Chapter 31: The Bad Rule
Lucas’s POV
Beside the corner were two maids, two female maids as their tunics dress was loosened and half-untied. They were locked in a passionate kiss, their hands roaming freely over each other’s naked curves, attracted to any man who wants to have them. They didn’t notice me. One maid tilted her head back, giggling some soft words to the other as the other’s lips trailed down to her cleavage as she sucks on her peaches, massaging the other with her free arms. Her second could only let out loud moans as her eyes were shut, enjoying every touch and feelings.
Beside them were empty bottles of alcoholic wines, obviously they had gone drunk.
Warborn, my father’s pack, had become a place where such scenes were no longer shocking. Under Alpha Trent’s rule, discipline had eroded and doesn’t exist. The pack had always been a chaotic sprawl of indulgence and neglect. The servants pleasured themselves openly. Guards gambled away their wages in the barracks, and rumors of black-market trades, stolen goods and even pilfered pack relics circulated freely. I’d seen it all. And even high-ranking pack members turned a blind eye to the debauchery. Not like some of them were comfortable with what’s happening but they dared not question my father. They knew his personality and never tried to mess around him.
My father, Alpha Trent, knew of these indiscretions, particularly the open displays of affection among both genders. But yet, he did nothing. In fact, he enjoyed every bit of it and I do not think there would be improvement any time soon.
Years ago, I’d confronted him about it. I’d caught a group of traders smuggling wolfsbane through the market. My blood had boiled as I dragged one of them before my father, expecting swift justice. Instead, he’d lounged in his carved chair and waved me a dismissive hand. "Boys will be boys, Lucas," he’d said, as if I’d brought him a trivial complaint. "Let them have their fun. It keeps the pack... lively." I’d stood there, fists clenched in disbelief. "This is illegal, Father. It weakens us," I’d argued, but he’d only chuckled, his eyes drifting to the goblet of wine in his hand. "Go train, son. Leave the ruling to me." Dismissed, I’d stormed out truly disappointed. Most pack members poisoned themselves with wolfbane on little misunderstanding and my father never punished or tagged them as murderer. He always believed that the victim deserved it.
Warborn wasn’t always this way. The pack had a proud history, or so the elders told me. Founded centuries ago by my great-grandfather, it was a fortress of loyalty and strength, its warriors feared across the region. Now, it was a shadow of that legacy, crumbling under my father’s lax hand.
While I am against his rule, the pack’s whispers about me didn’t help. Some called me the illegitimate son, claiming my mother. a woman my father had loved before his true mate, wasn’t his rightful partner. Others called me cursed, blaming me for her death during my birth. The rumors followed me. Calling me all the hurtful names.