Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Present time, Tyler POV

Marcela looked back at me, her eyes widening. "You wants me to tell you who my powers were passed on to?" she asked, shock evident on her face.

I nodded, keeping my expression as neutral as possible. I wanted to appear as nonchalant as possible. I didn't want to give off an idea of how desperate I really was.

I knew that something in me told me that she knew the answer. I had kept the topic at bay, avoiding it for a long time, but now finally, I couldn't get away from it anymore. I had to find the answer, the parents along with it.

"Before I said, I want you to know that this is absolutely important, and I wouldn't be asking you this if I had another option," I said, my voice as serious as it could get.

It was hard to understand that I wasn't doing this out of convenience; it was more out of necessity. She frowned, her face in a hard line, which confirmed two things for me: one, she knew who her powers were given to, and two, she wasn't going to tell me on a platter of gold.

Damn it, everything was going down here, wasn't it?

"You know that I lost my ability as the Lycan King," I began. "But now it's different. We're going into a war with our enemies, and I need these powers. Otherwise, the entire wolf packs will be thrown into utter chaos. You don't understand how important this is, right?" I asked.

She still held on to her frown, her expression not softening. I could tell it was going to be hard to get her around.

"And so what are you going to do when you find the person?" she asked, her voice brutally cutting. It was almost like she knew something that I didn't. "Sacrifice them in cold blood just to get your powers back?" she asked.

I tried looking away from her, finding myself in a difficult position. Yes, that was the plan, but how could I exactly spell it out to her without sounding like a cold-hearted jerk?

"It's not like that, I know it," I muttered as precious as I could.

"Is this for the greater good?" she asked.

Then suddenly, I lost my cool, going over the edge. I grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her to stare right into my eyes.

"Look at me, Marcela," I growled, my voice slow and dangerous. "Do you think I'd be taking this path if I had another way?" I glared at her. "Stop making me look like the villain here."

Her eyes were a mixture of shock and hurt. I saw how roughly I had grabbed her and let go of her shoulder. I turned away from her, my back facing her as I ran a finger through my hair in frustration.

"I don't pretend to know what it's like," Marcela's quiet voice came from behind me after a while.

I didn't want to face her. I didn't want to give her any extra reason to believe that I was the monster in her dreams.

"But I do know that there has to be another way," she said.

Yes, there was, I thought in my mind. I could simply force all the information out of her. Back at myself, I knew that I couldn't let myself do that. I couldn't let myself be blinded by my desperation. What if Lola found out? I thought to myself. How would I be able to look at her again?

"You should know that in a couple of days' time, I'll be going alone to meet Dia, leader of the rogues," I said, stating the facts calmly, making it clean and simple to her. "In a couple of days' time, I could be dead. Is that really what you want?" I stared at her, praying and hoping for any piece of understanding in her eyes, anything that was telling me that she actually cared about me.

However, Marcela's expression remained frustratingly unreadable.

"Please," I said, my voice breaking. The Lycan of the mystic pack was reduced to a man on his knees for something that he could just take.

"You don't understand either," Marcela said, her voice pained like she was the one caught between two deep seas, like she was the one whose life would depend on the outcome of a meeting in just a few days.

How was I supposed to understand that? I thought to myself.

"The one with the powers, she—" my sister said, stopping herself just in time.

"She what?" I asked, my voice coming out rougher than I intended. I couldn't believe that I was this close only to fail again.

"You simply can't know who it is!" Marcela yelled, her voice breaking. She pushed past me before I had the chance to stop her, hoping to explain what was happening, and threw open the door, stepping out of the room in a hurry.

"Marcela!" I called after her, but her shut door and hurried footsteps told me that she had fled from the room.

Was I so close and then suddenly failed? I thought to myself. Let's not assign well. Why would Marcela care so much about a random person that she didn't even know? I thought to myself in frustration.

Everything was so overwhelming that I fell back on the king-sized bed. I just stared up at the ceiling, wishing for a reality where things were different, where I didn't have to look through hours in book sessions for an answer that would never show itself.

If she had answers, why wouldn't she just tell me? I thought to myself. Was the person so precious to her? However, I could clearly recall the conflicted look in her eyes, like the answer to all my problems was going to break me just as much as it broke her.

After a few minutes of staring up at the ceiling, occupied with my thoughts, my mind unable to let go of the void that I was slowly slipping into, I realized that I couldn't stay in this room any longer. I would simply lose it. Half of me wanted to stand up and toss items around the room in rage, while the other half wanted to find a way out, a way to just shut all the noise in my head, a way where everywhere was completely quiet.

I closed my eyes for a brief second only to reopen them again, not much working. Finally, I stood up from the bed and exited the room myself. I was just about to close the door when my eyes sighted a single black book laying on the dresser in the room.

Well, my day can't possibly get worse for me, I thought to myself, opening the door and stepping back into the room. I walked over and picked up the black book. Memories from months ago flooded into my mind as I turned the book in my hand, recalling who it belonged to.

Elder Marcus, I thought to myself. "You might find something helpful in it," Diego's words from months ago echoed in my head. I remembered when he handed me the book after the meeting and how I automatically got to the conclusion that it wouldn't be of any help to me.

But now I was at the bottom of the ocean, at the edge of the cliff. It wouldn't hurt to open it, I thought to myself. Maybe it would hold answers, maybe somehow it would help me see things a little bit clearer. Of course, there was no telling, but I might as well try.

And so I picked up the book, dusting it and bringing it back to the table. I shuffled through the rest of the books there, pushing them aside and made room for the black book. I placed it on the table.

It was supposed to hold Marcus's speculations of the war, his analysis on anything and everything that was happening, and possible ways that he expected me to go about it. It would hold Marcus's ideas, most of which he had previously hinted at during our meetings. Elder Marcus was the one who served at my father's table of elders. Also, if I was going to get answers from anyone, I felt myself ready to hope for anything. I was desperate.

I opened the book, my eyes scanning through the pages written in white ink. However, after a few minutes of scrolling, I realized that nothing was going to help me.

Yes, what a shame, I thought, my frustration piling up once more. Was I truly at the edge of the cliff this time? I thought to myself.

I was about to discard it again when a sentence towards the end caught my eyes. "On events of the rogues cornering us," I read aloud. "They have a leader that rallies them all. Without a leader, they are nothing. The first step to win the battle is to find out who the leader is and what his intentions are."