A secret plan

A secret plan
Landon’s POV

I stood alone, as my hands braced on the table, maps and knives scattered like the wreckage of my plans, Amanda’s words “Do your fucking job, Landon” burn in my mind like fire.

Her defiance, her fire, had cut deeper than I’d admit, her rejection a slap no one had ever dared deliver.

No one spoke to me like that, not my men, not my allies, not even the witches I’d bent to my will. My wolf snarled within, pacing, hungry for control, for her submission, but her storming out, her refusal to yield to my touch, had left me rattled, a crack in the armor of my ambition to be Alpha of Alphas.

I slammed my fist on the table, the wood groaning as knives scattered to the floor. Amanda was someone I’d thought I could wield, her pain over Nelson’s betrayal a leash I’d used to pull her to my side.

But tonight, with her eyes blazing, her voice sharp, she had turned on me, daring to command me—the man who’d make packs kneel.

My fingers twitched, itching to grab her, to show her who led this war, but her rejection stung, a challenge that both infuriated and intrigued me.

She wanted Nelson and Sophia destroyed, wanted Ethan crushed for allying with them, and I’d deliver, but not because she demanded it—because it served my throne.

Then the tent flap rustled, snapping me from my thoughts, and one of my men—Darius, a wiry scout with a scar across his cheek—stumbled in, his face pale, his eyes wide with fear.

My wolf sensed his panic, a sour tang in the air, and my patience frayed, my voice a growl that shook the tent. “Speak, Darius, or get the fuck out!” I roared,my hands clenched, ready to strike. “You come in here looking like death, you’d better have something worth my time!”

He flinched, his hands trembling, his voice stammering as he tried to find words, his fear a pulse that fed my fury. “A-Alpha,” he managed to say, his eyes darting to the floor, avoiding mine. “It’s… it’s Cassandra. She—she’s gone. Escaped.”

A red haze clouded my vision as I grabbed him by the collar, yanking him close, my voice a snarl that vibrated in my chest.

“Escaped?” I asked, my wolf clawing to the surface, my eyes flashing gold. “Cassandra was bound by charms stronger than her magic, locked in a dungeon no witch could break! How the fuck did this happen? Who did it?”

Darius shrank, his breath ragged, his words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “I-I don’t know, Alpha! The guards—they were spelled unconscious, the wards on her cell were broken. The chains, the runes—they were shattered, like someone… someone stronger got to her. We found no tracks, no scent, just… just magic, heavy in the air.”

I shoved him back, my hands shaking, my wolf howling, the implications crashing over me like a tidal wave.

Cassandra, my key to the blood charm, the witch who’d make me invincible at the festival, was gone. Her magic, her blood, was my edge against Nelson, Ethan, their allied packs, and now it was lost, stolen from under my nose.

My mind raced, Amanda’s defiance is still a fresh wound, now compounded by this betrayal. Someone had dared infiltrate my stronghold, unravel my plans, and the list of those bold enough was short.

I turned, my fist slamming into the table again, a crack splitting the wood, my voice low, sending a dangerous growl.

“Someone stronger,” I repeated, my eyes narrowing, my mind piecing together the betrayal. “Cassandra didn’t break those charms herself. Someone got to her, someone who knew where she was, how to undo the spells.” I paced, my boots heavy, the tent shrinking under the weight of my fury, my wolf demanding blood.

Darius stood frozen, his fear a stench I taste, but I ignored him, my thoughts getting the best of me.

Amanda’s anger, her demand to destroy Nelson, had been a spark, but this—Cassandra’s escape—was a blow to my control, a crack in my dominion.

I’d captured Cassandra with magic stronger than hers, bound her with runes that should’ve held, yet someone had outdone me, a shadow I couldn’t see.

My hands clenched, as my nails bite into my palms, blood welling, a reminder of the power I’d lost. The festival was coming, my throne within reach, but without the blood charm, my path was bloodier, riskier.

I stopped, my eyes locking onto Darius, my voice cold, with rage. “Find her,” I said, each word deliberate, firm. “Scour the forest, every coven, every hole she could crawl into. I want Cassandra back, and I want whoever freed her—alive, so I can tear their heart out myself.” I roared.

Darius nodded, his face pale with fright, as he hurried for the tent flap, but I wasn’t done, my voice rising, a roar that shook the canvas. “And tighten security! No one gets near this camp, you hear me? If I lose another piece of this war, I’ll have your head!”

He fled, the flap snapping shut, leaving me alone with my rage, the torchlight flickering like my rage.

Amanda’s defiance, Cassandra’s escape—they were challenges to my crown, but I’d crush them, just as I’d crush Nelson, Ethan, anyone who stood in my way.

I sank into the chair, my hands raking through my hair, my wolf pacing, hungry for blood. “You think you can defy me, Amanda?” I muttered, my voice a low growl, the tent’s shadows swallowing my words.

“You think you can slip through my fingers, Cassandra? I’ll find you both, and when I do, you’ll beg for my mercy.” I say slowly with hands on my jaw with my eyes glinting gold.

“They won’t know what's going to hit them.” My wolf growled dangerously. “Let's carry out the plan now.”

A small smile curled up my face.

“Patience Xyn. Patience.” I calm my wolf.

I had something that’s going to rip both Ethan and Nelson’s worlds apart.

Something strong.

And a life will be taken.