Chapter 9
"The hell is happening out there?" Marco snaps, jolting out of bed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. The packhouse is in chaos, screams and panicked shouts filtering through the walls. Beside him, Melissa stirs, blinking at him in confusion.
"Alpha, the pack’s under attack," Stephen pants as he bursts through the door. “We’ve got ten men down already.”
“Who the hell’s stupid enough to try this shit?” Marco growls, standing as Stephen moves quickly to help him dress.
"The warriors are pushing them back to the boundaries, but it’s rough. It’s Nightowl pack,” Stephen replies, his voice grim.
Marco freezes for a split second, then lets out a laugh that’s all venom. “Alpha Damian thinks he can just march in here, huh? That bastard really wants to test me?”
The pack has faced a lot of confrontation from neighboring packs for its resources, weapons that were made from Lycan blood by Alpha Fenwick, one of which was modified by Marco’s father solely to kill a Lycan—and that weapon was used against Lowell by Marco.
“The bodies we found have the Nightowl mark,” Stephen confirms, straightening as Marco shoves on his jacket.
“Damian’s broken the damn deal. Guess he’s forgotten who he’s dealing with.” Marco’s voice drips with menace, and he doesn’t waste another second. “Let’s go remind him.”
Marco and Stephen head out, joining the men already in battle, driving Nightowl’s warriors to the pack’s boundary. By the time they reach it, Marco’s fury is barely contained, his whole body practically vibrating with rage. He locks eyes with Damian, who stands there bloodied and barely upright, panting as his men retreat.
“You really thought this was smart?” Marco spits, baring his teeth. “You’re lucky I haven’t killed you where you stand.”
Damian glares back, matching Marco’s rage. “Your pack stole from me, Marco. I didn’t forget what you did. You broke the deal long ago by luring my people here. My best witch doctors—my damn pack members! You tricked them into staying in NorthHill, you bastard!”
Marco laughs, a sharp, mocking sound. “Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. Go back to your little corner, Damian. You’re weak, and you’ll die weak if you try this again.” He smirks, adding, “I didn’t even bother using the weapons we have. Trust me, if we did, you’d be nothing but scraps on this ground.”
Damian’s face twists with rage, but he knows better than to push further. His men are spent, and even he’s struggling to stay on his feet. With a furious snarl, he jerks his head to signal his warriors. “This isn’t over, Marco,” he hisses, barely concealing the bitterness in his voice.
“It is if you want to keep breathing,” Marco sneers. “Get out of my sight.”
Damian turns, leading his men away, but his gaze lingers for a moment, his hatred clear. Marco watches him go, disgust plain on his face.
He turns to Stephen. “Double security along every damn border,” he commands, his voice cold and unforgiving. “We’re already dealing with Lowell’s bullshit. I don’t have the patience to deal with anything else from the outside.”
Stephen nods. “I’ll take care of it, Alpha. But... look, maybe spreading the word that the Lycan prince is out might keep everyone away. Just a thought. You know how much they feared Fenwick... if word got out that his son’s been freed, people would think twice about coming near NorthHill.”
Marco’s expression turns dark, and he fixes Stephen with a hard glare. “So now you’re saying I need to use that freak as leverage? That I don’t have the power to keep them scared myself?”
Stephen’s eyes widens slightly, realizing his mistake. “No, Alpha, that’s not what I meant. I only thought... maybe it’d be a deterrent. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Damn right you didn’t,” Marco snaps, his tone cold. “Think before you open your mouth next time. If my own people hear about that, they might just start thinking he’s the real threat, not me. You want them to choose the Lycan prince over me?”
Stephen swallows, bowing his head. “I’m sorry, Alpha.”
“Good.” Marco gives him a hard look before turning away, the weight of everything pressing down on him. In his gut, though, he can’t deny the truth—Lowell’s release would make any pack think twice. No one would dare take on NorthHill with that monster back in the picture.
He stops, gaze sharpening as he catches sight of Melissa walking toward him. His face softens for just a moment, his usual sneer melting into a small smile. She’s his, even if the damn moon goddess had other plans. Mated to Nana. He clenches his jaw at the thought.
Melissa reaches him, sensing his tension. “Rough morning?” she asks, her voice soft.
“You could say that.” Marco caresses her face and gently reaches out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Bastards won’t leave us in peace. Can’t a man catch a break in his own damn territory?”
Melissa’s eyes flicker with a mixture of sympathy and love, she has loved Marco since they were kids, her father was Marco's father's friend. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. Doesn’t help that we have the whole Lycan thing looming over us.”
Marco grunts. “Tell me about it. If it were up to me, that damn prince would’ve stayed locked up forever.”
Melissa leans closer, her voice low. “But he didn’t because your little mate freed him, Marco. And you know as well as I do that he’s going to be a problem.”
Marco's face twists in anger at the reminder of what Nana has done. “Not if I get to him first,” Marco mutters, his eyes narrowing. “He’s weak, running around half-dead, and he knows it. That silver bullet’s doing its job, keeping him in check. All I need is one damn moment, and he’ll be out of the picture for good.”
She raises an eyebrow, a slight smile on her lips. “You sound awfully confident.”
Marco’s grin is sharp, dangerous. “Because I am. If he thinks he’s getting near me or anyone I care about, he’s dead.”
Melissa reaches out, resting a hand on his arm. “I don’t doubt that. But you’ve got to be careful. Lowell’s not just any Lycan, and if he manages to pull that bullet out—”
Marco cuts her off, voice tight. “That won’t happen. I’m making sure he stays weak, stays bleeding. He’s not a threat to us anymore.”
“Good.” She nods, though her expression remains uncertain. “I just... I don’t want you getting caught off guard. We can’t afford to lose you.”
He smirks. “Worried about me, huh?”
“Someone’s got to be,” she replies, her tone light but her gaze serious.
Marco’s gaze softens for just a second before hardening again. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”
Their moment is interrupted by Stephen’s hurried return. He clears his throat, awkwardly stepping forward. “Alpha, sorry to intrude again, but we’ve just received reports from the west border. Patrols are seeing... signs. Fresh ones.”
“Signs of what?” Marco demands, his patience wearing thin.
Stephen hesitates, glancing between Marco and Melissa. “Of Lowell. There’s blood, and claw marks. Like he tried to force himself through. He’s hurting bad, Alpha. Really bad.”
Marco’s jaw tightens, a look of grim satisfaction flashing across his face. “Good. Let him suffer.”
Stephen shifts uneasily. “But, Alpha, if he’s desperate enough to keep pushing—”
“He’s not getting near my pack house. I bet he's just hunting at the border,” Marco cuts him off, his tone final. “He’s weak, and he’ll stay that way. But keep your eyes on that border. If he so much as twitches in the pack house direction, I want to know.”
“Yes, Alpha,” Stephen replies, bowing his head slightly before heading off.
Marco watches him go, feeling a familiar surge of irritation at the constant threats surrounding him. But in the back of his mind, an uneasy thought lingers—Lowell’s strength, if it returns, would be a threat he’s not ready for.
But he shoves the thought away. He won’t let that bastard get close enough to be a threat. Marco and Melissa walk back to the packhouse and they see Nana ahead, doing her morning duties.
Melissa smirks at the sight of Nana.