The Dream and the Dead

Chapter 6:

Theo – POV

I lie on my bed, begging sleep to take me. The last few months have been hell, and my head feels ready to split open. Finally, exhaustion wins. I drift into dreams.

And find myself standing in a white bedroom.

The room is massive but stark—just a wall-mounted TV, a large bed centered between two nightstands, and mirrored built-in closets. Even the curtains are snow white.

Then I hear it.

Moans.

I turn toward the bed—and freeze. Two women are tangled in the sheets. A redhead lies between the legs of a blonde, who’s arched back against the pillows. Her grey eyes are half-lidded, her full, cherry lips parting in soft gasps of pleasure.

She’s breathtaking.

My cock twitches at the sight, heat coiling low in my gut. I take a step closer. I want to be the redhead. Hell, I want to take them both. But her—the blonde—I need her.

Her small breasts rise with each breath, her nipples hard beneath the redhead’s hands. My own hand slides down, stroking my erection slowly as I watch.

She moans louder, trembling.

“Come for me, baby,” the redhead whispers.

And then it happens.

The blonde’s eyes snap open—locking onto mine.

My breath catches. My hand freezes.

She sees me.

“Theo… yes… I’m coming!” she cries out.

I jolt awake, heart hammering.

“What the actual fuck?”

The dream felt real. Too real. I press my palm to my chest, trying to steady my breath, my body still thrumming with arousal and confusion.

Before I can think, there’s a knock at the door.

I rake a hand through my hair. “Come in.”

Parker steps inside. Tall, fit, maybe twenty-four. Short blond hair, tanned skin, always composed—but not today. His brown eyes are stormy. He bows stiffly.

“My king… you need to come to the kitchen. We have a problem.”

My brows knit. He never uses titles in private.

“Parker,” I say firmly. “You’re my beta, yeah—but before that, my best friend. What the hell happened?”

He doesn’t meet my eyes. His voice is a whisper.

“Theo… someone broke in. He killed an omega. In our kitchen. While we slept.”

He finally looks up—eyes glassy with shame.

“I couldn’t protect you. Not even in your own home.”

A chill shoots down my spine. My blood turns to ice.

Then rage sets in.

I shove past him. “No time for guilt. Move. We’re fixing this now—before rumors start about how weak we are.”

I charge down to the first floor. The staff are already gathering near the dining room, faces pale, eyes wide. They bow as I pass, but fear lingers.

Good. Fear sharpens loyalty.

I push into the kitchen. Two guards flank the entrance, stiff and pale. Inside, it’s chaos.

To the left, near the walk-in fridges, two cooks sob in each other’s arms. To the right, three of my top detectives are arguing in hushed tones. The air reeks of blood and panic.

Then I see her.

A young girl—barely out of childhood—lies naked on the center counter. Wrists and ankles bound. Skin pale, lifeless.

And carved into her stomach, from hip to chest, one word:

WHORE.

My stomach lurches.

I’ve seen death. I’ve killed in battle. But this… this is evil.

My doctor stands beside the girl, quietly taking samples. His face is ashen.

One of the detectives steps forward. “My king… we’ve got nothing. No scent, no tracks. We tried everything.”

His jaw clenches. “We need help.”

I force my voice steady. “What’s her name?”

One of the cooks answers without looking up. “Milena, my king.”

I nod once. “Return her to her family. Give her a proper burial. Full compensation. Grief counseling. I want it done today.”

“Yes, my king.”

I turn to my detectives. “You three, with me.”

Then, to the staff: “You’ll prep meals in the summer kitchen. Guards will transfer food to the dining area. This kitchen stays closed until it’s been cleansed.”

No hesitation. No mercy.

Someone brought death into my home.

And they’re going to bleed for it.