Chapter 188: Weak alpha
Chapter 187
Marius Florence
The study smells of leather and old paper. Rain streaks the tall windows, blurring the city beyond. I sit behind my desk—the same desk my father used, and his father before him—and I do not panic.
Panic is for men who have already lost. This is nothing. I know that bastard is behind this.
"We can contain this," my lawyer says. His name is Whitmore. He has served my family for thirty years. His suit is grey, his hands are steady, his voice is calm. "The charges are serious, but not insurmountable. Environmental protection statutes are complex. We can argue ignorance of the specific regulations—"
"Can we?"
"Yes. If we establish that you were unaware the species were protected—"
"Yes, we can go that route."
"Yes, yes, and we can—"
I look at them scrambling for a solution. Normally I wouldn’t even need lawyers. I’m a noble. A Duke.
Let the courts handle it? How ridiculous. This is embarrassing. My father doesn’t even want to involve himself, but I could feel the disappointment rolling off him in waves.
"Just find out who the judge is," I say.
Whitmore looks at me, and at the nervous lawyers looking at him for direction. He’s one of the best lawyers around and was officially retired—but for the right amount of funds, no one is retired.
"The charges are serious, but not insurmountable," he repeats carefully. "Environmental protection statutes are complex. We can argue ignorance of the specific regulations—"
I tap my fingers on the table, impatient.
He exhales.
"With His Majesty saying the courts should handle it... no judge is willing to risk it."
My jaw clenches.
"That means the battle will have to happen in court and the media. But the media is well..." He pauses. "We’ve tried, but the negative press is drowning whatever efforts we try to put in."
"I want a statement prepared," I say. "Something dignified. I’ll express regret for any misunderstanding. I’ll announce a donation to wildlife conservation. I’ll release a few of the animals back into—"
"Your Grace." Whitmore’s voice is quiet. Firm. "It’s too late for that."
I’m about to speak when the door opens and the housekeeper burges in, her face pale.
"Your Grace," she says. "There are men at the door—"
She doesn’t finish her statement before two police officers walk into my office.
I’m about to yell at them, but I make eye contact with Whitmore, who shakes his head.
I stand up.
I don’t resist as they handcuff my hands behind my back. They both hold my forearms, and I struggle out of their hold.
"Don’t hold me like a common criminal. I’m cooperative," I say.
The two officers exchange looks before they let me go, but still walk on both my sides.
I walk down the stairs, ignoring the looks from the staff, out the door—only to see a crowd outside the gates with several police cars and a barricade.
The is.... a crowd.
They’re pressed against the barricades, held back by police in riot gear. Cameras flash—so many cameras, blinding and relentless. Reporters shout my name, their voices overlapping into a wall of noise.
"Duke Florence!"
"Your Grace, do you have a comment?"
"Did you know the animals were endangered?"
"How do you respond to the allegations of cruelty?"
I keep my head high. My face blank. I will not give them the satisfaction.
I walk toward the waiting police car.
"Animal killer!" someone screams from the crowd. "You tortured those creatures!"
"Disgusting!"
"Monster!"
Focus on the car. Focus on the car, if I react now it will only be used against me.It feels like the steps to the police SUV are taking too long.
The people are pushing. There are cameras in my face, insults. It’s nothing—they are just envious. When else can they ever do this to a Duke? Once this is over, I’ll have my dues with everyone here today.
Something wet and cold splatters against my cheek.
I stop.
The smell is horrible. It’s a rotting tomato—its juices choke me, and it splatters onto my white dress shirt.
Who dared to—
But the barricade breaks.
There’s yanking—I’m being yanked away, into the crowd. Hands grab at my coat. My hair is plucked. Someone’s nails rake down my arm.
"Get off me!" I snarl. "Get off!"
The officers are shouting. Batons raised. But the crowd is a living thing now—a beast with too many hands, too many voices.
A fist connects with my jaw. My head snaps back.
Another hand grabs my collar. Another pulls my hair.
"This is for the tigers!" someone screams.
"This is for every animal you tortured!"
I can’t see. I can’t breathe. The tomato juice is in my eyes, my mouth. The world is red and noise and pain.
The officers are pulling at me now—trying to extract me from the crowd. But the hands keep coming. The fists keep landing.
"Your Grace!" One of the officers has my arm. "Hold on!"
I’m dragged. Half-carried. Half-thrown.
The car door opens. I’m shoved inside.
It slams shut.
The world goes quiet.
I lie on the seat. My chest heaves. My face throbs. My hair is a mess. My shirt is ruined. There’s blood in my mouth.
The officers are in the front seats. One of them is breathing hard. The other is speaking into his radio.
I don’t hear them.
**
I sit on the hard chair, waiting for Whitmore. My hands are still cuffed. The room is small—grey walls, a metal table, a single flickering light. The kind of room they put common criminals in.
I am not a common criminal.
The door opens.
The person who walks in is not my lawyer.
It’s the bastard prince.
"Oh, don’t glare at me, Duke," he says, and walks in, taking a seat opposite me. His posture is relaxed with a smile that does not reach his eyes.
"You think this will do something to me?" I say. "I’m a duke. There’s nothing you can do to me. In no time, I’ll be out of here."
"My, when you put it like that, you make it sound like I’m behind this."
He tilts his head, not even trying to hide it.
"Happy? I know you’re the one behind everything else too."
"Oh no." He waves a hand. "You must have pissed off someone. You know what they say—don’t mess with old ladies, children, and other alphas’ omegas."
His voice turns cold.
I laugh at him.
"Is this what this is about? The rose? What did the Baron come to tattle? Don’t be ridiculous." I lean back in my chair.
"Genuinely, how can I let go of him? Once any alpha gets a taste of his hole and pheromones, it drives you insane, doesn’t it?"
The prince’s expression doesn’t change.
"You think you’re different from us?" I press. "The only thing is, you’re stupid enough to plant your seed in him. But I suppose when I think about it—" I tilt my head, smiling. "—a weaker alpha wouldn’t resist it, huh, Prince?"
The chair scrapes back.One moment he’s across from me, the next moment I’m in the air, and my body slams against the concrete wall.
I feel the impact deep in my bones. The air leaves my lungs in one violent rush. I slide to the floor, gasping, choking, seeing stars.
He walks toward me. His footsteps are slow. Deliberate.
He punches the wall next to my ear.
The impact is deafening. Concrete cracks. Dust rains down. My ear rings.
"I know you were trying to get a rise out of me," he says quietly. "You’ve succeeded."
He leans closer. His voice drops.
"Don’t you ever talk about Ciel like that. I just might lose my temper and not miss my punch next time."
He straightens.
"You’re right, you know. I can’t exactly do anything to you, Duke." He tilts his head. "But I can and will make your life a living hell. Everything Ciel went through—this is just the beginning."
I scoff but instead end up coughing out blood.He walks toward the door.
Then he stops.
Walks back.
Kicks me in the abdomen.
Hard.
I feel ribs crack. The pain is white-hot. Blinding. I curl in on myself, gasping, unable to breathe.
"I feel so much better," he says and walks out for good this time.