*****Tyler's Pov****
As I distanced myself from the Red Moon Pack's border, I turned to glance back, and my eyes widened in realization – I was indeed far away from the territory. The encounter with Tyler still lingered in my mind, and I couldn't shake off the feeling of a connection, though I struggled to pinpoint its nature. It was as if our brief interaction had sparked something within me, leaving me with more questions than answers.
Upon arriving at the pack house, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. I promptly unloaded the dead meat from the cart, leaving it in the capable hands of the pack's butcher. As I made my way to the kitchen, my stomach growled with hunger, and I hoped to find a satisfying meal awaiting me. However, my expectations were dashed when I discovered that there was nothing prepared specifically for me – just leftovers. A pang of sadness struck me, as it seemed no one had remembered to keep my dinner aside.
With no other option, I reluctantly scavenged the leftovers, my hunger overriding my disappointment. After finishing the meager meal, I went on to do the dishes, the mundane task providing a sense of normalcy after the events of the day. As I worked, my mind wandered back to Tyrant, and the mysterious connection I felt with him. I wondered if our paths would cross again, and what the future might hold. For now, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the tasks at hand, and the quiet routine of pack life.
As I trudged back to my room, exhaustion seeped into my bones like a chill. The moment I stepped inside, a wave of anger crashed over me, threatening to consume me whole. I felt like I was drowning in a sea of emotions, with the pain of my mother's loss still festering like an open wound. The rumors about the king's involvement in her death only added fuel to the fire that burned within me. According to the pack elders, I might be his son, but the thought made my stomach churn with revulsion. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was living a lie, that my entire existence was a twisted game of deception.
I stormed over to my wardrobe, the worn-out clothes hanging like skeletons, mocking me with their emptiness. I snatched my phone, my fingers trembling with rage as I dialed my assistant's number. The human world, where I had built a empire, seemed like a distant memory, a facade that hid the truth of my miserable existence here. It had been a decade since I left, leaving my assistant to navigate the treacherous waters of business. I trusted him with my life, but even that trust felt like a fragile thread, ready to snap at any moment.
The phone vibrated in my hand, a cold, impersonal sound that seemed to mock my desperation. My assistant didn't answer, and I was left with nothing but the deafening silence. I hurled the phone across the room, watching as it shattered against the wall, the pieces scattering like shards of my own shattered dreams. I collapsed onto the wet bed, the dampness seeping into my clothes like a cold, clammy shroud. The memory of Jackson's smirking face flashed before my eyes, his laughter echoing in my mind like a cruel taunt.
A snarl twisted my lips as I thought about the prank that had left me drenched and humiliated. If given the chance, I would make him pay for his insolence, would make him beg for mercy. My mind began to wander, drifting back to Tyke and the memories that haunted me like a specter. As the darkness closed in, I felt myself slipping into a nightmare, the images of the past swirling together in a chaotic dance of pain and anger.
***The king of red moon pack**** Tyler's father***
"ARGH!" A primal scream tore through my being, shattering the darkness as I wrestled with the infuriating truth: Tyler, that insolent little wretch, seemed to be surpassing me. I, Lucifer, the King of the Underworld, Lord of Darkness, and ruler of the damned, felt my dominance threatened by my own son. The very thought ignited a firestorm of rage within me, as if the fires of hell itself were burning in my veins.
I'd claimed the powers of my triplets, but Tyler's abilities were like a festering wound, refusing to be assimilated into my being. Every attempt to harness them ended in agony, as if my essence was rebelling against the intrusion. The last time I'd tried, I'd nearly succumbed to asphyxiation, my lungs scorched by the absence of oxygen. But I'd endured, thanks to my devilish physiology, which allowed me to survive for eternity without the petty human need for breath.
The notion of acknowledging Tyler as my offspring was an affront to my dignity. As the son of the Morning Star, Azazel, and the most powerful being in the underworld, I expected nothing but perfection from my progeny. Nicholas, my eldest son, embodied the very essence of demonic perfection – strong, cunning, and ruthless. Tyler, on the other hand, was a constant thorn in my side, a reminder that even the most powerful of beings can be brought low by their own progeny.
I'd never accept him as my own, not when he so flagrantly defied my expectations. My legacy would be defined by Nicholas, not some insolent upstart like Tyler. As I seethed with anger, the shadows around me seemed to deepen, as if the very darkness itself was responding to my malevolent energy. My eyes blazed with fury, illuminating the dark recesses of my lair. I would not be outdone by my own son. I would crush Tyler, and assert my dominance once and for all. The thought sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, I reveled in the darkness that lurked within me.
As I stood there, seething with anger and frustration, the unexpected arrival of Nicholas caught me off guard. He burst into the room, his presence a stark contrast to the dark, brooding atmosphere that had settled around me. This wasn't like him – Nicholas typically preferred to unwind in serene environments, surrounded by the finer things in life. His sudden appearance, especially in a place like this, left me puzzled. What could have driven him to seek me out in this moment?
I studied his expression, trying to read the emotions that played across his face. Was he anxious? Concerned? Or perhaps he had news that he couldn't share through our usual channels? Whatever the reason, it was clear that something had brought him to this place, and to me, in this state.
"Nicholas," I said, my voice low and even, "what brings you here?" My tone was measured, but my mind was racing with possibilities. Had something happened to Tyler? Had there been a development in our plans that I wasn't aware of? I waited for him to respond, my curiosity piqued.