The pack's low growls, a symphony of anticipation and unease, trailed behind us as we strode away from the brightly lit community center towards the secluded training grounds beyond. The air turned brisk, carrying the earthy tang of damp soil and pine that replaced the lingering scent of the hall. Alpha David Blackwater, my father, marched with rigid grace, his jaw clenched in silent fury. At his side, Kerev, the loyal beta bound in defeat, cast a shadow of grim resignation. And then there was Iris, escorted by my trusted followers, her delicate figure stark against the charged atmosphere crackling around us.
Silence settled over the field like a heavy shroud as the confrontation commenced—a charged tension hanging in the air, waiting to be unleashed. Stripped of his Alpha mantle by my hand, my father resembled a trapped animal, his once authoritative stance now a facade of desperation.
We squared up in the center of the training field with countless pack members now outside of it giving us a wide berth. With a desperate lunge fueled by panic, he aimed a clumsy strike that I effortlessly evaded. In that moment, a surge of power—meticulously honed and cloaked—rushed through me; an intoxicating blend of righteousness and something sinister—an icy resolve that thrilled me to the core.
As Father's fist sailed past my ear, I twisted away with a taunting smirk. "Is that all you've got left, old man?" My words dripped with mockery as I danced back into position.
He growled menacingly, his movements becoming more erratic as frustration clouded his judgment. "You will pay for this treachery," he spat out between gritted teeth.
My laughter rang out across the field as I deftly dodged another wild swing. "I already have," I retorted with a swift counterattack that knocked him off balance.
The clash of our bodies echoed through the still night air as we circled each other like predators sizing up their prey. Each movement was deliberate and calculated, every strike meant to inflict maximum damage. The tension crackled around us like electricity waiting to surge.
With a sudden burst of speed, Father lunged forward again, aiming for my midsection. I sidestepped smoothly and delivered a punishing blow to his ribs. The impact reverberated through my arm as he staggered back, wheezing with the force of my strike.
"Is that all you learned from me?" His voice was laced with bitterness as he regained his footing, determination flashing in his eyes.
I smirked back at him, savoring the fear flickering in his eyes. "I learned how to make someone suffer." With a calculated feint, I drew him in before crushing my knuckles into his sternum, feeling the satisfying crack of bone beneath my fist.
The clash continued under the moonlit sky, but it wasn't a fight—it was a slow execution. Each blow I landed was designed to maximize pain without granting the mercy of unconsciousness. I circled him like a predator, drinking in his whimpers between labored breaths.
As we neared the edge of the field, Father stumbled backward, desperation replacing his earlier confidence. His wild swings left his ribs exposed—I drove my elbow into the same spot repeatedly, relishing how he crumpled further with each strike, his face contorting in agony that fed something dark and hungry inside me.
His voice cracked pathetically. "You think you can defy everything we stand for?"
I let him charge, savoring the desperation in his eyes, the sweat beading on his temple. At the last possible second, I sidestepped and drove my knee into his stomach, relishing the wet gasp that escaped his lips. I grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back to expose his throat. "I stand for something greater than your pitiful reign," I whispered against his ear, my lips curling into a smile as I slammed my elbow into his spine, feeling something give way beneath the blow.
I toyed with him like a cat with a wounded mouse, letting him believe he had a chance before shattering that hope with each bone-crushing blow. Blood sprayed from his mouth as my fist connected with his jaw, and I savored the warm droplets on my skin. His pathetic whimpers were music to my ears.
When I saw defeat finally register in his eyes, I smiled. David's panic was delicious—his breathing ragged, sweat-soaked and trembling. He turned to flee, the great Alpha reduced to prey. I could have ended him cleanly, but where was the fun in that? I calculated my move with surgical precision, tripping him toward Iris. The sound of his body colliding with hers—that wet crack of bone meeting bone—sent a thrill of pleasure through me. Her fragile form crumpled beneath him, her scream cut short. I arranged my features into mock horror for the pack's benefit, but inside, I was laughing. The perfect tableau: David, the monster who attacked his mate in desperation.
The shock on his face was delicious—his mouth agape in a silent scream, eyes bulging with the sudden comprehension that I'd been planning this moment for years. I smiled, savoring his terror like fine wine as sweat beaded on his ashen forehead. I leaned in close, whispering, "Did you really think I'd let you live?" before delivering the final blow—my knuckles connecting with his jaw in a strike I deliberately slowed to prolong his suffering. The satisfying crack of bone beneath my fist made me shiver with pleasure. I watched him die slowly, memorizing every twitch, every gurgle, every desperate attempt to draw breath, determined to revisit this perfect moment in my dreams.
I let myself linger in a secret ecstasy, that copper tang of victory thrilling my tongue like the richest wine, before donning my mask of mourning for the grateful eyes of the pack. With a rehearsed gasp—one that trembled just enough to seem genuine—I knelt beside Iris's collapsed form, molding my posture into the perfect portrait of a shattered son. The earth under my knees still radiated warmth from the struggle, coarse pebbles pressing into my skin as if urging me forward.
"Oh, Mother," I breathed, each syllable oozing with contrived sorrow, my voice a silken lament designed to ensnare the most skeptical heart. "I'm so, so sorry I failed you." My hand drifted lightly to her neck, feigning desperate tenderness as my fingertips discovered that faint flutter of life beneath her fragile skin. A thrill of amusement sparked through me, dazzling and sharp, but I concealed it behind a veil of grief. My lips curved into the subtlest smirk—almost imperceptible—before I swallowed it down, tucking that delicious secret away.
"She is gone," I intoned, letting the finality of my words hang heavy in the stunned hush that followed. "Beta Kyle," I added, my tone soft yet commanding, "see that her body is carried back to the manor. We will honor her with the dignity she deserves." Kyle hesitated, eyes flickering between loyalty and doubt, and I seized his arm with tender insistence.
"But she is not dead," I whispered, my voice dropping to an intimate hush that only he could hear, loaded with concealed menace. "Bring her to the dungeons. Guard her life—and her secret—with your very breath. No one must ever know she still draws air."
Kyle's lips twisted into a knowing grin, the same dark spark of amusement reflecting in his gaze, and he obeyed. Iris was lifted like a fragile treasure, carried toward the suffocating blackness below the manor. I watched the corridor swallow them, already savoring how utterly she would crumble.
Turning to Kerev and his daughter Lori—fierce Kerev, still thrashing helplessly, and fragile Lori, sobbing soft pleas—I let my voice flow as smooth as honey laced with steel. "Bring them to the prison," I directed. "We cannot risk harboring those loyal to the old Alpha. Not one soul can remain who might threaten our future."
Kerev roared in rage, but his resistance only emphasized his vulnerability. Lori whimpered, her tears lost in the echo of my decree, as my warriors dragged them away—two more pieces moved on my board, unaware of just how completely they'd been ensnared.
The silence that had descended upon the pack was perfect—exactly as I had calculated it would be. My father lay where I'd positioned him, eyes frozen in terror, a tableau I'd mentally rehearsed for years. I allowed a single tear to slide down my cheek—just enough moisture to glisten in the moonlight without ruining my appearance. Rising slowly, I dusted off my hands with deliberate gentleness, a grieving son reluctantly accepting his burden rather than a predator savoring his kill. I swept my gaze across their faces, noting which ones averted their eyes (the weak), which ones stared back (the threats), and which ones looked relieved (my first allies). I let my shoulders slump just slightly, the picture of reluctant duty, while inside I savored their collective intake of breath—that beautiful moment when prey realizes it's been cornered.
I spread my arms, palms up, as if offering myself to the pack. "The reign of David Blackwater is over," I said, my voice breaking just enough to suggest grief while my eyes remained dry. The pack stood frozen before me, their expressions a delicious canvas of confusion. "My father—" I paused, swallowing visibly, "—forced my hand today." Several wolves nodded, exactly as I'd anticipated. I stepped closer to them, lowering my voice to draw them in. "I never wanted this power," I lied, watching relief soften their faces. "But I cannot allow his legacy of weakness to continue." I turned suddenly toward Kerev being dragged away, his daughter's sobs providing the perfect soundtrack. "Look at them," I whispered, as if sharing a confidence. "Still loyal to a man who would have sacrificed you all." I touched the shoulder of the nearest wolf, feeling him flinch then lean into my grip. "Those who stood with him will face justice," I promised, my smile suggesting mercy my heart had no intention of granting.
My gaze swept over the assembled faces, lingering deliberately on the weakest among them. I softened my eyes for the mothers, hardened them for the warriors—each mask perfectly fitted to its target. "I know many of you loved my father," I said, my voice breaking just enough, "and this burden feels..." I looked down, let my hands tremble visibly before steadying them. "Will you accept me as your next Alpha?" I whispered, as if the question terrified me too. Several wolves stepped forward immediately—the ones I'd privately promised positions to last month. Their theatrical displays of loyalty triggered the cascade I'd orchestrated, and I watched them fall to their knees one by one, throats bared, exactly as I'd rehearsed in my mind for years.
The taste of power was narcotic. I watched them, one after another, their eyes shuttered with terror or hope or some sick, hybrid cocktail of both. The air stank of sweat, of fear—of old blood being swept up by something new and hungrier. I wanted to laugh, I wanted to howl, but instead I let my head fall forward, hiding the smile that threatened my lips. Let them think me haunted. Let them believe I was a reluctant king grieving his predecessor. Let them imagine a heart beating in my ribs—while I imagined each of theirs torn out and fed to them, still pulsing, one by one. Those fools who'd licked my father's boots would soon be begging to lick the blood from mine.