Chapter 3 A hound slave
Amidst a thick tension that hung in the air, Ryker strode forward, dragging Evyths behind him by the chain that bound them. Her curiosity pulsed like a heartbeat as they approached the grand entrance, flanked by the other Alphas and their packs.
Selena matched Ryker’s pace, her brow furrowed with confusion as they approached what should have been an event reserved for their kind. “Why are the vampires here?” she questioned, her voice low but urgent. “Isn’t this a gathering meant for werewolves?”
Evyths chimed in, her voice laced with a hint of anxiety. “I don’t have any idea, Selene! The king hasn’t said a word about it, and we’re all in the dark,” Ryker replied, trying to maintain his calm as uncertainty gnawed at him.
Evyths felt a chill creep along her spine. The mere presence of their sworn enemies at such a crucial meeting could only mean trouble was on the horizon.
As the hall began to fill with the Alphas, Betas, Gammas, enforcers, and pack elders, the vampires made their entrance, gliding in with an air of detachment. They took their seats close to the Alpha king and the elders, seamlessly blending into the gathering that felt almost electric with apprehension.
The room was thick with a scent reminiscent of damp earth and charred wood; torches flickered in every corner of the throne room, casting ghostly shadows on the polished stone walls.
Seated with his pack, Ryker motioned for Evyths to kneel beside him as the meeting commenced. Hours slipped by like grains of sand; her knees trembled with fatigue, her wrists and neck raw from the constraints that bound her. Each agonizing pulse of pain reminded her that she was more than just a bystander in this gathering; she was a pawn in a dangerous game.
At the throne, the Vampire King, Bathory Belmont, and the Alpha King leaned toward each other, their voices laced with the weight of a dilemma that brought traditional enemies together.
“What do you seek from us, Leon?” Bathory inquired, his tone commanding as he studied the Alpha king, who radiated an undeniable aura of power.
The urgency in the air was palpable. Werewolves had been falling victim to venomous wolfbane, a peril that had escalated into devastation when the Alpha king’s brother—a revered pack elder—met his demise.
“A truce,” Leon declared.
Murmurs rippled through the hall, rising like a tide of alarm.
“The king has lost his mind,” Ryker hissed under his breath, his expression a mix of disbelief and frustration.
“Silence!” the Alpha King demanded, and the room fell into a heavy hush, a blanket of gravity settling over the gathering.
“We shall pursue this truce!” he reaffirmed, his dark gaze sweeping over the assembly before landing squarely on Bathory.
“This unlikely alliance has emerged at a time of desperation. Bathory and I have exchanged missives since the beginning of Luna month. We face a shared enemy—the hunters!” he proclaimed, the echo of his voice hanging ominously in the still air, leaving every werewolf gripped with unease.
“The terms of our truce are straightforward: the vampires possess ancient knowledge that could be invaluable… to our kind,” Leon continued, his voice steady and assertive. “In exchange, if Bathory can provide something of equal significance, we will lay down our swords and join forces, at least for a time.”
Bathory’s sharp eyes bore into Leon as he contemplated the proposal. Meanwhile, his son, Prince Valerio D’Arcy Belmont, surveyed the assembly with a cold, calculating glance, his presence both menacing and regal.
The murmurs began again as Bathory broke the silence. “As the leader of my clan, I accept your proposal. However, our terms are clear. You must vow to protect our territory—no hunting on our land.”
A wave of discontent rippled through the crowd. Alphas whispered amongst themselves, skepticism etched in their expressions.
“The coven cannot be trusted,” Ryker interjected, rising to his feet, his voice steady yet forceful. “They are cunning!” The fervent agreement from the other Alphas erupted into a chorus of howls, their emotions palpable as Evyths watched the sea of werewolves rally together, their unity cracking the silence.
“Your majesty,” Selena implored, her grip tightening on her dress, “the vampires have a reputation for deception. Should we agree to this truce, how can we be certain they won’t betray us? A vampire will do anything to avoid their fate.” Her words were delivered with a bravery that had carved out her place in moments like these.
“The beta raises a legitimate concern, your majesty. The vampires have proven themselves untrustworthy,” a gamma chimed in, urgency lacing his tone.
Just as tensions began to boil, Prince Valerio D’Arcy stood up to speak for the first time. His cold demeanor, often perceived as ominous, drew wary glances from the werewolves. Clad in lavish fabrics that accentuated his noble lineage, he made an imposing figure in the room, radiating the aura of a predator among prey.
The stage was set for a confrontation that would determine the fate of their worlds at a given cost.
“King Leon, may I?” Valerio asked, his voice laced with keen interest as Leon motioned with a nod, granting him the go-ahead.
“We may be cunning in nature, but we hold honor in high esteem. If the werewolves uphold their end of the bargain, so will the vampires. This is, after all, more advantageous for you than for us…” Valerio stated, his calm and icy tone concealing the hidden motives that hinted at his cunning intelligence.
Ryker erupted into uproarious laughter, interrupting the tension in the room as he rose from his seat, heading toward the prince with an unsteady swagger.
Dragging Evyths behind him like a hound owner showcasing a prized catch, he drew the eyes of everyone present. The act was notorious, a clear indication that Evyths had erred in a manner that warranted punishment, though the specifics remained a mystery to many.
In their tradition, such displays signified strength—questioned only by the Alpha king himself, should he choose to intervene.
“You stand there, cloaked in garments that make you appear rather bratty while you discuss a bargain?” Ryker lashed out, his voice dripping with disdain as his grip tightened around the chain that linked him to Evyths. “Tell me, what did you offer when our packs were managing livestock control?” he challenged Valerio, his robe shifting with undeniable menace. “Chaos!” he exclaimed, punctuating his accusation.
Valerio’s lips curled into an almost invisible smirk as he drifted closer to Ryker, seemingly unfazed by the escalating tension.
Around them, werewolves and vampires rose with contempt, poised to defend their kin, but Valerio was acutely aware that a war would be futile without a solid strategy in place.
“Not even you were born at that time,” Valerio said, his voice flat yet charged with an unsettling intensity. “When your mother fell victim to the wolfbane, what was your response?” he probed Ryker, who was ready to erupt. “Nothing!” Valerio declared, casting a sharp, condescending gaze.
“You should recognize the peril in challenging me, Rockwell!” Valerio asserted, his words crawling with an ominous warning.
“Ryker? Stand down!” Leon commanded, and though wavering, Ryker reluctantly stepped back, his fists trembling with barely contained anger, a transformation only at bay by sheer willpower.
Valerio observed Ryker’s restrained fury with satisfaction, noting the dance of rage within him.
“Dogs will always be dogs,” Valerio muttered under his breath, stoking the fire of Ryker’s restraint.
Ryker battled internally, wrestling with the order while obeying his king.
Meanwhile, Valerio’s gaze settled on Evyths, who was enduring a torment that stemmed from choices she could not undo. The cruel Alpha, who could have been her mate had she not rejected his claim, haunted her thoughts.
This grim reality brought her a twisted sense of relief, yet the shadow of impending doom loomed overhead. She awaited her fate with an unsettling calm.
As the Alpha king proclaimed the necessity of a treaty to safeguard the werewolves and their lineage, Valerio’s focus transfixed on Evyths, understanding the deeper implications of their predicament. He sensed a brewing storm that reflected the cruelty within both their factions.
“A prophecy has been laid before us, yet we remain oblivious to the chosen one. Therefore, I, Alpha King of the Davendale Kingdom, Leon Hardwick, hereby establish a treaty between the werewolves and vampires for a specified duration. This decision stands and must be honored,” Leon declared, the werewolves echoing their allegiance to their king.
When the king’s beta approached with the parchment bearing the terms, tension crackled in the air. The king clawed at the contract, while the vampire king impressed a blood sigil upon it.
“King Leon, allow me to propose a more compelling means to solidify our treaty. After all, parchments can easily be destroyed or taken,” Valerio interjected, a dangerous mix of ice and authority in his tone. “Ravencroft requires proof of commitment,” he added, eliciting a raised brow from the Alpha king.
The room buzzed with tension, particularly from Ryker, who appeared ready to erupt.
“How do you intend to proceed, Prince Belmont?” the king inquired, curiosity piqued.
“According to Article V of the treaty, we can take one of your kind as hostages until certain milestones are met. They will remain unharmed and… well cared for,” Valerio explained, layering his words with an unsettling confidence that left the king visibly unsettled by the demands.
“Bloodsucking demons,” Ryker muttered, a sentiment that echoed through the crowd.
Valerio’s grin flashed, revealing his fangs, as he redirected his attention to the Alpha king, his expression resolute. “Rest assured, your majesty, what I seek bears no threat to your pack or any others,” he said, his gaze landing on Ryker, whose simmering fury was palpable. “Nor is it critical to Rockwell…”
“Name your price, and you shall have it—”
“Your majesty—”
“Rockwell, do not interrupt me again,” Leon growled, and Ryker quickly fell silent, the power of their situation settling heavily upon him.
Leon was acutely aware of the stakes involved, fully cognizant of what they stood to lose if they refused the vampires’ demands. Like any astute ruler, he was determined to secure his legacy.
“I want the half-dead thing,” Valerio declared, darting his gaze to her, drawing every gaze in the room toward Evyths and then the vampire prince, leaving many bewildered by his choice of a half-dead omega over other valuable individuals.
Evyths looked up at Valerio, dread flickering in her eyes as she pondered her uncertain future. What fate awaited her in the turmoil to come? She could only wonder.