Chapter 147

CLAUDIA.

I’m moving backward, and I can feel it. There’s a shift in the air that I can’t quite explain, a burst of coldness that you would get when you submerge your body in water and you need a moment to adjust to the temperature before breathing again.

Wind seems to be billowing in front of my face, making me struggle to open my eyes. My heart feels like it’s left behind along with my stomach as the flickering gets faster and faster. But just when I think it’s going to get worse and I will get lost in this endless vacuum, the speed ceases and I’m able to open my eyes at last.

And that’s when I see images upon images flickering before my eyes like a series of moving pictures.

Then I finally see Tristan.

Him as younger man, looking at his subjects while they bowed to him. There’s still a spark in his eye that is completely gone from his gaze now. Here he looks like he may be pleased to see them. The image changes and shows me another younger version of him, perhaps in his twenties. He’s in the same office that we ransacked and he’s making a mess too. He seems to be looking for something or trying desperately to keep something hidden.

More and more images show. Him in his bedroom lying awake, him in the fields training. On and on it goes, showing me younger and younger versions of him until I finally see him as a boy, perhaps around fifteen years old.

And he’s alone in a prison cell.

Young Tristan is crying, wailing. “Mother! Mother, please!”

Tears are streaming down his boyish full cheeks as his broken voice rings out into the hallway from the bars of the cell. It’s dark and I can barely make out his body, but I can see outlines of him just curled up in the corner like a baby, calling for his mother.

Even though I know what he would become and what he is now, I still can’t help but feel a rush of sympathy for him. He’s a young boy here, after all. Emaciated and wearing barely anything, just a drape around his hips. His ribs are showing, prominent against the dark light of the red lamp.

“Mother!” he continues to beg, the pain in his voice adding yet another stab of pain inside my body. “Mother, I need you. I need you to take me away from here….”

He trails off into a series of sobs, and that’s when footsteps echo from the hallway. Someone comes in, and it’s an old man wearing thick glasses. I recognize him from one of the paintings: the old Alpha of the Moonlight Grove Pack before Tristan. Tabitha’s father, and Tristan’s grandfather.

I thought he came in here to rescue Tristan, especially since I remember Tabitha asking for her son to get taken care of while she was gone. But to my surprise, the old Alpha just bangs his fist against the bars of the cell and glares at the boy on the other side. “Will you keep it down? You want to be an Alpha, yes? Do you hear Alphas screaming for their mothers?”

With surprising speed, young Tristan scrambles to his feet and slams against the cell door too. The old Alpha staggers back, enraged by this action. “What did you do to her? What did you do to my mother? What did you let your daughter go through?”

“I did not do anything, and she’s no daughter of mine,” the old man says with pure contempt. “Like you are no grandchild of mine. That wench has gotten herself killed in Sangria Amori, no less, executed by the Alpha King himself. She tried to steal the Alpha King's heir.”

Confusion ripples on Tristan’s face. “What?”

The old Alpha just smirks. “Maybe she wants a child who will actually be of decent blood and not some dirt like you. But why does it matter? She is dead, and I cannot begin to say how ashamed I am. Good thing no one knows she’s ever related to me. For all they know, I’m childless, and I am merely passing the throne to a distant cousin.”

Even though I’m just a spectator, I can’t help but feel appalled. Both by the grandfather and what comes after this when Tristan somehow manages to get out.

So Tabitha left Tristan in the Moonlight Grove Pack for her father to take care of, only for him to imprison Tristan and deny his existence. At the same time, she tried to steal Achilles from the Sangria Amori pack. The question is… why did she do that? Achilles said it’s because she thought he would be a part of something big and destructive, but the evidence mounting tells me otherwise.

She had a different reason to try and take Achilles.

Tristan stares at his grandfather, and for the first time since I got here, he looks neutral. In fact, he looks almost calm as he regards the old man up and down. “My mother told you to take care of me. To give the throne to me.”

“She does not have authority here,” the old Alpha says firmly. “Neither do you. Now quit your yapping, or else I will end you permanently.”

“I would like to see you try,” young Tristan says, and now there is a hint of danger in his voice. “Go on. Try me. Because I will not quit screaming here and crying here until every single person in this castle finds out that you have an heir. An heir that you refuse to recognize. But a powerful heir nonetheless.”

The old Alpha just stares at him and leers. “Powerful? You? You have the blood of a madman in you. You are nothing but a legacy of filth and squalor and savagery. You think I would ever let you have the throne? Not in a million years. Your bloodline would never touch that chair, never even make it out of here. Ever. Now shut up, and stop feeding into your own delusions.”

With that, he turns around and leaves. But young Tristan is smiling now. He’s just watching his grandfather get closer to the corner. Then he says, “Stop.”

The old Alpha freezes in his tracks. His eyes are wide, almost popping out of his skull. “What… what are you—”

“Shut your mouth,” Tristan interjects, his voice full of spite and venom. “Now come back here and face me again.”

With that, the old Alpha starts to walk back to Tristan’s cell. I can tell that he’s fighting off the pull but he’s no match for it. He walks like a marionette and lands back in front of Tristan, who reaches through the gaps of his cell and takes the old Alpha by the throat.

Tristan just used the power of command on him, and it looks as strong as mine when I use it with full force.

All of this skill at his age.

He may not be using it now, not as often or not as strongly, but that doesn’t mean I’m not against someone this formidable.

Now he’s smiling. An aura of darkness now surrounds him. His grip tightens against his grandfather’s throat. “You will mind-link your people and tell them you found your real heir, and now your heart will stop because of the surprise you feel. When someone comes to rescue you here, you will tell them that I will take the throne.”

The old Alpha’s eyes grow wide. His lips start to quiver as he mind-links everyone. Soon enough, people are rushing down the dungeon. He sinks to his knees as Tristan lets him go. As quick as lightning, Tristan changes into a vulnerable expression again, sobbing as he hugs his knees.

Meanwhile, two men in uniforms are rushing to the old Alpha’s side, asking what happened. But the old Alpha just points at Tristan and says, “I found my heir. He will become Alpha.”

And with that, he collapses to the floor, dead.