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For a few beats, no one so much as moves, and I count to ten. Each second only serves to further infuriate me.
“Xadiel.” At my name, I snap my head past Cain and find my father’s beta walking toward me, dragging one of the younger warriors by the hair. My eyes narrow and he swallows hard, loosening his hold just enough that the young man scrambles away but not out of sight. “I’m here to take—”
“Where the fuck have you been, Timoth?” The power in my voice catches him off guard, and so does the anger. He’s the second-in-command and should’ve been here. His job was my mum’s protection.
“My apologies, Alpha. I wasn’t aware that your father—”
“Where. Were. You? I won’t ask again.” Beside me, the warlock moves, and a foul smell infiltrates my senses. It pulses, tries to touch me, but can’t for some reason. As if there’s a wall blocking him. I reward him by stomping on the hand he moves in a circular pattern atop the now dead grass.
Bones crunch under the force, and his magic retreats in terror.
He should fear me. They all should at the moment.
“Fuck,” the warlock cries out, and I laugh.
“Do that again, and it’ll be your skull the next time.” I pat his head with my hand, nails digging into his scalp until the tips are dripping red once again. Only then do I address the royal pack’s beta. “Now, Timoth. Answer me.”
Just like my father, I’ll never condone the mistreatment of a pack member. We don’t harm our own without justified cause and proof.
“Your father knew I’d be visiting with family today. I’ve been back fifteen minutes at the most but ran my usual perimeter check-in with those on duty.” He pauses for a moment, and I raise a brow for him to continue. “I’m sorry, my king.” An emotion I can’t quite decipher flashes across his expression, a mixture of anger and betrayal, and the two make me look closer at the man.
He’s the son of a former beta, and his bloodline dates to the first Evergreen monarchy.
He’s been my father’s right hand for decades, just as his father was before him.
They’ve been loyal thus far, but that reaction doesn’t sit well with me.
Cain will fill that position in due time.
“What are you apologizing for, Beta?” I put emphasis on his title on purpose. “Do you have a problem with my father’s decision? Do you wish to challenge me?”
Those around us growl at that. Their disapproval is loud and clear.
“Of course not, Alpha. Please don’t take my reactions as such.” Timoth bares his neck, lowering to his knees. The act appeases my wolf and he calms a bit, accepting the respect. “I’m upset because I failed our queen. Had I not taken the time off today, our Luna would be—"
“Good.” I cut him off. Nothing he says changes anything. His posture loses some of its rigidness, though, and that also won’t last long. My next words aren’t just for him, but for all my people. “Because I’d hate to kill someone my parents care about. Understood?”
A challenge is only over once an opponent is dead.
No tapping out. No mercy.
“Yes, Alpha.”
“Now finish answering the question.”
Timoth’s eyes flick to the guard who grows more pallid under his glare. “It’s normal for me to make rounds with those on shift, and all units responded but him. His supervisor even tried, and after no response, we headed to his post. I found him mid-escape, past our southern borders, and with a dead Armand close to his location.”
“I see.” For the briefest moment, my eyes close. Another family member, my uncle, is gone. Aunt Theresa lost her sister and mate. Bloody hell. The ache in my chest intensifies, hurt radiating down to my bones, but I rein all emotions in. They need a leader. My family deserves justice.
“NO!” a female voice cries out then, and I know it’s my aunt. There’s pain and despair, and her wails grow in volume. There’s also the sound of thrashing in someone’s hold, her warning growls coming out near acerbic, yet her eyes are on me when mine snap open. “He’s lying, nephew! Tell me he’s lying!”
“Is Armand dead, Timoth?”
“I’m sorry.” That’s his response, and it’s a shot to my gut to watch my aunt dissolve into nothing. Her limbs go weak. Her tears are a torrent as they soak Martina’s dress as the latter wraps her arms around her.
“Kill him, nephew. Or let me.” A whispered request, and I don’t respond.
There will be no judgement until the truth is uncovered.
