Chapter 96 Fernando Is A Jerk
Fernando sat in the elder's chamber long after the meeting had ended, the heavy wooden table still littered with parchments and scrolls detailing the mate duel's budget and invitations. The room felt stuffy, the air thick with the scent of ink and aged paper. The elders had left with nods of approval, their footsteps fading down the corridor. Fernando's hand rested on the table, fingers drumming slowly as he stared at the list of packs. The duel was set, the wheels in motion, but the emptiness in his chest grew with every passing hour. Alberto had been avoiding him since the revelation, the bond between them stretched thin, a constant ache that no amount of work could dull.
Darius lingered near the door, arms crossed, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He had not spoken since the meeting, but Fernando could feel his gaze burning into him.
Fernando looked up finally. "Darius, have you seen Alberto?"
Darius uncrossed his arms and stepped closer to the table. "Did you not know Alberto does not even want to breathe the same air as you?"
Fernando's jaw tightened. "I am aware. But I am still concerned."
Darius shook his head. "Concerned. After what you did in that meeting? Denying him, calling him a bed warmer. You expect him to come running back?"
Fernando stood, the chair scraping back. "I did it to protect him."
Darius's voice was low. "Protect him by humiliating him? He heard it all. The whispers. The doubts. You think he wants to see you now?"
Fernando's eyes flashed. "I need to know he is safe."
Darius sighed. "Then go look. But do not be surprised if he slams the door in your face."
Fernando nodded curtly and excused himself, leaving the chamber with long strides. The corridors of the pack house were quiet in the early evening, most wolves preparing for dinner or resting after the day's work. He headed first to Alberto's room in the slave quarters, the place he had insisted on returning to despite Fernando's order to move to the main house. The door was closed, no light spilling from under it.
He knocked softly. "Alberto?"
No answer.
He pushed the door open. The room was empty. The cot was made, the small table clear, no sign of occupancy. The basin of water was fresh, unused. Alberto had not been here recently.
Fernando's heart sank. He closed the door and headed to the training ground, the place where Alberto had spent most of his time since the duel was announced. The yard was dimly lit by torches, a few elite wolves practicing late, their swords clashing in the twilight. No sign of Alberto.
Samael arrived then, striding in from the side gate with a group of guards in tow. He was switching the shifts, assigning some to help with the contestants' corpses from the earlier duels or tending to the wounded still recovering in the infirmary. Samael barked orders, his voice carrying across the yard.
Fernando approached him. "Samael. Have you seen Alberto?"
Samael turned, his expression neutral. "He went with the soldiers to escort the merchants over to the pack. Will be away for a few days."
Fernando's brow furrowed. "Merchants? What merchants?"
Samael shrugged. "The supply caravan from the southern borders. He volunteered. Said he needed the time."
Fernando's voice dropped. "It is that hard for him to understand me?"
Samael pushed him lightly toward the exit. "The duel will resume soon. The Alpha needs to be seated. Go."
Fernando resisted for a moment, but Samael pushed again, firmer. "Now."
Fernando turned and walked away, the weight in his chest heavier than before.
He moved through the corridors, mind racing. Alberto gone again. Escorting merchants. Avoiding him. The bond felt faint, distant. He had to find a way to make this right.
He reached a corner and paused, hearing voices.
Eliana stepped out from the shadows, smiling. "Fernando."
He straightened. "Eliana."
She moved closer, pushing him gently against the wall. "You look tense."
Her hands rested on his chest. "Let me help."
She leaned in, flirting with her eyes. "The duel is resuming soon. You need to relax."
Fernando tried to step away. "Eliana—"
She crashed her lips on his, hands fisting in his tunic.
Fernando froze.
Alberto, rounding the corner from the other side, saw the scene. His heart shattered. He backed away silently, tears welling, before turning and running.
Eliana pulled back, smiling. "See? Better already."
Fernando pushed her away. "Not now."
He walked off, leaving her confused.
Alberto hurried through the pack house corridors, his boots barely making a sound on the stone floors. The celebration in the courtyard still echoed faintly behind him, laughter and music drifting like distant thunder, but he moved with purpose, heart pounding. The image of Eliana kissing Fernando had burned itself into his mind—her lips on his, Fernando’s hands on her waist, the way he had not pushed her away immediately. The bond twisted in his chest, sharp and painful, making every breath feel like swallowing glass.
He reached the narrow staircase leading to the lower levels, the part of the pack house few ever visited. Mira’s secret room was hidden behind a false wall in the old storage corridor, a place she had claimed years ago for private work. Alberto had been there only once before, when she had stitched a deep wound on his arm after a training accident. He found the loose stone, pressed it, and the wall slid aside with a low scrape.
Mira stood inside, already waiting. A single lantern cast soft light over the small space: shelves lined with jars of herbs, a narrow cot, a table with bandages and salves. She looked up as he entered, her expression shifting from calm to concern the moment she saw his face.
“Alberto,” she said quietly. “Come here.”
He closed the wall behind him and stepped forward. Mira moved to him immediately, hands gentle but firm as she guided him to sit on the cot. She reached behind his neck and removed the small pouch she had given him earlier—the one laced with herbs that masked his scent. The moment it was gone, the faint trace of his natural smell returned, mingling with sweat and blood.
Mira set the pouch aside and began unwrapping the bandages on his arms and chest. “You are bleeding again.”
Alberto did not answer. Tears fell freely now, silent and unstoppable, sliding down his cheeks and dripping onto his hands. The scene replayed in his head: Eliana’s confident smile, the way Fernando had stiffened but not pulled back, the kiss that had lasted just long enough to shatter something inside him.
Mira paused, cloth in hand. “What is wrong?”
Alberto shook his head, voice thick. “Nothing. Just… tired.”
Mira knelt in front of him, cupping his face gently. “You are not tired. You are hurting. Tell me.”
Alberto swallowed hard. “Eliana. She kissed him. Right in the corridor. And he… he did not push her away right away.”
Mira’s expression softened with understanding. She wiped his tears with her thumb. “Eliana.”
Alberto looked at her. “Who is she to him?”
Mira sat beside him on the cot. “Eliana was supposed to be Fernando’s bride. Years ago, before his father died. The arrangement was made between the packs for alliance. They were young. It never got finalized. When Rafael passed, Fernando canceled everything. Said he would choose his own path.”
Alberto stared at the floor. “So she still thinks she has a claim.”
Mira nodded slowly. “She does. In her mind. And in some of the elders’ minds. That is why she came for the duel. She believes she can win and take what was promised.”
Alberto wiped his face. “And Fernando? Does he want her?”
Mira hesitated. “I do not think so. But he has not shut her down completely. He is… conflicted. Always has been.”
Alberto’s voice cracked. “He told me I was not ready to rule beside him. That is why the duel. He does not want me there.”
Mira took his hand. “He is scared. Not of you, but of what claiming you publicly means. The challenges. The judgment. The elders pushing for a strong alliance match.”
Alberto looked away. “I am not strong enough for him.”
Mira squeezed his hand. “You are stronger than he realizes. And stronger than he is in some ways. You just saved Kael. You guided spirits under the blood moon. You survived the Sands of the Lost. That is not weakness.”
Alberto’s tears slowed. “Then why does it feel like it?”
Mira pulled him into a gentle hug. “Because love hurts when it is not returned the way we need. But you are not alone.”
Alberto leaned into her for a moment, then pulled back. “I need to be stronger. For me. Not just for him.”
Mira nodded. “Then rest. Heal. The duel is coming. And if you face Eliana…”
Alberto looked at her. “What?”
Mira’s voice was serious. “If you ever have to face her in the duel, retreat. Or fall out. She has one of the rarest wolves. As strong as a Lycan wolf, both in weapon and in power.”
Alberto frowned. “Why did she not become a general then?”
Mira smiled faintly. “She is a princess who hates stress. The general position is too much work. Too much responsibility. She prefers the title and the freedom to do what she wants.”
Alberto nodded slowly. “I understand.”
Mira stood. “Rest now. I will bring you food later.”
Alberto watched her leave, then lay back on the cot, staring at the ceiling.