CHAPTER 40: WAR

CHAPTER 40: WAR

Alpha Leonard POV
Those who pandered always fell into the same categories as those who lacked talent. It was simple to tell who was who. They liked to rub their hands—both figuratively and physically. That alone was a clear sign they had little to offer and simply wanted to see what they could get out of you.
Mario was one of those people, going as far as visiting me in my office mere hours after I had returned from freeing Rose’s father and assigning him a simple task. We had, of course, agreed to it—her father had little motivation in life, and a task like this would give him some closure, at least in some small way.
“What do you want, Mario?” I asked slowly, sitting down and folding my hands on the table. Despite the calm facade I presented, anger burned inside me. I hated seeing him, especially now as he stood there with his lackeys. Their very presence only pissed me off further.
The rest of his entourage stood silent, keeping their hands in front of them with what they thought were pleasant smiles plastered across their faces. It wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was pathetic.
“I wish to speak with you, Alpha, concerning the upcoming meeting you have with—what’s her name again?”
“Michaela,” I finished for him. “She’s not an Elder. She’s young—barely 127 years old. Yet, using money from her father, she has achieved much. At least,” I said, interrupting him, “she does something. Unlike you a lot.”
His face twisted as I continued. “You’ve achieved nothing of note, and don’t think I’ve forgotten what I told you at the last council meeting. If you don’t offer a solution, then shut the fuck up.”
“I have a solution,” Mario said quickly.
“Good. Let’s hear it.”
“Meet with Griffin instead. If I can convince him enough, he should be able to leave Michaela out of the equation and come here himself. It would cost them nothing.”
“And it would cost me time,” I replied. “I’m not bending to your self-deluded whims, Mario. Take your nonsense elsewhere. Get out of my office. You reek of rot, and it stinks.”
Mario’s eyebrows raised in shock, his eyes widening like saucers as his face flushed with anger. The reaction was amusing, though not unexpected. His rage simmered beneath the surface, but he dared not express it.
Eventually, he slinked out of my office, his expression burning with rage he couldn’t show. A ticking time bomb, I thought. That was the point—Mario needed to leave my council.
A few minutes later, Gavin poked his head through my door. “They’re here,” he said.
“Convene the council,” I ordered.
I stood, shoved my hands into my pockets, and strode out the door. Minutes later, I was seated in the council room, everyone present except Mario.
“Close the door,” I said. “Anyone not here is not welcome.”
Mario’s lackey stood abruptly. “Alpha, please—”
Ferdinand cut him off, shaking his head. “Lord Mario will be here any minute now,” he said.
“Are you the Alpha?” I asked, my voice sharp.
Ferdinand hesitated, his face flushing. Before he could answer, Michaela swept into the room, Griffin trailing close behind her.
“No,” Ferdinand replied slowly, lowering himself back into his seat.
“Perhaps he doesn’t understand the extent of your question,” Thorn clicked his tongue. “Shall I explain it to him?”
“For some reason, go ahead,” I said, as Gavin led Michaela and Griffin to their seats.
“The Alpha means that if Mario had wanted the mission, he should have gone to the Alpha directly—not you—as though asking you for permission.”
Ferdinand’s face turned a deep shade of pink, much to my amusement. His features weren’t suited for that color, as his complexion was nearly dark-skinned.
“Alpha,” he stammered, turning to me, his olive skin now a deep shade of plum. “He will be here soon—”
“Close the door,” I repeated, turning my gaze to Michaela.
She stood swiftly, offering a sly smile. “Alpha,” she greeted, inclining her head. Her blonde hair was piled in an elaborate style, as if she’d spent hours preparing for this.
“Your council never ceases to amaze me,” she said. “Its greatness lies not only in the architecture but also in the characters within. Always worth watching.”
“And you’re not?” Thorn asked sharply.
“Not precisely,” she replied. “I’m only skewed in one direction. Everywhere else, our Alpha speaks. Speaking of which—”
She stepped out of the box she’d been confined to, moving to the council’s center.
“I understand what has been done against you,” she said.
“Yes,” I replied. “We’re still waiting for that formal apology. And even if it comes, it will take at least fifty years’ worth of tribute—or, if I’m angry enough, an entire century.”
Her face paled. “Forgive me,” she said softly. “Perhaps I was wrong, then. There’s no formal apology?”
“Then there will be war,” I said flatly.
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “I’m here on behalf of my house.”
“Negotiations?” I interrupted, tapping my fingers against the glass table in front of me. “Negotiations only happen when the other side has something we want. I want nothing from you.”
Her blonde eyebrow arched. “And the apology?”
Her dark red lips curved into a smile. There was no denying she was beautiful, but it was the cold, sharp beauty of someone who brought pain rather than warmth. She was one of those icy queens—detached, calculating, and devoid of real emotion.
“Alpha,” she said, her tone light, “you want the apology. You want the tribute.”
“And I also want no war,” I added, cutting her off again. “Why do you think you’ve come here, Michaela? And why did you bring him?” I gestured toward Griffin. “Is he here as a figurehead? A silent elder while you, the young, inexperienced one, do all the talking?”
“Left Alpha,” she chuckled. “We have the same views.”
“Then why does he not speak?” I demanded.
Her bottom lip trembled, and Griffin finally stepped forward.
“We share the same mind,” Griffin said, placing a hand on her elbow. “We wish to negotiate.”
“Then I will be clear,” I said slowly. “I don’t want war. Or maybe I do. But is that what you want?”
Griffin shook his head.
“Then find a way to remedy that. Offer me a deal so irresistible that even the death of my first child could be easily forgiven. A century of tribute,” I said. “And one final term.”
A stone-cold silence fell over the room. It was as thoug
h everyone held their breath. Suddenly, the quiet was broken by a fool pounding on the door outside.