Chapter 125

Chapter 125
Lucian's POV

Lord Azariah ensured that men who could help bring me safely into the pack were waiting for me at the river. Our journey back to my pack was a lot smoother than our journey from it. As we neared the pack’s forte, I glanced towards Edgar.

“Is your wound really better?” I asked him.

He appeared like the kind of person to keep his injuries private so he would not be a bother.

“It is completely healed,” he assured me and yet within the fraction of a second, I had seen him wince.

He was definitely not quite alright yet and instead of choosing to rest at George’s pack, he had immersed himself fully into work. Arguably, I had the best beta in the werewolf realm and perhaps the most loyal one too.

“Is it now?” I asked him, “if you are…”

Edgar rolled his eyes at me.

“I have never known you to be so caring.”

I had never been but there was something about losing my mate the second time that had broken me.

Flashback

My mind wandered off to the last conversation I’d had with George. He was a bit worried Samara was working with the rogues because she had been spotted twice when they came to attack. He believed that finding Samara had to take top priority. And he’s had only one line for us; kill her on sight.

I could not voice out to him that it was impossible for me to kill my own mate. Besides, we had not even confirmed yet that she was the dragon wolf. We were only making an inference based on what her grandfather had told us.

“You cannot be soft about this,” George said, “we have to do what is right by the werewolf clan or we would all cease to exist on this planet.”

I was mostly quiet. He was asking me to do the impossible—kill my mate.

“If we find her, we must end her life,” he repeated for emphasis, “the last dragon wolf—he infiltrated the werewolf packs and instead of killing him off they were all very fascinated by him, believing the made-up love story that had birthed him and he turned out to be a killer. He nearly destroyed us.”

But that was several hundred years ago. Times had changed and Samara was not the same person as that dragon wolf. The Samara I knew had a wide range of emotions and also had deep empathy for others. She was not some cold heartless killer who deserved our sword or gun with no chance to give an explanation.

“You sound like you are trying to convince yourself about this,” I said to George because I had not missed the hesitancy in his own voice.

“I am not,” he replied firmly, “it is what we shall do.”

“What was your relationship with Samara?” I felt compelled to ask him. It felt like he was withholding something from me. But who could blame him? What I was withholding myself was in my front left pocket.

The question appeared to make him pause. Alpha George who was usually certain of himself suddenly began to fidget.

“She was brought to my palace as a slave,” came his response. But there was a lot more he was not telling me and perhaps it was something I did not really want to know.

“She was great company,” he eventually said.

Great company? My wolf screamed within me. He reduced our wolf to just great company?

I tried not to appear offended or jealous.

“Okay,” I simply said, “if I find her first, I’ll… I’ll take her life.”

George nodded.

“You do not wish that we put resources together…”

“No,” I said immediately.

I had no such plans when what I wanted to do was very different from what he planned on doing. If I found Samara, I would first confirm if it was true that she was the dragon wolf and then… and then I would not know what else to do. If I ever got to that bridge, I would cross it somehow given that she did not take my life while I was on it.

End of flashback

I was brought back to the present as my car pulled into the fort. It was obvious that Azariah had been doing a wonderful job of managing the attacks since I had left. But when I stepped out of the car, he was waiting for me and his face did not look happy at all. He only appeared somewhat relieved.

“Did something happen?” that question was beginning to sound more like a ringtone nowadays because of how often I found myself saying it.

"I'm sorry you have to come back to this, Lucian," the old man said, sounding troubled. Something had definitely happened beyond just the rogue attacks that threatened our existence.

I ran my hand through my hair. "Maybe I should attend to this," Edgar offered.

But Azariah shook his head. "No. This is something only the Alpha can attend to."

And yet Azariah would not just tell us what it was. He walked us into the fort and into his small parlour, and there sat the problem: seated comfortably in one of my chairs was Freya.

I was about to lose my shit, lunging toward her to tear her limb from limb, when Edgar touched my arm, reminding me to remain as calm and level-headed as possible.

"You really have no fear, huh?" I asked as I sat opposite her on a sofa that was meant to be comfortable, but made me feel anything but.

Azariah and Edgar exchanged a look and walked out of the room, leaving the two of us alone to talk.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked, trying very hard not to give in to my instinct to beat the hell out of her.

She merely shrugged her shoulders, as if anything I had to say did not affect her in the slightest. "You tell me. Why did you go through such lengths to block all my portals into your pack?"

I stared at her with fire in my eyes. "What the fuck do you want, Freya? And why the hell are you so confident coming here?" I could make sure she never saw the light of day again.

She threw her head back in laughter and stayed that way for what felt like three full minutes. Her laugh was sharp and mocking. She was definitely not afraid of me in any way. Something beyond what I could fathom was giving her the confidence to mock me.

When she had recovered from her laughter, she looked me dead in the eye and said, "You? You couldn't keep me away from the light of day."

"What has the Rogue King promised you?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Power? Fame? Influence? Affluence?"

She only smiled.

She drew a sword suddenly from behind her, and I tensed, getting ready to fight. But the sword did not come at me. Instead, she drove the blade straight through her own stomach until the tip pierced out the other side.

My mouth dropped in absolute shock, my eyes growing wide. "What the fuck, Freya?!"

Her eyes closed. She smiled, and only seconds later, I watched in horror as her body regenerated the damaged flesh, restoring the wound until she came back to life like nothing had happened to her at all.

Sorcery, witchcraft—whatever it was, it was terrifying. I did not wish to witness it again. I wanted Freya out of my pack immediately, and I never wanted to see her face again. Something completely evil had taken over her soul, body, and mind, permeating every single cell in her body.

I could not believe that only months ago I had called Freya my best friend and had taken advice from her dark soul.

"State your purpose and get lost," I told her. Her ability to regenerate did not mean that I could not torture her, and I was certain I could come up with a few creative ways to ensure she never returned to the Rogue King in one piece again.

"You did not answer my call," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Your call?" I asked her.

"Yes. I told you I wanted to meet you while you were trying to block off access to my passhouse. Don't you remember?"

I did remember, of course, but I was not about to get into a weird debate about a meeting I had never had any intention of honouring. "What do you want, Freya? State your purpose and get the fuck out of my pack."

"Fine, fine." She raised both hands in surrender. "I'm here because I have an offer to make."

"I do not make deals with the devil," I said, not interested in the least bit about what she had to say.

"Oh, dear Lucian, I'm sure you would want to know what this is about."

"Trust me, I do not."

She stared at me for a while, and when she saw that there was no warmth or play in my eyes, she said anyway, "I want three heads on a spike: Azazel, Agnes, and Paula."

It surprised me that she had mentioned her previous partner in crime, Paula, but I did not care. No matter how many heads she wanted on a spike, or who those people were, she was never going to get her wish from me.

"You can leave now, Freya."

"Don't you want to know what I'm offering in exchange for them?"

"It wouldn't matter, because I wouldn't exchange anything for their heads."

"A chance to cross over to the other side—the winning side." Her eyes gleamed as she spoke. She really was not self-aware in the least.

"What other side?" I asked her.

"The side that is destined to win," she continued. "Join the Rogue King and me. Help us defeat the werewolves."

"And why the hell would I work against my own kind?"

She shrugged. "Why not? You would be the only ones left after the great war. You could make a new world for our kind—one that is not marked by weakness, but by greatness.”