Chapter 89

Chapter 89
The vision flickered for a moment, as if the connection was weakening, but it surged back, stronger now, pulling me deeper into their world. It wasn’t just a glimpse; it was a full-blown scene, unfolding before my very eyes. They were speaking to each other in low, hurried tones, their words barely audible, but I could feel the weight of their conversation. It was a secret—something they didn’t want anyone to hear, something they feared might get out. 

A shiver ran down my spine. I wanted to look away, to shut it all out, but I couldn’t. I was trapped in this vision, forced to witness their exchange, to understand the depths of their lies and their twisted plans.

I felt a presence behind me then—a darker force, something ancient and terrifying, pulling at the edges of my consciousness. The vampire, my vampire, was still there, watching, waiting, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding, as if he too had seen this moment unfold before.

I wanted to scream, to ask what it meant, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I was left with the eerie silence of the vision, the coldness of the father’s gaze, and the bitter resentment that lingered between them. In that moment, I realized that this wasn’t just a vision—it was a warning. And I didn’t know if I was ready to face whatever it was leading me toward.

But something shifted in my vision.

Asshole's image haunted my dreams with an intensity I'd never felt before, a vision vivid and all-consuming. It was as though some unseen force had torn the veil between dreams and reality, granting me a forbidden glimpse into the tortured soul of my fated mate and the dark world he inhabited.

The scene began in a fog, shadows shifting around Asshole as he moved through the wilderness near the pack’s boundary—a border so rarely crossed that even seasoned pack members spoke of it with trepidation. I could feel Asshole's emotions bleeding through the mist, raw and suffocating. I sensed the hatred simmering in his heart, like a poison coursing through his veins, infecting everything it touched. Beneath his carefully guarded exterior, I glimpsed a spirit twisted by bitterness and fueled by an almost primal thirst for revenge.

Asshole was meeting with one of his spies, a figure cloaked in darkness, barely distinguishable from the night itself. The spy relayed dire news: Alpha Jegh, Asshole’s father, had ordered the assassination of the vampire king and me, Phia, Oh yes, me, a woman of undeniable strength and grace, and someone who held sway over Asshole's soul in ways even he barely understood.

The mere mention of my name caused a storm to ignite within him, his eyes, deep moss green, blazing with an intensity that could have turned the moon’s glow to ash. Anger, hatred, and a profound sorrow blended together, turning his expression into something both terrifying and heartbreaking.

I watched as he clenched his fists, his jaw tightening until a muscle twitches beneath his skin. His lover, Victoria, was beside him, though their intimacy was already strained. Asshole's mind was consumed by thoughts of vengeance, overshadowing any tender moment that might have lingered between them. The threat against me fueled his resolve, overshadowing even the complex web of loyalty and mistrust that bound him to Victoria. His father’s actions were an unforgivable violation, and Asshole knew he would stop at nothing to take me back and, in doing so, reclaim his sense of control—over his life, his destiny, and, ultimately, his father’s legacy. He needed to see his father dead.

His steps grew heavier, his form rigid, as he approached the shadowy edges of the witch village. Here, in the thick of the enchanted forest, trees whispered secrets older than time itself, their branches glistening as if dusted with crystal snowflakes. The frozen lake lay beneath the stars, its surface like a mirror made of pure diamond, glinting in the night’s eerie silence. A lone silver eagle circled above, its haunting cry a reminder of the isolation that Asshole felt, an endless winter that matched the cold in his heart.

But there was one obstacle yet. To infiltrate the witches' territory, he would have to pay a toll, for the spirits that guarded the village only allowed the supernatural to pass if they bore the right offering—a silver coin, imbued with enchantments, the price for passage through the mystical land. For anyone without the means or without magic, the forest would become a labyrinth, leaving trespassers lost and eventually turned away. Asshole frowned, frustration tugging at his expression as he acknowledged the power the witches held over the forest. For now, he was locked out, an intruder merely watching from the periphery.

Yet, he refused to relent. Hatred had become his most constant companion, a darkness that never left his side. His eyes flared, and his mind roared with impatience. The desire to defy his father, to claim what was rightfully his, pulsed through him like wildfire. Every breath he took was a vow to reclaim his birthright and rewrite his destiny. He dreamed of one day being Alpha King, ruling over all shifters with a command as vast and indomitable as the night sky.

But his hatred was not simple—it had grown roots in his soul from years of unfair treatment, of being blamed for mistakes not his own, of being cast into the shadow of his deceased brother, a warrior whose legacy was constantly thrown in his face. Asshole’s father had moulded him into this creature of resentment, pushing him to the edge, blaming him, denying him the validation he had once craved as a child. Asshole’s heart ached with the injustices he had suffered, yet in his twisted mind, he found it easier to play the victim than to confront the depths of his anger.

And so, he plotted. With every passing day, Asshole found himself slipping deeper into his own rage, concocting plans to kill his father and claim the throne. His thoughts grew darker, fed by whispers from a malevolent force—an ancient god of war, murmuring promises of power and vengeance. Asshole’s fury began to take on a life of its own, becoming something almost tangible, a sinister presence that fueled his growing obsession. The darkness in him laughed, a chilling sound that echoed through the silence of the forest.

Soon, it would be his father's turn to suffer, to experience the wrath of the son he had tried to mould and control. He envisioned a future where his father lay broken, his empire crumbling as he ascended to the throne. He wanted more than just revenge; he wanted to watch as the very foundations of his father’s power trembled and fell. The rage within him felt infinite, a vast, untamed force that would not be quelled until he held the title of Alpha King.

Asshole’s footsteps slowed as he neared the cottage where his father’s mistress resided, a hidden haven in the forest, cloaked in secrets and shadows. He sneered, disdain twisting his features. "A witch?" he muttered under his breath, his contempt for his father growing with each revelation. His father’s shame was a mirror of Asshole’s own insecurities, but he would rather burn the world than admit it. Asshole's envy, his bitterness, his shame—they had all combined to forge him into something fierce and ruthless. And now, he would bring that fury to bear.

Alpha Jegh lay inside, oblivious to the storm brewing on his doorstep. The man had no idea of the whirlwind of resentment, of wounded pride, and of murderous intent that lurked in the heart of his own son. But tonight, as the faintest scent of Asshole drifted in on the cold wind, Alpha Jegh stirred. Somewhere in his slumber, a dark foreboding took hold.

Asshole lingered in the shadows, watching, waiting, his mind ablaze with plans and curses. Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he would cast aside the chains his father had placed on him. Soon, he would rise as the ruler he was meant to be, and all those who had dared to oppose him would be forced to kneel or be crushed underfoot.

And when that day came, Asshole knew he would feel nothing but satisfaction, for he had finally embraced the monster within.

The sky was tinged with a muted grey, promising dawn but not yet delivering it. Alpha Jegh could feel the heaviness of night lingering in the forest, as if the trees themselves held their breath in anticipation. Time was slipping away, and he knew he had to act. Each moment brought him closer to an inevitable confrontation he had long feared but never thought would come to pass. His son, was near, prowling the woods with intentions as dark as the shadows stretching across the frosted ground.

Alpha Jegh slipped outside, gripping the hilt of his sword, his gaze hard as he scanned the clearing. He paused by the door, casting a brief look back at Eve, his companion and healer, who lay sound asleep, cloaked in the enchanted mist she summoned each night to hide their cabin from unwanted eyes. The mist shimmered faintly in the dim light, ethereal and beautiful, but he knew it wouldn't be enough to keep his son at bay. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come, and moved silently through the trees, the cold biting into his skin.

As he reached a clearing between the icy trees and frost-covered bushes, he thought of the vampire assassin he'd fought hours before. Alpha Jegh had barely survived, his body bruised and bloodied from the encounter. His muscles still ached, his strength not yet fully restored despite Eve's healing powers. Yet here he was again, hunted not by an outsider but by his own blood, a son who had forsaken loyalty and love for power and darkness. The betrayal sliced deeper than any wound the vampires could inflict.