Chapter: 41
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The Pack lived in fear of the Rogue King, well aware of his lethal nature and merciless ways. Regardless of age or the severity of the offense, Malta was known to exact punishment with extreme prejudice upon those who disobeyed his orders or failed to fulfill their duties. It seemed almost certain that death awaited them all.
The Betas could sense their master's icy glare, demanding answers that he fully intended to extract from them. "Well?" The piercing green gaze of the Rogue King drilled into the remaining Werewolves, causing them to shrink in fear. None wanted to be the next subject of his wrath. "Speak!"
The King took a step forward, his imposing figure casting a threatening shadow over the smaller Werewolves. "Who else has failed in their assignment?" His voice was low and menacing, his eyes forcing them to look away. "Answer me!" The commanding voice of the Rogue King reverberated off the walls, shattering the silence. His presence weighed heavily upon them, instilling paralyzing fear.
"Does anyone else have anything to say regarding our recent visitors?" His words dripped with venomous malice.
Silence.
A snarl escaped the lips of the Rogue King. The Werewolves jumped, their bodies trembling in fear. Hearts pounded against their chests as they watched the Rogue King advance towards them, positioning himself in front of the group. Several Betas gasped as the King slammed his fist against the wall, causing the ground to tremble beneath their feet.
A loud crack echoed through the room as the structure groaned under the force. The wolves flinched, bracing themselves for the impending punishment. "I gave you one job, just one job, and yet you fools stood there, oblivious to their entry into his home... One Lycger alone cannot create such a powerful Seal, which means all three were present, and you imbeciles failed to report this to me until after they completed the Sealing spell, and now that the place is sealed, it's impossible to get you fools back in there!" The blow to their stomachs was crushing, leaving a few men whimpering in pain. However, most remained defiant as they met the cold gaze of the Rogue King.
"Useless, every single one of you... I wonder why I wasted so much time and effort cloning you lots in great spells and having you blend amidst his bodyguards if only you all would end up being wasteful!" Malta spat, pacing the length of the room. "So close, and now I have to devise alternative means to regain control over him," he muttered more to himself than to his subordinates. "You are all dismissed for now, but make sure to clean up these dead bodies on your way out!" He pointed to the lifeless forms scattered about the room. With his final command given, Malta spun on his heels and purposefully strode towards the door, disappearing from view.
Once inside the elevator heading to the fifth floor, Malta ran his hands through his hair, smoothing it and calming his demeanor. When the elevator doors dinged and he stepped out, he appeared completely different, even innocent, as if he were incapable of harming a fly. He strolled down the elegantly lit hallway until he reached a magnificent black door. Placing his key card against the sensor, he patiently waited for the door to open.
Inside the room, a man and a woman awaited him. The woman, dressed in a flowing red gown, sat casually on the other side of the room, delicately sipping her wine. The man stood near the windows, gazing out at the beautiful sunset. As Malta entered, the man turned and greeted him with a smile. Malta approached him, gently lifting him and placing him on his mahogany office table before planting a tender kiss on the man's flushed lips.
"Alright, gentlemen, it is time to delve into the deal of the day..." Floridia purred, her seductive smile aimed at the two lovers. She glanced back and forth between them, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I hope you have everything prepared?" She coyly directed her question to Malta's lover. "The spell we need to perform cannot be delayed. The Lycgers will not relent, and neither shall we."
Malta nodded, stealing one more kiss from his lover before setting him down. Both Malta and Floridia watched eagerly as the man reached into his bag, retrieving a glass jar with a Rogue-shaped cover. Inside the jar, a white liquid shimmered and glowed faintly, resembling water in its consistency.
Placing the jar on the table, the man produced a carved knife with a silver head. "If you manage to ensure that Dirk consumes even a small drop of this elixir, he will forget all about the Lycgers and will submit to only you. He shall obey your command, even if the command means that he kills the Lycgers. Remember, Dirk is not an Omega, so you must not underestimate his strength. The strength of a Recessive Pride is equal to that of a Lycan when they are provoked. But you still hold the upper hand since you have imprinted on him...
Therefore, find a way to administer this elixir to him, and all will proceed smoothly from there. Initially, he will lose all memories of the Lycgers as his mates, he will despise them, and this will result in him rejecting them once again. If he rejects them for the second time, their bonds will sever...
Once this is done, claim him as your mate and immediately end him by draining the blood from his body. Following this, your transformation will commence. But first, we will need a drop of your blood to complete the spell." He extended his hand, and Malta handed him his own hand.
He used the knife to incise sharply into Malta's palm and very gently pressed a few drops of his blood into the jar. The liquid bobbed and shimmered as if agitated by the sudden addition. The man promptly sealed the jar and handed it to Malta. "It is ready to be served."
Malta carefully accepted the jar and placed it inside a drawer next to the table, locking it with a protective spell.
Floridia stood up, grabbed her purse, and turned to meet Malta's gaze. "Make no mistakes this time, Malta. I'll be waiting for news." With those words, she sauntered out of the room.
"I should also make my way back," the other man remarked, calmly beginning to gather his belongings into his bag. "Be cautious; we cannot afford to miss this opportunity." He tenderly kissed Malta on the cheek, casting a reassuring smile. "Remember, you require his blood for the transformation. Remaining a Rogue indefinitely isn't an option. This path is my only means of achieving my desires. I've committed to this because once you ascend from being a Rogue and reclaim your father's throne, I will have fulfilled my end of the bargain. Consequently, you will eliminate Dirk for me... It's a mutually beneficial arrangement; you get what you want, and I get what I want... Nothing can prevent HIM from being mine alone." With that, the man left, closing the door behind him.
Malta slumped back into his chair and closed his eyes.
For so long, he had waited for this moment.
So long, indeed.
And now, finally, he would be free from this cage. This curse he had endured for many years.
But freedom always comes with a price, and Dirk's blood was that price.
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As Malta sat there, his mind wandered back to the night of his eighteenth birthday. It was a night that had forever changed his life and shattered the illusion of his purebred werewolf lineage. On that fateful night, he had discovered the truth about his origin.
He learned that he was not the product of a powerful werewolf union, but instead, he was born to an omega who was a rogue. His mother, a woman of strength and resilience, had caught the eye of the king, who had succumbed to the temptation of an illicit affair. The king's true mate, unable to bear him an heir, chose to accept the rogue son into the royal family as a means to secure the throne's succession.
However, life within the palace walls had been far from easy for Malta. The nobles and courtiers looked down upon him, treating him as an outsider and a reminder of the king's infidelity. He was subjected to constant scrutiny and whispers behind closed doors. The snide remarks and disdainful glances followed him wherever he went, a constant reminder of his tainted bloodline.
Despite the challenges, Malta had persevered. He had honed his skills, both as a warrior and a strategist, determined to prove that his worth extended far beyond his lineage. He had grown tired of the whispers and the judgment, longing for a chance to break free from the confines of his predetermined fate.
But amidst this darkness, a flicker of hope had emerged. Malta had encountered the witches. They revealed to him a tantalizing possibility—a chance to transform from a rogue to a true Alpha King. They spoke of the Recessive Lion Pride, a mythical Were that held the power to lift the curse of his rogue status and unlock his true potential as the Alpha King. It was a path that offered him the love and acceptance he had yearned for all his life.
For years, Malta had tirelessly searched for a Recessive Lion, but hope had seemed elusive. Yet, fortune had finally smiled upon him in the form of Floridia. She had entered his life, bringing with her promises and secrets. And now, her mysterious ally held the key to his ultimate transformation. Malta knew that he had to seize this opportunity, no matter the cost.
As his mind focused on the plan ahead, Malta's determination grew stronger. He couldn't let this chance slip through his fingers. The prospect of Dirk's demise, while unsettling, was necessary for his liberation. The weight of his desires—acceptance, love, and the throne—propelled him forward, driving him to do whatever it took to claim his rightful place.
With a resolute heart, Malta rose from his chair. The time for waiting and yearning was over. He would take destiny into his own hands and shape his future. Dirk's death would mark the beginning of his journey toward freedom and fulfillment. The Alpha King within him would rise, and the pack would finally recognize him as their true leader.