Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Four
The man bore vicious, jagged scars that ripped from his hollow right eye socket and snaked downward like lightning frozen in flesh, cutting across his exposed chest. His lips peeled back into a deranged, wicked grin that made him look utterly, dangerously insane. Rowan stood before the shadowed figure and delivered his report in a low, clipped tone—what had transpired between Grey and Oliver, leaving the most important detail. The man listened without interruption, his single remaining eye gleaming with quiet calculation. He didn’t look surprised. If anything, he looked as though he had expected it.

“I see,” the man murmured, voice rough like gravel.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter, and casually slipped two sticks between his lips. The flame flared briefly, illuminating the grotesque map of scars on his face. He lit both, then plucked one from his mouth and extended it to Rowan.

Rowan accepted it without a word, placed it between his lips, and took a deep, greedy drag. The hot smoke burned down his throat and coiled in his lungs, offering a fleeting calm to his frayed nerves.

“I did everything I could,” Rowan said, exhaling slowly. “I even dragged up our shared past—the hell we barely survived. It should be enough to keep him leashed for now… but I doubt it’ll stop that bastard Grey’s twisted plan.”

The memory of Grey’s cruel, victorious grin flashing at him while Oliver was buried deep inside him made Rowan’s blood boil. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked, and his eyes flashed a dangerous crimson as his wolf surged dangerously close to the surface.

The scarred man tilted his head, studying him with dark amusement. “You seem pissed all of a sudden.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a mocking whisper. “Care to share what’s got you so riled up?”

Rowan scoffed and took two sharp steps back, irritation flaring hot in his chest. “You’d be pissed too if you’d seen what I saw.” His voice came out half-growl, fangs already lengthening behind his lips. “If I could rip that fucking bastard to pieces with my teeth…”

The man watched Rowan’s barely contained rage for a beat, then threw his head back and burst into loud, rasping laughter. When the laughter died, a wild, predatory grin split his scarred face.

“Come on now,” he drawled, eyes glinting with perverse delight. “I saw it too. And honestly? It was quite the sight.” He took a slow drag from his cigarette, smoke curling from his lips. “I wouldn’t mind watching it again.”

Rowan shot the man a sharp, piercing glare.

The scarred man raised both hands in mock surrender, but slowly lowered them again. That same deranged grin stayed fixed on his face.

“You shouldn’t be upset,” he said calmly. “This is actually good news.”

Rowan arched an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.

The man took his time, tilting his head slightly as he spoke.

“Grey… bending over and taking it up the ass. What a sight.” He let out a low chuckle. “I never thought I’d see that so soon, but here we are.”

Rowan let out a slow, frustrated sigh, the sound carrying more weight than he intended. He turned his head slightly, exhaling a thin ribbon of smoke into the dim air before finally speaking.

“What do we do?” his voice was lower now, edged with irritation. “We can’t just sit back and watch the Alpha fall in love with that bastard all over again…” His jaw tightened. “If that happens, it’s going to ruin everything we’ve built.”

For a brief moment, silence settled between them.

Then the man laughed.

It wasn’t a nervous laugh. It was calm—almost amused. As if Rowan’s panic was something mildly entertaining. He reached out and gave Rowan a rough, casual pat on the shoulder, completely unbothered.

“Calm down,” he said lightly. “The plan still stands.” His smile thinned slightly, something sharper slipping beneath it. “Some people’s pasts don’t get forgiven just because a small spark has been reignited.”

Rowan’s fists slowly clenched at his sides.

“You really need to take this seriously,” he snapped.

But just as quickly, his frustration faltered. His brows drew together, as though something had just clicked into place.

“…Wait.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “You already have something in mind, don’t you? A plan?”

A faint, almost delighted smile curved on the man’s lips.

“Boom,” he murmured.

That was all.

No explanation. No details.

But Rowan didn’t press further.

He trusted him—completely, without hesitation. So instead, he simply exhaled and forced himself to relax.

“That’s good to hear,” Rowan said after a pause. “I’ll take my leave.”

He turned.

One step.

Then another.

But before he could get far, an arm slid around his waist from behind.

Rowan froze.

The man pulled him back just slightly—not enough to hurt, just enough to stop him from leaving. His other hand settled casually as his jaw came to rest against Rowan’s shoulder, as though it belonged there.

His breath brushed warm against Rowan’s skin.

And then his voice dropped—low, dangerously quiet.

“Come on…” he murmured. “Don’t tell me you’re leaving just like that?”

Rowan had barely taken two steps—when he froze.
Something hard pressed against him from behind.

For a split second, his mind went blank. Then heat—sharp, furious—rushed through him. His teeth clenched so tightly it hurt. Magic surged instantly through his veins, gathering fast and violently at his elbow. He didn’t hesitate. He drove it backward.

The impact was brutal.

A dull, sickening thud echoed through the room as his magic-laced elbow slammed straight into the man’s abdomen.

The force sent him flying.

His body hit the wall with a deafening crack, the surface caving inward on impact, dust and debris scattering as a deep dent formed behind him.
Silence followed.
Then—A rough cough.
Blood splattered from the man’s lips as he crumpled to the ground, his body folding in on itself. Sweat broke out across his skin almost instantly, dripping in quick, uneven trails.

Rowan didn’t move.
His chest rose sharply, fury still burning—then faltered. His gaze flicked to the man against the wall.
…Did I go too far?
The thought came and went just as quickly. Even if it was him… that blow hadn’t been light.

His fingers twitched, but he stood his ground. “Learn to keep your hands to yourself, scum,” he said coldly.

A vein throbbed visibly at his temple, his voice low but shaking with restrained violence. “If not…” his eyes darkened, “I will kill you.”

For a moment, the man didn’t respond. He simply knelt there, breathing unevenly, blood trailing down from the corner of his mouth to his jaw.

Then—
He laughed.
Quiet at first.

He lifted a hand, wiping the blood away with the back of it, smearing red across his skin. Slowly—far too easily—he pushed himself back to his feet, one hand still pressing lightly against his stomach.

Rowan flinched.
Not outwardly—but enough.

That hit had been infused with his magic. It should have kept him down longer.

…As expected.
Rowan’s eyes narrowed slightly. He’s on another level. A flicker of unease passed through him. The only reason that strike had landed at all… was because the man hadn’t been taking him seriously.
If this had been a real fight—
Rowan suppressed the thought before it could fully form. He already knew the outcome wouldn’t be in his favor.

The man rolled his shoulders once, then tilted his head, a faint crack sounding from his neck as he loosened it.

And then he smiled.
“I knew you were devoted to the Alpha,” he said, voice still rough from the hit—but laced with amusement. “But I didn’t think it ran this deep…”

His eyes flicked toward Rowan, sharp and knowing.
“…to the point I’d get attacked just for shooting my shot.”

Rowan scoffed, though the tension in his body didn’t ease. “Give it up,” he said. “I would never betray the Alpha.”
His gaze hardened.
“You of all people should know that by now, Cassian.”

Cassian held Rowan’s gaze in silence for a long moment before exhaling a low, amused sigh.

“Keep feeding me information,” he said at last, voice velveted with a menace not directed to Oliver in any way, “and I’ll tear them apart if that’s what you want.”

“How long will it take to do the job?” Rowan asked coldly.

Cassian’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it deepened.

“Impatient, are we?” he drawled. Then, answering the question at last, he added, “A week. That’s all I need to teach that bastard a lesson… and make Ollie hate him all over again.”

He took a slow drag from his cigarette, watching the smoke curl lazily into the air. When it burned down to the end, he let it slip from his fingers. Without ceremony, he ground it under his heel and turned away, disappearing into the shadows without another word.



Grey returned to the Red Moon Pack just in time for his scheduled checkup with the pack doctor. Matthew stood beside him, posture stiff, face carefully unreadable.

Doctor Gerald knelt the moment Grey entered, head bowed in respect. “Alpha,” he said softly. “Shall I begin?”

Grey gave a small, dismissive wave of his hand.

“Proceed.”

Gerald first checked his pulse, fingers pressing carefully against Grey’s wrist. His expression remained neutral and controlled, as he counted and observed in silence. When he was done, he released Grey’s hand and gestured for him to open his shirt. Grey complied without a word.
Gerald adjusted his glasses slowly, the motion deliberate. Then he leaned in.

At first, it looked like a normal examination.

But then something changed in his gaze. The lenses of his glasses caught a faint glint as he focused more deeply—less like a man simply looking, more like someone seeing beyond what the eye should be able to see. And that was when it happened.

Inside Grey.

What had once been a thick, suffocating darkness began to unravel. It wasn’t just pain or curse anymore. It had been something heavier. Like smoke trapped too long in a closed room, curling endlessly inside him, choking every corner of his heart.

But now…

It was gone.

Gerald’s breath caught.

Where there had once been that dark, oppressive haze pressing against Grey’s core, there was nothing. No residue. No lingering corruption. No whisper of the curse that had once coiled itself around his heart like a living thing. His heart had returned to its natural state.

Gerald straightened abruptly, as if the sight itself had startled him back into his body.

Both Grey and Matthew noticed the shift immediately.

“Gerald…” Matthew’s voice broke the silence first. “Is something wrong?”

Grey said nothing, only watching the doctor with a quiet, steady gaze.

Gerald pushed his glasses up slowly, as though trying to convince himself of what he had just seen.

“My apologies, Alpha,” he said carefully, though his voice still carried disbelief. “I was… taken aback.”

He paused.

“The curse that once lingered in your body—it is gone. Completely. Even the traces… they’ve vanished.”

A heavier silence settled in the room.

“I have never witnessed anything like it before,” he added quietly. “Not once in my entire practice.”

Grey’s expression didn’t change.

“Leave,” he said simply.

Gerald bowed at once and exited.

The door shut softly behind him.

For a moment, neither man spoke.

Then Matthew turned slightly toward Grey, exhaustion etched into his face, his cheeks a little hollow as he forced a faint, dry smile. “…So,” he said slowly, “I’m guessing you’re living your best life now, hmm?”

Grey blinked once, as if processing the shift. “What the hell happened to you?” he asked instead. “I was gone for a few hours.”

Matthew let out a tired scoff. “Few hours?” he repeated. “Don’t insult me.”

His eyes narrowed.
“Since your little sunshine came back, I don’t even get ten minutes of rest in the day. Two hours of sleep at night, Grey. Two.”

Grey stiffened slightly.

Matthew leaned in just a bit, voice sharpening.
“At this point,” he muttered, “I deserve a raise. Or compensation. Or therapy.”