A gift for the Cursed Alpha

Logan's POV

“Have you suddenly gone slow, elder Edgin?”

I roared, and the servants trembled slightly. I heard their wolves whimper slightly within them, cowards and fools! The elders standing before me claimed to be braver and more daring. None of them moved, and they all had their eyes fixed calmly on me.

“No, Alpha Logan.” Elder Edgin finally replied, and there's no hint of respect whatsoever in his voice as he speaks. “What I offered was a logical suggestion. Our men are tired, constantly falling under the slowly advancing enemy. Our healers on the battlefield are exhausted. At this point, it would be logical for us to sound a retreat.”

There it is again, that word. I hate that word!

“We don't retreat!” I snap with my fist, coming down hard on the arm of the throne. “Ash Claw Pack never retreats!”

“There will be none left to fight your wars when the men are all killed, Alpha Logan.” Elder Edgin replies calmly.

'Let me have at him!' My wolf, Lupin, growls within my head. 'Let me have a go at the old man and knock some respect into him!'

I am tempted to do that, just what Lupin suggests, but I carefully calm the angry beast, perhaps the most brutal part of me, and I return my attention to the men standing before me.

“I want the latest report on the front lines brought to me as soon as possible,” I growl. “I need that report and I need it yesterday!” I said, emphasising the urgency.

“Beta Gareth with bring it, Alpha Logan.” Elder Edgin replied again.

“Tell me, elder Edgin..” I frowned. “Do you speak for the whole council of cloven feet now, or are the rest too cowardly to speak before me?”

“I.. I'm not sure I quite follow.” Elder Edgin frowned in confusion.

“You think I don't know what you all whisper  behind closed those in your meetings?!” I roared again. “You think I don't know what you call me? You call me the mad Alpha, and you wish my death, you pray for it too.”

I saw them nervously exchange looks. I could smell their mounting fear. They know what I say is true, and they fear what I might choose to do to them. I know how much they hate me, I knew how much everyone at the pack house wished for my passing, something I sometimes wished for myself too, but never got my wish granted.

“My Alpha..” Elder Edgin started. “I really don't..”

“Save your breath, Elder Edgin.” I hissed.

 “I've seen your type come and go. Elder after elder has filled those chairs in the council. All of your predecessors thought they would be the ones to outlive me. They thought they would be the ones to finally see the end of the fire lineage, and as I speak to you now, all of them are dead. Do you think you'll be the one to outlive me, Elder Edgin?”

The elder shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other while the other six had their heads bowed, no longer able to look me in the face.

“No, Alpha Logan,” Elder Edgin replied. “I do not have such thoughts.”

Before I could respond to his words, however, a servant slowly approached the throne with a goblet of warm milk. They knew warm milk worked almost like magic, seemingly calming me whenever I was stressed out and agitated, like I was at the moment.

I reached out and took the goblet from the boy, and out of his carelessness, his hand brushed mine, and he yelped in pain. The boy jumped back in fear and massaged a hand that was already searing hot at the point where it came in contact with mine.

“Foolish boy!” I snapped as I drank my milk, watching him nurse his burnt hand. “Who the hell took this one in?!”

“Pardon me, my Alpha!” My butler, Jon, immediately rushed forward and dropped to a knee. “The boy is my replacement, Alpha. He's still learning the ropes, too.”

“Teach him well, then.” I snarled. “Or you'll be called out of retirement one day to come clear out his ashes!”

“I'll do my best, Alpha.” Jon bowed and quickly hurried off with the scared and hurting boy.

Having wet my tongue and cooled my stomach with the warm milk, I turn towards the seven elders again.

“Get out of my sight!” I order curtly.

The elders immediately bowed and turned from the throne. I watched them make their retreat, with one of them accidentally knocking down a goblet on the far end of the center table, but a palace guard immediately moved in and saved the goblet from clanging on the floor, and at that moment, everyone held their breath as all eyes turned towards me. This is the usual air around the pack house. Everyone lives in constant fear. As they should.

I abruptly stood from my chair and left the throne room with my robes swishing around me as I retreated into my chamber.

Once I was alone, I carefully took off the robes, leaving only my underpants on and my shirt. My chest constricted in pain, the same pain I had been carrying for over a century. I was a broken and lonely soul, and as much as no one saw it, I was constantly hurting.

I faced the mirror and slowly tore off my hand gloves and stared at my hands. I slowly rubbed them together and could feel the warmth within them.

My hands were completely scarred and badly burned, which was why I always moved about with those gloves, but the scars were not the reason why my heart would tighten in pain anytime I stared at my hands.

Even as I stood there staring at my hands and the scars covering them, I could hear her shrill wail as she burned. I could hear her as clearly as I had heard her those years ago, the day I burnt my own mate.