’m certain the Alpha King–my father–used the Queen’s birthday as a convenient excuse. A subtle way to ensure I came to them willingly… instead of forcing their hand to come to

Clever.

1. me.

The moment we step past the towering gates and through the palace, it happens. The guards drop to their knees.

Not one but all of them. Like some unspoken command ripples through the air. Their heads bow low. The silence that follows is eerie as I feel the shift instantly. Their wolves recognise something. Not rank. Not a title. Blood.

Our auras bleed into the space like smoke, thick and heavy, demanding attention. And they respond the only way wolves can to royalty.

Jack stiffens beside me. He’s the future king, after all.

“They’re kneeling…” Jasmine whispers behind me, voice small and awestruck.

I try not to react. Try not to let the storm inside me show. But it’s there, raging just under the surface.

Because I’m about to see her. My mother.

The woman I haven’t laid eyes on since I was a child small enough to fit into her arms, though my memories of her face are hazy and fragmented, like images blurred by time. I won’t lie–I’m curious to see which of her features I inherited, especially since I carry my father’s eyes.

Does she know that the man she chose to rule beside–herm head like a gift to Lady Celestia?

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