Chapter 265 DOMINANCE AND DESPAIR
Nixx
In an instant, he pounced, slamming into the wolf. They crashed together, but Percival had the upper hand. His back claws dug deep into the wolf’s flesh, tearing through it with ease. His jaws latched onto the male’s throat, his growl deep and menacing. There was no mercy in his eyes as he shook his head violently, ripping out the wolf's throat in one final act of dominance.
And just like that, it was over.
Three dead wolves lay in a pool of blood. The clearing was deathly silent, save for the quiet sobs of their mothers and mates. No one dared move. They were too terrified, too shocked by what they had just witnessed.
Percival stood over the bodies, his wolf breathing heavily, blood dripping from his fangs. His muscles rippled as he crouched low, letting out an angry growl, daring anyone to challenge him. His bloodlust wasn’t sated—he was still high on power, on victory.
Then, slowly, his wolf began to change. His bones cracked and shifted, shrinking, reshaping as the human form took over once more. The transformation was smooth, but brutal in its intensity.
When the shift was complete, there stood Percival. Blood streamed down his skin, his body gleaming in the light of the fire that cast shadows across his muscular frame. He was battered, his chest and legs torn in places, but he stood tall. His eyes glowed fiercely, like molten blue fire, as he looked around at the pack.
His gaze was hard, unyielding, and filled with a terrifying certainty. He glared at every wolf who dared meet his eyes, his voice a deep, thunderous growl. "I’m not the same wolf you all thought I was!" he bellowed, veins popping in his neck. "Every day, I get stronger! Submission is the old way now." His voice rose to a near roar. "If anyone wants to challenge me for my position, get ready to meet the moon!!!"
The pack stood frozen, trembling under his fury. No one dared make a sound.
No one moved. My dad stood frozen, eyes wide in horror at the gruesome spectacle before us. Mirabelle had her hand pressed to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks as she mourned the loss of what Percival had become.
Then, a slow clap echoed through the silence, growing into a chorus of hands joining in. Maxim and Gaspar stood side by side, their faces alight with a dark glee, reveling in the brutality they had just witnessed. Their laughter was twisted, the sound sending a shiver down my spine.
But Percival stood unmoving, his gaze icy and devoid of warmth. He had transformed into a monster—not through malice, but through fear. Fear had gripped the pack so tightly that no one dared to challenge him anymore.
Maxim strode forward, his eyes sparkling with delight. He looked down at the lifeless bodies of the three fallen wolves and spoke, his voice dripping with mock admiration. "Percival, I see my general has trained you well." His words hung in the air, a cruel taunt. The mothers of the fallen cried out in despair, while their fathers shot Percival venomous glares that quickly faded under the weight of the situation.
Suddenly, a sharp pain pierced through my heart, a twisting ache that coiled around my insides and squeezed. It felt like the weight of the world was crashing down on me. But these weren’t my feelings.
They belonged to Tatiana.
Tatiana, now is not the time to let down your guard!
The pressure in my chest intensified, forcing me down to my knees. I gasped as a stinging sensation erupted in my neck, my vision blurring at the edges. I felt light, as if I were drifting away, losing my grip on reality. Panic surged through me, and I fell to the ground, a cry escaping my lips as pain blossomed in my chest.
My dad rushed to my side, his expression etched with worry as my mom sprinted over, her face pale. "Tatara’s dad isn’t right! I feel like I’m going to die!" I gasped, desperation clawing at my throat.
“Go find her!” Dad barked, urgency thick in his voice.
Before I could protest, he scooped me up, throwing me over his shoulder as he sprinted toward the pack house. I closed my eyes, allowing the world around me to fade as my mind began to drift.
…
Percival
When Jack picked up Nixx and carried him away, curiosity tugged at me.
What’s going on with him?
I didn’t mind staying silent—I liked to talk when it suited me. So I let it be.
I took a step back and scanned the scene, taking in the aftermath.
Nothing stirred in me. Not anger. Not sadness. Not anything. Just… nothing.
And yet, somehow, that nothingness made me feel good. Almost happy.
Then came another loud roar from the pack house.
“Percival!!”
The deep voice echoed through the trees, and the energy around me shifted. Everyone turned toward Dad, who was sitting on the deck with his chest heaving, his golden eyes glowing faintly. There was a wolf struggling to break free beside him, snarling and restless. Dad didn’t wait—he bolted down the steps and sprinted toward the gathering circle.
The air grew heavy with tension. Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. They were frozen, too stunned by whatever they had just witnessed. I stood among them, still and silent, just watching.
Dad's voice exploded.
“What have you done?! This isn't how we solve problems! This isn’t how we do things!” His eyes blazed with disbelief, as if the sight before him shattered every rule he lived by.
Beside me, Maxim made a low noise in his throat. His voice came out rough and unapologetic.
“This is how it’s done where I come from.”
He stood solid, his presence like an unmovable mountain next to mine. Maxim was only twenty-eight, but somehow, he commanded more respect than any other wolf in the pack.
Dad whirled on him, his anger sharp. “Well, we’re not a bunch of savages!”
Hearing that word—savages—something inside me snapped.
My jaw clenched so tight it ached. Savages. Who gave him the right to decide what was wild or wrong? What even makes someone a savage?
I stalked forward, stepping over the bodies of dead wolves that lay in messy heaps, their broken forms carelessly discarded. Blood clung to the air like smoke. I kept walking until I stood face-to-face with Dad.
He was still the Alpha—for now. But I met his glare with cold, dead eyes.