chapter 8

Claus’s POV

The office was dimly lit, smelling of the expensive oak and the metallic tang of the ritual I had performed only hours prior.

The door didn't just open; it was thrown back on its hinges. Paul stood there, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with a frantic energy.

"Claus," he gasped, his voice cracking. "It’s done. But it’s... it’s worse than we thought."

I didn’t move from my chair. I let the silence stretch, savoring the control I had over the room. "The ritual worked? Is Freya’s womb responding?"

"The ritual is the least of it," Paul said, stepping forward, his hands trembling as he gripped the edge of my desk. "Your father. The Head Alpha. He’s dead."

I felt a momentary flick of something—not grief, but a cold, clinical curiosity. I had given his blood to the witch, but I hadn't expected the tether to snap so violently. "Explain."

"A rogue invasion," Paul said, the words tumbling out in a rush. "Total chaos at the ancestral estate. Masked men, tactical precision. The perimeter was breached before the guards could even shift. But that isn't the headline, Claus. The headline is who was standing over the body."

I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing into slits. "Bane."

"Bane," Paul confirmed, a grim nod emphasizing the name. "He was there, in the room. Silas and the guards found him drenched in your father’s blood, sitting right there by the bed while the Alpha’s life drained out into the sheets. The weapon was still in the wound."

A slow heat began to spread through my chest.

This was better than I had planned. Much better. I had wanted Bane discredited, but to have him branded a regicide? To have him labeled a kinslayer in the eyes of the Royal Court? It was a gift from the Goddess herself or perhaps from the darker things I was now courting.

I stood up slowly, my shadow stretching long and jagged across the floorboards. I walked to the window, looking out over the city lights that I would soon rule without question.

"A rogue attack," I mused, my voice a silk-wrapped blade. "And my dear, 'principled' uncle just happened to be in the room. What a tragic coincidence. My father calls him home to answer for the crime of mate-theft—to demand the return of Zelda—and instead of penance, Bane delivers a death blow."

"Silas has him in custody," Paul added, though his voice lacked conviction.

"No," I snapped, turning back to him. "Bane is not a man who stays in a cage. If the attack was as sophisticated as you say, he’s already gone. He’s a tactical genius, Paul. He wouldn't sit and wait for a trial he knows he’ll lose."

"He’s already fled," Paul admitted, looking at the floor. "He broke out during the second wave of the invasion. He’s headed back to his territory. Back to Zelda."

I slammed my fist onto the mahogany desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot. "Of course he is. He’s going for his prize. He thinks that because he has the girl and a stolen mark, he can hide behind the 'High Alpha' bloodline."

I walked over to Paul, grabbing his collar and pulling him close until he could see the manic fire in my eyes. "He didn't just kill a man today, Paul. He killed the Head Alpha. He killed my father. He has declared war on the Brooks lineage, and he did it with the blood of our patriarch on his hands."

"What are your orders?" Paul whispered, his own wolf submissive to the dark aura I was radiating.

"Mobilize the specialized units," I commanded, my voice dropping to a low, lethal vibration. "I don't want a standard pack arrest. I want a hunt. Contact the Royal Court and the Council of Elders immediately. Tell them the truth or at least, the version of it that matters. Bane Blackwood, the illegitimate pretender, murdered the Alpha to clear his path to the throne."

I let go of him, smoothing his lapels with a terrifying gentleness. "Issue a 'Death or Recovery' warrant. If anyone helps him, they are complicit. If he resists, they are to terminate him. But Zelda..."

I paused, my mind flashing to the shimmer the doctor had seen in her womb. "Zelda is to be brought back to me untouched. She carries the only thing left of Brooks' legacy, even if it's been tainted by that bastard’s seed."

"And if Bane tries to fight?"

"He will fight," I said, a cruel smile twisting my lips. "That’s the beauty of it. The more he fights, the guiltier he looks. Every guard he kills to 'protect' her is another nail in his coffin. He’s a dead man walking, Paul. He just doesn't know it yet."

I walked to the corner of the room where the vial of my father’s frame sat on a pedestal. It was old now, the life gone from it, just like the man it was made for.

"Find him," I whispered, the words sounding like a curse. "Bring him back to face the repercussions of his 'unjust acts.' I want him to watch while I take back everything he stole. I want him to see Freya sit on the throne that Zelda was supposed to occupy. And then, I want to see the light go out of his blue eyes while he realizes he lost it all for a woman who will ultimately belong to me again."

Paul bowed low and scurried from the room.

I turned back to the window, the purple glow of the grey marsh ritual reflecting in the glass. My father was dead, my rival was a fugitive, and my heir was being woven by shadows and blood.

The throne was mine. All I had to do was step over the bodies Bane was so kindly piling up for me.

"Run, Uncle," I hissed at the darkness. "Run as far as you can. It only makes the scent of your fear easier to follow."