Chapter 122

Chapter 122
Lucian's POV

The meetings had dragged on long, but we seemed to agree that we needed to go on the offensive with the Rogue King. We could not keep playing defensive with him. He had tortured us for so long, and it was now time to take revenge.

It was an irony, though. He was meant to be one of us, a werewolf too, and yet he had turned completely on us. But the reality was no one actually knew who the Rogue King was, and that was a question one of the Alphas asked the rest of us.

"I have never met him before," Alpha George confessed. "I do not think anyone here has."

I thought about Samara. Perhaps she had met him when Freya had sold her to him. I was really hoping that somehow she had missed such a terrifying person, and I was hoping still that whatever had taken her was not as frightful as the Rogue King, and that she was somewhere existing in the universe, alive and well.

"I heard the Rogue King is some sort of abnormal creature," my Beta, Edgar, spoke up. "He's not quite a werewolf, nor is he quite any other species, really. He's a rather strange fellow."

I was proud that I had one of the most intelligent people in the room working with me. Since he had recovered yesterday and joined our meeting, he had brought so much insight, and we had actually moved forward. Somehow, Edgar had the charm to make people agree and see the things they had in common more clearly than their differences. It was a gift I wished I had, because every time I looked at Alpha George, I wanted to punch his face into non-existence. A part of me—a very small part of me—was certain that he had Samara hidden somewhere, and this was all a ploy to ensure that I never found her.

Another Alpha spoke up. "I don't think it really matters what he is. What we can agree on is that we need the Rogue King dead."

Edgar's brow furrowed tightly. "It may not seem so important, but I think we should still know. It might give us a clearer idea of who is really after us."

Another Alpha asked, "Do you think this is some extension of the Cold War? The war that had the dragons and the vampires so determined to annihilate us?"

I shuddered to even think about it. Somehow our species, the normal werewolf race, had managed to survive such trying times. The vampires were obviously a match for us in strength, although they were creatures of the night and we had the advantage of both day and night. But the dragons—oh, they were terrible creatures, and somehow they had managed to create dragon-wolves. At first, they had been fascinating, and we had foolishly embraced them. Or at least, that was what history had to tell us about them. And then the dragon-wolf that had existed turned out to be a killing machine sent to destroy the werewolf clan forever. If that was what was happening right now, I was not sure how we were going to win against them. If they had just one dragon-wolf, we were all doomed. Those creatures could kill a hundred of us at once, no matter how brilliantly skilled we were at fighting. There was no amount of defense or attack that would save us from them.

"We cannot rule out that the vampires and the dragons are working together to destroy us," Alpha George said. It was possibly the most intelligent thing—or the only intelligent thing—he had said all day.

"We must be prepared for every possibility," he said.

"I believe together," another Alpha added, "we have an army strength of more than a million."

"Right. It should be enough to besiege the Rogue King," another Alpha added. "If we can besiege the Rogue King's kingdom, perhaps we can force him to surrender."

The problem with our plan, of course, was that the Rogue King was skilled in sorcery, witchcraft, dark magic, and perhaps even lost magic—given what Freya had tried to do in my pack. We could not fight a spiritual, magical war with physical weapons. It just wasn't going to work. We could bring a million men—even a billion men—and the Rogue King could still crush us.

"I think it would be wise to get magic on our side," Edgar suggested, giving voice to what they did not want to admit.

Of course, many of them dabbled in sorcery here and there, using magic that was mostly forbidden, but no one was bold enough to admit it. Everyone tried to pretend like they were too honourable for a bit of magic—myself included.

But this was not the time to pretend. We would need witches like Azazel to help us. Somehow, a part of me regretted allowing her to go. Witches were very cunning creatures, but their magic was useful. I knew that many of the Alphas here, though, had burned bridges with several witches. I was glad that I had not.

Edgar looked around the council hall. "Let's be frank, all of us. This is no time to act like we all play by the rules. I know we agreed previously that we were not to employ magic and all that, but who really follows those rules? We need help right now, so we are going to need all the magic we can get. And of course, we have to be careful with the witches. They are known for being very cunning and playing both sides, only choosing whichever suits them in the end."

"That would mean," Alpha George cut in, "that we would need witches who have broken bonds with the Rogue King, or those we are sure lack any loyalty to him."

"Of course," Edgar agreed, and so did many Alphas around the council hall.

"How do we intend to coordinate a million men?" Alpha Quintus asked.

It was a question no one wanted to face. Trying to coordinate that many men—making them follow one unified command—was going to be nearly impossible. If we disagreed here and could not resolve our differences at this table, that friction would reflect in our army, and it could ultimately be the difference between winning and losing against the Rogue King. And when it came to that, no one wanted to lose.

"We need to choose which Alpha will be the commanding officer for this army."

I immediately felt the room's focus shift toward Alpha George and me, as though everyone had silently agreed it would be between the two of us. But my mind was unsettled, and I doubted I could confidently lead an army like this. My thoughts kept reverting back to Samara—to her head resting against my chest. In that moment when I had held her, I had felt whole, complete—more than I had ever felt in my entire life. And now, without her scent in my lungs, I knew that something was deeply wrong. Something was missing from me.

"Alpha Lucian." It was Edgar's voice that pulled me out of my reverie.

I locked eyes with Alpha George.

"I guess we will have to vote on that," someone added.

"Let's take a break," one of the Alphas suggested. We had been at this since very early in the morning. "And then perhaps when we reconvene, we can take that vote."

I knew what the break was really for: politics. It gave the Alphas time to see what they could gain from either George or myself before casting their votes for commanding Alpha. What they did not realize was that I couldn't bring myself to care about any of it. All I wanted was Samara. All I wanted was my mate.

The Alphas and their representatives began to form clusters around the room. Before anyone could pester me, Edgar came to my side.

"What is going on, Lucian?" he asked, searching my face.

I stared blankly at him. "You know."

"I know Samara is missing," he finished for me. "But you must keep your head in the game. This is no time to wander off. We need you here, and I need you to be more interested in becoming commanding Alpha."

I shrugged. "I do not care about such things."

Edgar looked annoyed. "We both know that George is an egotistical bastard. If he becomes commanding Alpha, he will make drastic decisions that could cost us countless lives—and perhaps this entire war."

While I agreed with Edgar about George's ego, I could not say the same about his strategy. He was exceptionally good at what he did. If he weren't, he wouldn't be commanding a pack as massive as this.

"I don't know," I started, genuinely reluctant about all of this. "George is good."

"We both know he's not that good," Edgar snapped. "We need someone who is calm—someone who can remain cool under pressure—and the only person who can do that here is you. And all these men here..." He gestured toward the Alphas talking among themselves in tight clusters. "They only care about the things you can promise them."

"Status, wealth," I interjected. "And I do not care about any of that bullshit. I just want all of this to be over. And more than anything—"

"—more than anything, you want Samara back," Edgar completed my sentence. "But who knows? Maybe the Rogue King has kidnapped her. We need to fight the Rogue King, Lucian, whether or not you have her back, so we can fix this."

I shook my head, feeling the heavy weight in my chest. "I don't think I can think clearly, knowing that my mate may no longer exist."

Edgar sighed, his tone softening slightly. "If your mate were to die, I believe you would be the first to know."

He was right, and the harsh truth of his words brought a quiet grounding to my frantic mind.

"I guess I'm just very worried," I confessed to him.

"That is understandable. But we need you here, Lucian. Please."

I nodded slowly. "Of course."

After that, the Alphas began seeking me out, trying to cut deals and figure out how voting me in as commanding officer would somehow benefit them personally. It was utterly ludicrous that we were even engaging in this political theatre, considering our very lives and packs were at stake. I could not comprehend how these leaders cared so much about posturing and politics when we were literally standing on the verge of death.