2 The Dominator

The Third Person's POV

A gentle breeze-filled evening.

A sleek black luxury Lincoln glided through the tranquil tree-lined paths of Covert Garden, heading towards a private edifice at the road's terminus. The moment the car came to a halt, a gloved hand of a valet, stationed beforehand at the building's entrance, extended to open the car door for the guest. Meanwhile, another attendant withdrew a black card from his pocket, using it to unlock the gates that were rarely made accessible to the public. These were trained professionals, performing their tasks in absolute silence. After all, their boss had given a specific directive. The guest tonight held an aversion to clamorous surroundings. Silence and swift motions were imperative.

In the next second, a man alighted from the vehicle.

His tailor-made suit draped elegantly over his powerful, sinewy frame. With a prominently carved nose and exquisitely defined features, he appeared akin to a high-priced sculpture borrowed from the Renaissance era— both opulent and emanating an aura of detachment. The service personnel kept their gazes averted, refraining from direct eye contact with this guest. Although their curiosity about him was profound, the chill that radiated from him sent shivers cascading down their spines. And they certainly hadn't forgotten their boss's final injunction. "Avoid locking eyes with this guest, unless you desire expulsion from this city."

In this city, his name invariably elicited a mixture of reverence and trepidation, all while hungering for his favor. He was Harrison, and at times, he was addressed as The Dominator. In the world of werewolves, he was the true Dominator, with his wrath capable of unleashing seismic reverberations throughout all the packs.

"Never stand against The Dominator." This was the first rule every adult werewolf learned.

It was a cardinal rule and a testament to Harrison's standing.

...

This mansion stood ensconced within the heart of Covert Garden, the most opulent and secluded precinct. At that moment, a small-scale gathering was in progress. Though the guest list was succinct, these individuals commanded over ninety percent of the werewolf world's wealth and authority. Among them, Harrison Morris constituted no less than fifty percent.

"Harrison! We've been waiting for your arrival!"

Peter Rufus, glass in hand, shouted as Harrison strode in. Peter was the host. He was Harrison's closest friend, their fellowship tracing back to their childhood. Furthermore, he was the sole individual who dared to converse with Harrison using such an informal tone.

Today marked Peter's twenty-fifth birthday, coinciding with his bachelor party prior to his impending wedding.

"Wishing you a happy birthday, Peter, and congratulations on your upcoming nuptials."

Harrison greeted him as he entered.

Harrison signaled to the B**e beside him, indicating to present the gift. Peter accepted the gift and, upon unwrapping it, grinned, "I was right on the money. It's always a Ferrari or a mansion whenever you give a gift. You're generous, but your taste is unwavering."

"Who would've thought Peter would be the first one among us to get hitched? I wonder how many ladies are shedding tears over that news," a man engrossed in a game of Texas Hold'em commented with a chuckle.

"Have you met your bride, Peter?" another man inquired.

Peter's marriage was one of business marriage. If he wanted to inherit his father's alpha status, he had to marry. In high society, these types of marriages were commonplace, and sometimes, grooms didn't even meet their brides until the wedding night.

"Once," Peter replied, taking a sip of his drink, as if discussing something inconsequential.

"I hope she's not a fiery little spitfire; otherwise, your wedding night might involve being kicked off the bed," another man added, eliciting a round of laughter from the group.

"She doesn't seem like the fiery type," Peter reflected, rubbing his chin. "She comes across as gentle. Anyway, it's a duty, and I've fulfilled it. Now it's your turn."

Peter deftly diverted the conversation to the others. Another man chuckled, "Our weddings aren't exactly headline news. But if Harrison were to announce his marriage, I bet the whole city would go into a frenzy. It'd be a scene like no other."

All eyes shifted to Harrison.

Beyond power, wealth, and status, another secret about Harrison was that he didn't have a mate. He defied tradition, which dictated that an alpha must marry to secure his status. So he's the only single alpha at the moment. Once he became an alpha, countless women sought his attention. He had no shortage of girlfriends or companions if he so wished, but over the years, no woman had stood by his side, and he hadn't declared a mate.

"I don't need a woman," Harrison casually remarked, downing the contents of his glass.

"Cheers, to my birthday and the last days of my bachelorhood," Peter redirected the conversation once more. Within this mansion, he was only privy to Harrison's past romantic story, and why he remained mateless until now. It was a touchy subject, and he knew Harrison didn't want anyone to bring it up.

The atmosphere regained its liveliness. Nobody broached the topic of Harrison's mate.

Harrison surveyed the gambling game on the table, casually picking up a few high-value chips in front of him. Just as he was about to toss them in, a strong waft of perfume suddenly enveloped him.

A delicately beautiful young woman, champagne glass in hand, swayed her hips, her alluring gown barely containing her generous curves.

She subtly or not-so-subtly rubbed against Harrison as she moved.

The thick perfume hung in the air, causing Harrison to crease his brow.

Across from him, Peter observed the scene and furrowed his brows.

Before Peter could summon someone to remove the woman, Harrison swiftly reached out, snagging her by the waist, and pulled her into his embrace.

"Ah!" The woman quickly switched to a shy expression. "Be gentle, Mr. Morris."

"You like a tender way?" Harrison's fingers caressed the woman's hair.

"What a pity." Harrison's playful expression vanished as he received the woman's bashful confirmation. "I'd rather play it rough."

Harrison's grip loosened, and he pushed the woman to the side.

"Rick!"

"What? Ouch! Mr. Morris! Mr. Morris!"

A Beta dressed in black stepped forward, pulling the fallen woman off the ground. Paying no mind to her revealing dress, he yanked her outside.

"Let go of me, help!"

The woman finally grasped the gravity of the situation, and her pleas for help shifted targets.

"Mr. Levis! Save me!"

However, her pleas fell on deaf ears. Soon, her desperate cries disappeared within the mansion.

The man she called Mr. Levis, upon learning that the woman he had brought had provoked Harrison, promptly set down his drink and nervously bowed before Harrison.

"You are..." Harrison looked at the man with his head down, momentarily unable to recall his name.

"Levis, just call me Levis. Mr. Morris."

"Mr. Levis," Harrison leaned forward, "what made you think I'd be attracted to someone like that woman?"

"I... Mr. Morris, I never thought that way."

Seeing Levis nearly on the verge of kneeling before him, Harrison felt that saying even one more word would be wasteful.

So, he redirected his gaze and looked at Peter.

"Ever since your brother took over Covert Garden's management, things have taken a turn for the worse."

"Yeah." Peter nodded, "He knew I was hosting an event here today. But just to annoy me, that guy rented out a hall in Covert Garden for a businessman's dinner party! And it's a 'select a woman' party! Damn it! I should've persuaded my grandfather more. Handing Covert Garden over to him will lead to its ruin sooner or later!"

"A 'select a woman' party?"

Harrison's gaze darkened. He recalled that faint hint of grassy scent that drifted into the car as he had entered the Covert Garden.

"Yeah, remember that Kelowna guy? I heard he killed his lover while drunk back when he was underage and he couldn't find a mate after he came of age. Many old money families won't even let him near their daughters," Peter scoffed, his face showing a mix of disdain and amusement.

Another guy chimed in, "But Kelowna's been making a killing smuggling arms recently and managed to attract some cash-strapped small packs, like the Flashlights Pack, and even The Silver Moon Pack. Oh, and Kayla Reeves, do you remember her?"

Harrison's grip on the glass paused mid-air. No one noticed the subtle shift in his eyes.

Peter cast a surprised glance at Harrison, and the other man continued, "Yeah, Kayla! I remember she used to attend a fancy school."

"Why bring her up?" Harrison's tone was cold.

Peter's concern deepened in his eyes.

"She's here today too, at Kelowna's party."

"Oh?" Another guy joined in, curiosity evident. "Is she in a tight spot financially?"

Harrison, hidden within the shadows, exuded a sense of foreboding like a demon on the prowl.

"Seems that way. Her old man's on the verge of bankruptcy. If he goes under, his pack will be swallowed up, and he'll become the first alpha to lose power. That's why he's scrambling to find someone to team up with."

More people joined the conversation.

"But I never heard of this Kayla Reeves before."

"She went abroad a few years ago. I have no idea why she's back."

"So her old man's planning to pawn her off?"

"I hope she doesn't catch Kelowna's eye. That guy can turn ugly when he's had a few too many. I don't want any bloodshed in Covert Garden."

The topic shifted, and everyone prepared to continue drinking, while an agitated Harrison forcefully placed his glass on the table.

"Excuse me a moment," Harrison abruptly left.

Others exchanged puzzled glances, but Peter's headache deepened.

Kayla had returned. This city was in for quite a stir soon.

Because she was Harrison's Achilles' heel.