Chapter 15

RENZO'S POV

My fists clenched in anger and fury as I worked the buttons of my shirt. My back jerked as tension built in every bone in my body.

I'd always known there were some bad eggs among my people, especially among the members of the council, but I'd never wanted to know who they were.

I knew no one wanted me as their King, but what did they know? What? Did they really think the people they wanted on the throne were any better than me?

I'd never really cared about what people thought of me. I'd never cared enough to consider that they might develop the habit of sabotaging everything I did just to prove that I was never the King they wanted. The King who would protect them and everything they owned.

Rogues had been attacking even before I claimed the throne that was meant for my brothers—my half-brothers. But the attacks became worse after I became King, and I'd been going out of my way to put an end to them. Unfortunately, the people within my own circle had never made it easy for me.

Just when I was one step closer to putting an end to the rogues, some bad eggs decided to help them escape, bringing me right back to square one.

The urge to punch something grew stronger as I slid my dagger inside my shirt, close to the part of my body where my father had driven a dagger into me when I was five.

I was just a little boy, but he'd still decided to give me that as a birthday gift. To show me that if I wanted to take his throne one day, I needed to be as strong as he was.

So, he stabbed his five-year-old son multiple times in the gut.

I wasn't like my father. I never wanted to be like him. That was what I'd kept telling myself until it happened, until I forced my way onto the throne. And just like that, I realised I'd been lying to myself all along.

I was just like my father.

A strong scent of wood and grass filled the air, interrupting my solitude. It was a scent that had become strangely familiar to me over the past few weeks.

I let out a deep breath as the door flew open and Kyran, one of my most trusted men, walked into my room in the brothel. He stared at me for a while before closing the distance between us. Then he lowered his gaze to the floor and mumbled, "Your Majesty!"

"Yes, Kyran?" I asked, letting my hand slide away from the dagger.

People were beginning to wonder about my obsession with the weapon, but they'd never know that it reminded me of how much I hated my father. Nor would they ever know that I had never regretted what I'd done to my brothers.

"The car is ready. We're waiting for you, my King," he said, beaming with joy.

I was tempted to think he was happy because we were going home, but I could never believe that was the reason. Kyran loved blood as much as I did. He loved war and everything that had to do with killing. He had no family or partner waiting for him at home, so I still couldn't understand why he was so happy about returning.

"What about Alfonso?" I asked, shifting my gaze away from him.

"Royal Beta Alfonso is already outside, waiting for you, Your Majesty."

His reply was sharp and quick.

I nodded. "Good."

I turned to walk away but stopped when Kyran didn't so much as move out of my way.

"What?"

"What about the werewolf girl? The one carrying Your Majesty's mark? Are we really going to leave her behind?"

He bombarded me with questions, and I blinked in surprise.

No one had ever dared to question me before. Kyran certainly had some guts.

"Do not concern yourself with werewolves. They're not ours to worry about," I said through gritted teeth.

I shoved him slightly out of the way and headed for the exit.

"Even though she's the first person Your Majesty has ever marked? You've never found anyone worthy of your mark. Are you really going to leave her to die?" he yelled after me.

My fingers curled into tight fists.

I stormed toward him, grabbed him by the neck, and slammed him face-first against the wall. Pressing my hand against his throat, I snarled, "I would have to hurt you even more than I already have. Don't you ever tell me what I should do."

I barked the words into his ear, shoved him away, and took a step back, trying to control my breathing.

Every time someone tried to give me orders, I couldn't help thinking of my father. I remembered how he'd made me wish for death at such a young age. How he'd stabbed me repeatedly whenever I disobeyed him.

"Your Majesty," Kyran gasped, pressing a finger to his throat.

He didn't look sorry. If anything, he seemed to have even more to say.

"Do you really want to leave her behind?"

I sucked in a sharp breath and looked away from him.

I'd never met anyone as stubborn as Kyran. The man had guts, and I was beginning to see more of myself in him. If I didn't know all my brothers, I could have sworn he was my father's son.

"Lead the way," I ordered.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he let out a puff of air, nodded, and walked away.

I really hoped he wouldn't do anything else to make me hurt him. I already hated the fact that I'd had to hurt him twice in the past twelve hours.

When I stepped outside, my chest tightened at the sight of my men standing beside the cars that would take us home.

I couldn't shake the feeling that I was leaving something behind.

Something I shouldn't.

"Your Majesty!"

Alfonso offered me a small smile and nodded at the rest of our men, who climbed into the other cars. He then approached the last car and opened the door for me.

"Here, Your Majesty."

I nodded without saying anything and got inside. The door closed behind me, and Alfonso walked around to the driver's side before sliding behind the wheel.

"To the royal house?" he asked, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

I stared out the window at the brothel, as though the building held the answers to all the questions running through my mind.

"Turn the car around," I mumbled. "We're going to Alpha Ansel's palace."

Alfonso stared at me, shock clearly written across his face. However, he didn't question my order. Instead, he offered me a short smile and nodded.

"Of course, Your Majesty!"

The engine roared to life, and we sped off toward the packhouse.

I didn't want to leave my mind idle. I didn't want to think about what I was doing.

I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't be involving myself in such a mess, but my heart was telling me otherwise.

Just as Kyran had pointed out, I was a mateless King who had never found anyone worthy of my mark. Why my wolf had chosen to mark the werewolf girl remained a mystery to me.

Apart from the fact that she had the same calming scent as my mother, I still couldn't understand why I'd let myself get carried away and mark her without even realising what I was doing.

"We're here, Your Majesty!"

The car came to a stop, and I stared through the window at the familiar building of the packhouse.

"Take care of the guards. I need to find the werewolf girl."

I stepped out of the car and headed towards the building on the left, which I suspected housed the dungeon.

If she'd really been abducted on her way out the previous evening, there was nowhere else they would have taken her.

I knew that much.

I pulled out my dagger and flashed the silver blade I affectionately called Him a deadly smile before venturing deeper into the building.

The smell of dried blood and metal filled my nostrils, calming my soul.

It felt like home.

Nowhere felt more like home than the dungeon—a place where I'd spent almost my entire childhood.

I stabbed the first guard who approached me in the neck, driving the blade deeper until I nearly severed his head from his body.

I cursed under my breath and tossed his lifeless body onto the floor.

Warmth spread through my body as the sight before me brought me peace.

I loved the sight of blood. I loved its smell, and I loved knowing that the blood had been spilled by my own hands.

I'd been this way since I was twelve.

Killing had become my favourite exercise after years of training with my father. The first thing he'd taught me was how to kill.

How to take a life I'd never given.

I killed six more guards before reaching a room that smelled of rose candles.

Everything became clear when I kicked the door open and saw her on the floor, struggling to free herself from her shackles.

I wanted to own her.

To protect her.

"I like my assumptions to be right, but somehow, I wish I'd been wrong this time," I growled.

Seeing her tied up like a beast made something inside me boil with anger.

She turned to look at me.

Something like electricity jolted through my body as our eyes met. She offered me a faint smile, one I knew was as genuine as anything I'd ever seen.

"You're here," she breathed, making my heart hammer at the sound of her voice.

If I hadn't already known why I was doing this, I could have sworn I wanted to protect her because she wanted me to.

But no.

I wanted to protect her because I wanted to own her.