Eighteen

Kyren's POV

One moment I was in school, and the next I was at home. That's what it's like when your father owns your school.

"The Grandmaster requests your presence, Young Master," a maid called out the moment I set foot in the living room.

"Just call me Kyren, as everyone else does here. Is that too difficult for you?"

"I'm sorry, sir... I mean, Kyren, the Grandmaster requests your presence, Young... Kyren," she stuttered. Mylin was one of the newly recruited. Whoever owned that girl previously had tampered with something in her head. She was too respectful, and I hated it. It wasn't as if I was older than she was.

"You never learn. Just get off my face." I instructed, and she went right at it but stopped mid-walk. "Young... sorry, Kyren, don't you want to know where he is?"

"In the basement. I know that already, so off you go."

"You need to take it easy on that girl, you know. She's just doing her duty. Forget about how she addresses you and focus on the message she's trying to pass across to you." The familiar yet soothing voice hits me. Elder Mother Margaret. She had replaced my mother since she died. I literally grew up in her hands. As the oldest maid in the house, she played the role of my mother.

I grew up under her love and care. "Mylin never learns, Elder Mother. You need to reset her brain to factory settings." We both laughed, and I kissed her hand.

"Welcome, my son. Now run along; your father is waiting for you."

"Do you by any chance know why Dad wants me home?" I asked, trying to be aware of whatever this was all about.

"You should be prepared, son; don't show weakness, just as you have been taught. Your father awaits your arrival." Those were her answers, with that, I already know why Dad called me. Elder Mother never speaks straight, but she speaks in a way that you'll understand, except if you pretend not to, or really do not care to.

I walked straight into the basement. The only source of light in there was a tiny lamp hung up. I could smell Father's presence, even though I didn't see him.

"Grandmaster," I bowed.

"Who are you?" His voice sounded deep, slicing through the place.

"Kyren Voss, the future Alpha King of Northmont Pack, the young face of the Royal Alpha Bloodline."

"Good. And what are your duties?"

"To uphold the family name, rule the council of Alphas and control the affairs of Northmont High-the family business-and treat it as important." I could hear him chuckle from where I stood even when I knew he wasn't anywhere close to me. I felt a kind of relief because it seemed like my answers were pleasing.

"And to the secret council?" "Obey them and carry out all obligations as expected, but don't be too weak to recognize traitors if any show up."

"And what do you do to traitors when you fish them out?"

"End their lives before they end mine."

"Good!" The light comes on all of a sudden, revealing my father's face, sitting on his throne as usual. About four chains were hung up; dry blood stained three of them except one, which had fresh blood dripping from it. I don't need anyone to tell me that someone had just dropped dead from that chain.

Boxes of ammunition littered the floor, all filled to the brim. The smell of wolfsbane filled the room. The light of the basement had never been turned on in my presence. I didn't even know it was lit up until now. The tiny lamp had always been the only source of light I knew of.

"Dad." I bowed again. He stood up, moved closer to me, and circled me for a few seconds, then he bent a little, just enough for him to take a closer look into my eyeballs. I faced him head-on, with no form of trembling or fear, my heart hardened as rock. He chuckled and then replaced the tobacco stick he had earlier removed from his mouth.

"You've learned. You see, my boy, twice my seat has been left empty in the school, and I know you must have been worried sick about that. Your father is not dying; in fact, there's no single form of sickness in my system." He spoke as if he knew exactly what was on my mind.

I sighed in relief. The best news I've heard today. He was right. I had been worried sick about it because I'm far too young to take over. "I had to fish out some traitors in the secret council who had been giving out information to our enemies." He continued.

"My first absence in school was because of an attack from people who wanted me off the seat of the King of Alphas, and that attack was successful because of these fools." More lights came up to reveal two people tied to a chair each. Their mouths were covered with tape, and they looked like they had been beaten and battered.

I recognized them from the Secret Council, though I couldn't remember their names. I have seen them several times with Father and other members of the Council whenever they come to the house for meetings or parties.

"And my second absence?" Father continued. "It was because I had to track down these fools myself. Now, dear son, what do you suggest we do to these fools?" Father popped the exact question I expected him to ask. I knew my answer already, so I replied head-on without trembling.

"End their lives before they end ours!"

Dad picked up a gun beside him and threw it to me. I caught it at once. I didn't need to be told what to do. I was born for this. Likewise, I had been training for this day all my young life. The day I would carry out my first kill. I knew the gun had been loaded with whatever it was that could kill the traitors.

The next thing to do was to think about the reason I needed to kill them, as I had been taught. I moved closer to them, searching their eyes for what I couldn't explain. Maybe I expected them to plead or something. Dad didn't move in his chair; he wasn't watching me directly, but I could tell he was doing that from the corner of his eye.

Then I spoke to myself in my head. "These men deserved death because they wanted to kill my father. If their plan had pushed through, I would have been fatherless by now and forced to take up a responsibility I wasn't ready for. Possibly they planned to end my life too after ending my father's. They deserve death." I concluded.

By the time I looked into their eyes one more time, I had seen the fear in them. They had earlier thought I didn't have the balls to kill, but when they saw how my eyeballs changed from the words of conviction I gave myself, they became truly afraid. Yes, they should. This is how traitors' eyes should look. They should beg for their lives through their eyes.

And then, without a single regret, I pulled the trigger, one for each one, right through their heads. My face was covered in blood, and I watched without any remorse as blood sprouted from their exploded head and brains littered the whole place.

Dad's eyes lit up in excitement. I had done it. My first kill at eighteen. "Happy birthday, son!" Right after those words, I remembered Dad didn't wish me a happy birthday when I turned eighteen, and then it clicked that he had been waiting for the day I'd carry out my first kill. That's what adulthood meant to him.

"We should celebrate." He said. I walked to the corner of the basement where a small sink was. I opened the tap and cleaned the blood off my hands and face. Two guards came in as if they had been instructed earlier and started cleaning up the mess in the basement. Dad poured me a drink for the first time, and we drank. I had my first kill and also tasted alcohol for the first time.