Kaidon's POV
“The rumors are true, Alpha,” he said with a grave tone. “A coup has definitely taken place in the Valkar Pack. My sources tell me that the one who started this bloody coup was a werewolf the Alpha himself had brought into the pack. His name was Draven.”
Draven? The gears in my mind began to spin as I searched my memory, piecing together the fragments I knew of him. Every bit of information I’d gathered painted him as an honorable wolf, a trusted confidant who had earned the Alpha of Valkar’s respect and favor. Maverick treated him well, practically like a brother. Why would he bite the very hand that fed him?
“Draven?” I leaned forward. “Are you certain? From everything I know, the Alpha held him in the highest regard. What could have driven him to this?”
Thorn nodded, his jaw tight. “I wondered the same, Kaidon. But my sources are reliable. Draven wasn’t just trusted; he was practically family to the Alpha. Yet somehow, he managed to rally the rogues, those mindless beasts on the outskirts, and bring them under his control. Not one, not two, but several hundred. Enough to make a strong pack”
I stilled, taken aback. “The rogues? You’re telling me he managed to control them?”
Thorn’s expression grew darker. “Yes. It seems he’s found a way to harness them, Kaidon. They’re wild, violent, unthinking creatures... but somehow, he has them following his every command. A feat no werewolf in history has ever been able to accomplish.”
“But how? And why would they listen to him? They don’t follow anyone; they’re animals, barely more than frenzied, blood thirsty beasts” I swallowed, my throat dry as I processed the enormity of it. Draven controlling rogues, especially such a large number, was unheard of—a feat that, until now, I would have deemed impossible.
“I believe he has managed to tap into something... beyond our understanding,” Thorn said with furrowed brows. “Even the magic of the warlocks in the southern Nether Woods isn’t potent enough to control a rogue’s mind, so how could he even achieve such a feat?”
I didn’t have an answer. Sinking back into my throne, my mind churned with this twisted revelation. Draven—someone who should have been nothing more than an ambitious fool, perhaps a threat in time, but nothing near this magnitude—had found a way to control the feral rogues. They represented raw, unchecked chaos that sent shivers down my own spine. They were a blight on our kind, too far even for redemption, yet somehow, Draven was now wielding this chaos like a weapon.
My mind traveled back in time, to my days of conquest. I was no stranger to power seized through blood. Before the goddess had smitten me with my curse, I had carved a path through packs with my own claws and fangs, drowning my enemies in rivers of their kin’s blood. The Rykov Pack of today was made through these conquests. Arguably the most powerful pack in all of the realm.
But... there was a difference between the might I’d built and the unnatural force Draven commanded. I shuddered slightly as I realized the implications this might have on me.
If he truly had bent the rogues to his will, that was something that defied all common sense and could potentially destabilize everything I’d built.
A growl rumbled from my throat. Draven had crossed every line imaginable and laughed in its face. I would not stand by and let him think he was my equal.
“Continue,” I commanded in a cold tone.
“Draven chose the night he was supposed to be wedded to Alpha Maverick’s daughter. He slaughtered everyone that was royalty in the pack: the Alpha, the Luna, the generals, elders, guards. None were spared.”
“And the bride?” I asked curiously.
“She’s presumed dead, though they haven’t found her body,” Thorn responded. “Our sources speculate that she was the first to be killed.”
“And he’s already claimed the throne?”
“Yes.” Thorn nodded. “Officially, he’s now Alpha of Valkar. The pack’s been subdued, and anyone who resisted has been killed. That’s all the information our sources and spies were able to gather, my lord.”
My jaw clenched as I processed this piece of information. Tapping my fingers on the armrest of the throne, I came to a conclusion. Draven would not be satisfied with Valkar alone, not with the rogues under his control. I was once like that, and with each pack I took over, I always wanted the next.
“He won’t stop, Thorn,” I murmured. “With this power in his grasp, he’ll be like a rabid dog with a taste for blood. He’ll drag every pack in Elyndor into his chaos, and he won’t rest until he’s claimed it all.”
Thick, heavy silence descended in the throne room. Thorn had a thoughtful expression as he seemed to be seriously thinking about what I had just said.
“So... what are your orders, my lord?” Thorn asked with a serious gaze.
I held my silence for a brief moment, thinking of the next course of action. After a while, I straightened up on my throne.
“We don’t know his true motives yet, Thorn,” I began. “Perhaps he’s driven by revenge, or maybe it’s ambition that’s poisoned his mind. But we cannot wait for him to reveal his intentions. We need to be prepared for the worst, because if Draven decides to extend his reach, war is inevitable.”
Thorn nodded, his expression grim. “Understood, Alpha. I’ll make sure our informants keep a close watch on Draven’s movements. We’ll need any intelligence we can gather to anticipate his next steps.”
“Good.” I tapped my fingers on the armrest, my mind turning over our defenses. “Strengthen the borders. Increase the patrols around our lands, especially near the territories bordering Valkar.”
Thorn inclined his head. “I’ll see to it personally, my lord.”
“Ensure that your spies blend in well,” I added. “Draven won’t take kindly to dissenters, and we can’t risk losing our informants prematurely. They’re our eyes and ears within Valkar now; I need them to survive long enough to give us something useful.”
I paused, taking a deep breath. “In due time, I’ll call a meeting with the generals. I want every strategist, every warrior of influence, gathered to discuss our next steps.”
Thorn bowed his head, understanding the gravity of my command. “It will be done, my lord. We’ll fortify our defenses, gather intelligence, and await your summons.”
I nodded, and then he turned around, walking out of the throne room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I tousled my hair in frustration, my mind churning with everything I had just learned, my thoughts wandering all over the place.
Then, strangely enough, my thoughts drifted to the one figure who had seemed an afterthought in all this.
Draven’s bride. The one he was said to have killed. An insignificant detail, but something about it lingered in my mind, like a piece that didn’t quite fit.
The thought stirred a memory in me—just last night, when I’d entered Serena’s chambers. She’d been tormented by nightmares, twisting in her sheets as her lips murmured broken words. I hadn’t intended to stay, but her voice and the undeniable pull of the mate bond had drawn me closer. She’d called out a name, again and again—Draven.
“It can’t be.” My eyes widened as realization dawned on me. Serena had spoken his name with fear etched into every syllable. Why? What had connected her to him? The bride Draven was said to have killed was presumed dead, but if Serena had once been close to him, then…