Chapter 84: Delusion
Chapter 84
Alric
"Father," my son says again, his voice grating, useless.
"Out." The word rips from me, sharp, loud, echoing against the stone walls. I don’t even look at him. I don’t want to.
The door shuts behind him, and I’m alone again. Alone with this room, these walls that press closer every day. Alone with the silence that won’t stop ringing in my ears.
I pace the length of the chamber, boots dragging against stone. My breath echoes back at me, ragged, uneven.
They don’t see it. They don’t see the vision. Hardship isn’t failure—it’s a crucible. A test. White Stone will survive this, and when it does, it will be stronger than ever. I will be stronger than ever.
I imagine their faces—those sneering elders, whispering in shadows, thinking me unfit, thinking me weak. They sit in their caves, their bellies empty, and dare call me unworthy? They know nothing of weight. Nothing of sacrifice.
But I do.
Without me they’d be carcasses rotting in the woods, drained dry by fangs. The mercenaries—they hate them, but the mercenaries keep us alive. Every dead vampire on our borders is proof of my foresight, my strength to make the sacrifes.
"Heavy is the crown, Alric. You can’t handle it."
The voice slithers through the dark, and I freeze. Eamon. Always Eamon. My brother’s shadow presses on me even now.
"No!" I scream, throat raw, spittle flying. "I can handle it! I will handle it!"
The silence swallows my words, but my chest heaves, my nails bite into my palms until I feel blood.
I force myself out of my chamber, my steps heavy, my chest tight. I am Alpha of White Stone. I am the leader.
I find him in the kitchen—my kitchen—sitting there as if it belongs to him. He doesn’t rise when I enter. He doesn’t even pause. He tears into meat with his hands, grease on his fingers, washing it down with my wine. The audacity burns me, but I swallow it down. I have to.
"Oh, pack leader Maen," he says, his voice thick with food, the title dripping with mockery.
How dare he? How dare he sit at my table, eat my food, and sneer at my title? But I keep my face straight, because I can’t afford to show weakness.
"There’ve been reports of another wolf dead on the outskirts," I say, my voice trying for authority but sounding tighter than I want.
"How close are you to the vampire nest? It’s been months."
He doesn’t even look at me. He wipes his greasy fingers on my tablecloth—my mother’s tablecloth, embroidered by her own hand years ago—and drinks his wine.
"We’re close," he says.
That’s it. Two words. Empty. Useless.
Anger flares in my chest, but it’s mingled with fear. I dig my nails into my palms until I nearly bleed.
"Close?" I snap.
"I need valid answers. Results. Not excuses."
He sighs, as though I bore him. Then he stands. Slowly. Deliberately. The kind of rise meant to remind me how much larger, how much more dangerous, he is. And goddess help me, I flinch. My body betrays me even as I force myself not to step back.
"You think finding a vampire nest is easy?" he asks, his eyes sharp, his voice low.
"Why don’t you find it yourself?"
My throat tightens. "You’ve been paid," I shoot back. "I expect results."
"Payment?" he says softly, dangerously. "Do you think coin is what keeps me here?"
His words coil like a snake around my ribs.
"I accepted this job because I thought I’d find myself with an omega worth my time," he continues, his tone casual but his eyes cruel.
"But she’s gone. Mated. Not even here. I can’t even enjoy her. Yet still, I came. Begrudgingly. Because your coffers were open."
My jaw works, but no sound comes out. Every instinct screams at me to shout, to strike him down, to remind him whose territory this is. But I don’t. Because the truth gnaws at me—I can’t.
"Payment," he says again, stepping even closer, close enough that I can smell the blood still on his hands from earlier hunts.
"Payment is not the reason your little pack still breathes. My presence here is what keeps the vampires from razing your lands. I can leave. Tonight. And then we’ll see how long White Stone lasts."
He leans down so we are eye to eye. My heart pounds, but my body won’t move.
"Tell me, Pack Leader Alric," he sneers, drawing out my title until it feels like a curse.
"Do you think you can take on a nest of vampires yourself?"
***
Mercenary Pack leader
Of course he’s frozen still. Silent. I can practically smell the fear rolling off him. This might be the easiest con we’ve ever pulled.
We’ve been circling this pack for months, waiting. Watching. Waiting for their true alpha to croak.
An alpha is an alpha—even a sick one has teeth. But this fool? This pathetic excuse of a leader? He’s nothing but a shell hiding behind a title. Makes my job easier.
This whole pack is mine.
We’ve been treated like kings since the day we arrived—food, shelter, coin, and their best resources thrown at our feet. They bow without us even asking. No respect needs to be earned here. They’ve already given it away.
Once we’ve rung this place dry, once every last ounce of wealth and usefulness has been stripped, we’ll leave.
Same as always.
I take a slow step back, drawling the words just to twist the knife deeper.
"Thought so," I say, letting the sneer curl at the corner of my mouth.
He doesn’t answer. He can’t.
I scoff inwardly, turn on my heel, and walk away.
They’ve been careful since we arrived. Careful with their words, careful with their women. Hiding them away like precious jewels locked in a chest.
As if that’ll stop me.
I need some action. Something worth sinking my teeth into.
Human women? They’ll do in a pinch, but they’re not the same. They don’t carry the fire, the resistance, the intoxicating pull of wolf blood. Once you’ve had the real thing, everything else tastes like ash.
And gods, what I wouldn’t give for an omega. The rarest prize, the sweetest taste.
Still, a pack this large? Sooner or later, something will fall into my lap. And when it does, it’ll remind me why this little game is worth playing.