Chapter 127

Chapter 127
Lucian's POV

Edgar wasted no time in marching to the door and pushing it open. I saw two guards holding a distressed-looking Azazel. The moment the door opened, they let go of her arms and she fell onto the marble floor, blood sputtering from her mouth.

"What the hell, Azazel?" I asked, worried and horrified at the same time.

Edgar bent beside her and checked her body. I could see large cuts, heavy bruises, and deep wounds all over her arms and legs.

"What happened?" I demanded.

"I ran into an old friend," she said, smiling to reveal her sharp, jagged teeth.

"An old friend?"

"Yes... your best friend, in fact." She started coughing, spraying more blood from her mouth.

"You need to stop talking," Edgar said. He sounded worried in a way that struck me as strange. Since when did he care about Azazel? But I shrugged it off.

“I will take her to the pack's doctor."

Edgar glanced at me. "I'll help you."

Edgar and I helped Azazel up, and the three of us walked to the clinic situated within the fort. The pack doctor had a look of sheer surprise and horror on his face when he saw who we had brought in.

As we laid Azazel onto an empty bed, she remarked, "Who knew a day would come when two princes from the werewolf realm would escort me to—"

"Shut the hell up, Azazel!" Edgar snapped at her.

The pack doctor, without a word, began inspecting her injuries, prioritizing the cough first.

"It appears part of her lung was punctured," the doctor said. "But with enough rest and the right medicine, she should recover."

He tried setting up an IV, but Azazel violently shoved his hand away. "I'm a witch, remember? I can fucking take care of myself. Do not touch me."

She glared at the doctor, who instinctively took a few steps back.

I folded my arms and stared down at her. "Then why didn't you heal yourself before coming here?"

She eyed me slyly. "Because I came to offer myself to your service."

"Offer yourself to my service? I heard you were meant to be on some ship to an unknown location. What the hell are you even doing here in the first place?"

She shrugged. "I figured I would make myself useful. Besides..." She pointed to her face. "I would like my beauty back."

"Your beauty?" I eyed her suspiciously.

"Yes. That bitch Freya stole part of it and cast an ugliness spell upon me."

It was so absurd that a part of me wanted to laugh, but the gravity of everything would not let me.

"So what are you saying?" I asked her instead.

"I want my revenge," she said. "I am going to take back what is rightfully mine."

Edgar and I shared a look.

"You are going to fight the Rogue King and Freya... because of beauty?"

"Why not?" she asked me defensively. "She turned me into this hideous-looking..." Her voice trailed off in sheer anger. "I want my face back, and my body back! I want to be looked upon with admiration like I once was, not like this pathetic, haggard creature that you see now."

She locked her fiery gaze onto the two of us. "Besides, you need my help. You cannot fight the Rogue King without me. Only I can gather all the witches who aren't loyal to him and fight the magic side of this war."

She was right about that. We were going to need immense magical strength if we were to stand any chance against the Rogue King—and possibly a dragon-wolf. Or who knew if there were more dragon-wolves involved in this.

"If you are going to help us," I began slowly, "you cannot play any tricks. You can't be cunning about this. This is not some—"

"Oh, please!" She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Being tricky is embedded in my very nature. Why would you stifle my true self? But don't worry, I have no plans of working against you."

I stared down at her, still weighing whether it was truly a good idea to partner with a witch. At the Alpha Council, we had agreed it was necessary to win this war.

"If we do this," she added, "we will need a strong pact with the werewolf realm."

"A strong pact," I echoed.

"Yes. The last time, during the Cold War, some of us fought alongside the werewolves, and some alongside the dragons and vampires—and both sides betrayed us. We will not let that happen again."

She had a point there.

"Fine. State your demands."

She cleared her throat. "I will have to speak with the others first, and then get back to you on what our demands will be."

"As soon as you have them, let us know and we'll see what we can do," I replied.

Because this decision didn't rest solely on my shoulders, I would have to bring their conditions before the Alpha Council. Together, we would have to decide if joining forces with the witches was a risk worth taking, or a price we couldn't afford to pay.

"There is something I need your help with, personally," I added.

Azazel narrowed her eyes on me. "What is it?"

"No jokes," I said to her.

She sighed. "Fine," she raised her hand up as though in surrender. "No jokes."

I looked around the room, and the others got the message. They emptied the room for us, and it was just Azazel and I in the room.

I reached into my pocket and held out the necklace in my palm. "I need to know if you can find the owner of this necklace. She disappeared without a trace."

"Interesting," she said, stroking her non-existent beard. "She's your mate, isn't she?"

I glared at her without saying a word.

"You can be honest with me. After all, I cannot sell your secrets for money or otherwise. We have a blood oath, remember?"

Still, I did not confirm what she had just said.

"Fine," she raised her arms up. "If you wish to keep your relationship with her a secret."

"This is not about—Azazel, stop being funny," I snapped at her.

She took the necklace in her palm and examined it closely. "This necklace is meant to suppress a werewolf's scent." As she continued to examine the necklace closely, she said, "Whoever owned this must be a really powerful person."

My eyes widened. A really powerful person. Did that mean that Samara really was a dragon wolf, and she had been using the necklace to suppress that?

"Yes," she nodded. "This necklace contains some pretty powerful magic. Magic beyond even what I know."

My heart beat a lot faster. "So, what does that mean? You cannot find her with just this?"

She looked at me. "If she was given this, it was meant to protect her from some really bad forces, and without it, she is unsafe. My fear is that you are already too late in trying to find her.”

“What do you mean it's already too late?” I asked, my heart beating fearfully.

She shook her head pitifully, then proceeded to sniff the necklace.

“So she's dead?” I asked the question that I feared the answer to the most.