The Cursed Alpha Prince's Replacement Bride-Chapter 34: The Welcome Banquet (VIII)

{Third Person}

Amara noticed immediately, and her brows knit slightly. ’What is she doing?’

The dancer reached their table and bowed again, her eyes lifting to meet Alexander’s. A soft smile curved her lips as she moved, subtly drawing attention to herself.

Alexander didn’t return the look. His cold, dismissive gaze flicked to her once before he looked away entirely.

Amara blinked, surprised by the woman’s boldness. Then she shook her head faintly and turned her attention away. This wasn’t her concern.

The performance continued. The dancers moved in synchronization once more, their rhythm tightening, the energy building again. Laughter and low conversations resumed across the banquet.

And then, that same dancer returned to Alexander’s table. This time, she didn’t bow. She just stepped closer than before.

Her movements slowed, her body swaying as she leaned forward slightly—just enough to reveal more than was proper of her cleavage. Her eyes remained fixed on Alexander, her smile unwavering, though a faint tension lingered beneath it.

Amara noticed again. This time, she didn’t look away immediately. ’She is really... audacious,’ she thought, a flicker of unease rising in her chest.

Clearly, she could see that Alexander was furious, and the dancer should have noticed it. Or perhaps she did notice but chose to ignore it, pretending to be blind.

The dancer dipped her fingers slowly into the centre of her cleavage. For a second, it looked like part of the act until she pulled out a delicate flower.

Then, she held it out toward Alexander, her smile soft and expectant.

Time seemed to pause. Then Alexander moved fast. His hand shot forward and seized the back of her head.

A sharp gasp rippled through the nearby tables. Some froze in shock. The dancer’s eyes widened instantly, terror flooding them as her body stiffened.

Amara’s heart lurched. Her breath caught as she turned fully now, her body tensing. No...

Alexander’s grip tightened. His expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes did. It turned dark and cold. And then, he slammed her face into the table.

The sound was sickening. A dull, crushing impact that echoed louder than the music. And her body went limp instantly.

The next second, blood spread across the table in a violent bloom, staining the pristine setting in seconds.

For a moment, no one moved. It was as if everyone’s brain was still registering what just happened. Then chaos erupted.

Gasps. Shouts. Chairs scraping violently against the ground.

Amara screamed, the sound tearing out of her before she could stop it. She recoiled sharply, her body jerking back so suddenly she nearly lost her balance on her seat.

At the royal table, King Sebastian rose halfway from his seat, shock and fury colliding in his expression. Queen Lysandra’s face went pale for a fraction of a second before tightening into something far colder.

"What—"

Neither of them had expected this from Alexander. Not now. Not here.

Across the banquet, the Human ministers were stunned into silence, their faces drained of colour. Some stood halfway, unsure whether to flee or remain.

Lila let out a sharp scream, her composure breaking as she instinctively recoiled. Torin reacted just as quickly, pulling her into him and turning her face into the crook of his neck to shield her from the sight.

Matilda swayed, her hand flying to her chest as her vision blurred. "Anthony—" she whispered weakly, but before she could collapse, Anthony caught her, gripping her tightly.

The music persisted, haunting and detached from the chaos unfolding, as if the performance refused to acknowledge reality.

At the Werewolf side, murmurs exploded into shocked whispers. Zarek, however, was smiling. A low, satisfied chuckle escaped him, barely audible beneath the noise as he lifted his cup once more.

His eyes gleamed as he watched the reactions unfold—the Humans, the court, the King. It was exactly as imagined and planned.

Not far from him, Rowan noticed. His gaze shifted to Zarek, catching that smile. And in that moment, understanding hit.

Rowan closed his eyes briefly and exhaled, a quiet breath leaving him as he reopened them. Even he had been shocked by Alexander’s reaction.

He just never expected that Alexander would lose his cool and kill someone here, of all places.

Meanwhile, Amara’s stomach turned violently.

The metallic scent of blood, the sight of the dancer’s lifeless body slumped against the table, was too much. Her vision blurred as bile rose sharply in her throat.

She gagged. But before she could fully retch, a cold, piercing glance from Alexander landed on her.

Her breath hitched. Fear slammed into her chest so hard that she immediately clamped her hand over her mouth, forcing everything back down. Her eyes darted away from him at once, her body stiff with terror.

Beside her, Alexander showed no reaction. To him, nothing had happened. It was as if a life had not just ended beneath his hand.

Calmly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. With slow, deliberate movements, he wiped his right palm carefully, thoroughly, with an indifferent expression.

Then, without a second thought, he dropped the blood-stained cloth onto the back of the dead dancer’s head, where it rested grotesquely against the table.

That was it—the last thread of King Sebastian’s restraint snapped.

"What is the meaning of this insolence?!" his voice thundered across the banquet, his fury finally unleashed.

He rose to his feet fully now, his gaze locked onto Alexander. "How dare you kill someone in my presence—at a state banquet!"

Alexander didn’t even flinch. He merely lifted his gaze lazily toward his father. "She crossed her bounds," he said flatly. "I do not tolerate misbehaviour directed at me. Therefore, I have no reason to feel apologetic."

The words fell like oil onto fire.

King Sebastian’s face darkened instantly. Then he slammed his palm down on the table. The impact was explosive.

The entire table shattered beneath the force, splitting apart with a deafening crack that silenced everything.

The music died instantly. The dancers dropped into kowtows, trembling. Servants followed suit, pressing themselves to the ground in fear.

Murmurs erupted among the Werewolf officials.

"The Alpha Prince has lost his mind—"

"A monster—"

"No regard for anyone—"

"Who kills someone at a state banquet over such a thing?"

Their voices were low but sharp, filled with anger and disbelief.