Ethan.
The night air was crisp, the moon casting a silvery glow over the Crest mansion as I paced anxiously in the heart of our territory. My decision to find my mate, albeit one I had rejected weighed heavily on my mind, but just because I’d rejected her didn’t mean I wanted her to run from me. I had tasked one of my most trusted informants to find Arya, to bring an end to the haunting specter that lingered between me and almost insanity.
I puffed on the cigar between my lips, blowing out smoke that evaporated into the air. “Any news? Have you found her?”
My informant, a seasoned member of the pack, met my gaze with a somber expression. I trusted Ryan with my life. It was the reason I’d tasked him with finding her because I knew he was the only one capable enough to do the job. If there was one thing Ryan knew how to do, it was infiltrating circles. He had been highly instrumental in tearing down enemy packs in the past.
“There are whispers in the rogue lands about a prophetic wolf, a figure of great significance,” he said, uncertainly etched unto his face.
I kept my gaze on him. “And how does this concern me?”
“I believe it’s her.”
I stared at him blankly. I’d heard of the rogue lands a while ago. A place where banished and unwanted wolves found shelter. A savage land. It wasn’t hard believing that Arya had somehow found her way there, however, but it was damned difficult to believe that the pathetic girl I’d rejected was now somehow a prophetic wolf. It was laughable, really.
And this was someone who didn’t even have a wolf.
Her father and sister had said so themselves. Arya Shelby had never transformed before. She had even been lucky to be termed an Omega, given that she had been completely useless to the pack.
“Explain.”
Ryan blew out a breath. “Rumors suggest that this wolf possesses abilities beyond the ordinary. Some even claim she's the chosen one, destined to bring about change, while others say she is death personified. The rogue kingdom is abuzz with tales of her exploits.”
The air thickened with a sense of urgency. Arya, the prophetic wolf—such a revelation sent a surge of conflicting emotions through me. The quest to find her, once fueled by anger and the need for retribution, now took on a new dimension, tinged with a curiosity that bordered on trepidation.
If Arya was truly this wolf that the Rogues spoke of, then it was only fair she returned back to me and fulfilled her destiny where she belonged. By my side as my mate. Why should I let her go now that I knew the enormity of what she carried? I wasn't stupid.
I willed my heart to quit pounding. “Where can I find more information? I need to know more.”
I needed to be sure. Otherwise, all this was a huge waste of time. It would require me to go to the rogue land and I couldn’t for the life of me imagine myself in such a savage and barbaric place but this could not be avoided.
Ryan shifted on his feet, his eyes roaming the landscape. “There's a rogue informant in the borderlands who may have more details. He's discreet but trustworthy. I could get through to him if you’d like. I suggest you tread carefully, Alpha. The rogue kingdom is not known for its hospitality.”
I expected nothing less from savages. “Thanks for the warning.”
Ryan turned to go, then paused, meeting my eyes. “There’s something else.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What is it?”
“I heard that this prophetic wolf was about to marry the Alpha of the Rogues.”
My brows shot up in surprise. “You don’t say.”
Ryan nodded. “That’s what I heard. The wedding was put off for the meantime but from what I heard, the alpha is very much in love with her and was willing to risk his pack just to marry her.”
This was getting even more interesting. Arya was engaged to be married? Pigs really did fly, after all.
With a nod of gratitude, I dismissed him, the weight of the newfound information settling on my shoulders like a burden. I took a deep puff of my cigar, throwing my head back and letting the smoke fill the air.
So, Arya was a prophetic wolf now and she was to marry an Alpha. A burst of laughter escaped my lips. Who would have thought? She’d been so weak, so basic, the worst kind of woman. Sure, there had been a certain mystery about her, but not enough to make any sane man lose his mind.
But now, here she was, about to marry another man. I couldn’t sit still and let that happen. Never. Not only was that an insult to my person, it was simply not done. I was the Alpha of the Crests and no man dared to cross me. Kings cowered at the mention of my name. The Alpha who had defeated his older brother and banished him from the kingdom. That was me.
I laughed again, the sound echoing through the night. Alison was not going to like this. She was already whining about me putting off the wedding. I wondered how mad she was going to be when she found out that I had no plans of marrying her at all.
I didn’t care about Alison. She’d live. And if she didn’t, then whatever.
All I cared about now was how Arya thought she could live a happy life in the rouge lands after running from me. What a little snake. Since she couldn’t get the Alpha of the Crests to marry her, she went on to bewitch the Alpha of the Rogues. Seemed like she didn’t care who she married as long as he was an alpha.
And who the hell was this alpha anyway? Did he know he’d signed his death warrant the second he’d usurped my mate?
I was going to kill him and I was going to make her watch. She had been mine first, anyway. And then afterward, I would bring her home and make her use her powers for me and if she wanted this prophetic wolf everyone was talking about, I'd kill her. Either way, I would win.
Because I was Ethan Locke and I always got what I wanted.