Kael’s POV
Standing in the center of the grand council hall, he was a figure carved from sheer dominance. Dressed in a flawlessly tailored dark suit, with tousled dark brown hair and eyes the color of burnt chestnut, his gaze radiated a chilling intensity.
Tall, broad-shouldered, and imposing, the man exuded an aura that was nothing short of formidable. He looked less like a man and more like a force of nature—unyielding, immovable, a mountain that dared anyone to challenge its place.
Gerald Hawthorne.
Alpha of the Hollowcrest Pack, one of the six most powerful werewolf packs in existence—and a name that carried weight, fear, and reverence alike. He was one of the oldest Alphas still actively ruling, a contemporary of my father.
There were so many powerful Alphas in the werewolf world, but only a few top-tier Alphas existed, the number countable on fingers. And I was one of them. Each top-tier Alpha possessed a secret power, something rare and unnatural that set us apart from the rest.
Our alpha aura was so strong that we could make other Alphas submit to us. But as per council rule, top-tier Alphas could only use their Alpha aura on their own pack members, not on anyone from other packs unless they are fighting with another top-tier Alpha. Breaking the rules had serious punishment.
Most Alphas of Gerald’s generation had already passed their titles on to their sons. But not Gerald. His son was still a minor.
Stories whispered that Gerald and his pureblood mate, Silvia, had once lost their firstborn—a child no older than a few months, taken by enemies. The loss had shattered Silvia. She spent years in denial, unable to accept the child was gone, clinging to the hope that one day, somehow, they would find it.
After years, when she finally gave up waiting and came to terms with reality, they had a second child—their son, Arwan.
Gerald was also one of the founding members of this council but never took charge of it himself as he preferred to prioretise and lead his own pack. But even then, he held authority here, as he was the one who contributed to creating the council’s rules, which these bastard council members were twisting as they pleased.
And Gerald had the authority to inspect the council and even question and confront them for their misdeeds.
Though my encounters with him had been few, I knew well that Gerald Mevaric was a man of principle. The first time I saw him was when my father, Alpha Zain, took me to attend a council meeting. I was just seven years old. Even though our pack and the Hollowcrest Pack were not neighboring and rarely interacted beyond formalities, I had noticed then that my father and Gerald shared a mutual respect.
Our only real connection with their pack had been through business dealings, nothing more.
"Alpha Gerald," Jeffery rose from his seat and hurried forward, offering a smile that barely concealed his unease. "Please, have a seat."
It was plain as day—this smug bastard Jeffery was trembling at the mere sight of him. Still, he masked his fear behind that polished, oily grin of his.
Gerald didn’t bother with pleasantries. His eyes, sharp and cold, drifted toward the council chair Jeffery had just vacated.
"That chair does seem like a fine place to sit," Gerald remarked, his tone dry, his words savage. "But it seems your ass doesn’t quite know how to handle it. Maybe I should consider claiming it for myself."
Damn!
Jason, seated beside me, turned with raised brows. He had never met Gerald before, and judging by his reaction, he hadn’t expected anyone to walk in and crush Jeffery’s inflated ego so effortlessly.
Jeffery looked as if he’d swallowed a stone, clearly rattled by the jab. That bastard would never give up the council seat—the only thing that made his powerless ass feel important.
Gerald’s gaze shifted back to him. "Hmm?" he prompted, calm yet unmistakably threatening.
Jeffery let out a brittle chuckle and gestured to the row of seats along the right, where Kaizan had earlier taken his place.
"You jest, Alpha Gerald. Please, have a seat," he said, voice shaky despite his attempt to sound composed.
Gerald looked at that row and then towards Kaizan, where that bastard offered greeting nod to Gerald.
But then Gerald turned and came straight to the left side row of the chair—our side. He made it clear who he was going to side with. Judging by the way he had just threatened Jeffery, it was clear he knew exactly what was going on here.
He came to a halt before me, standing tall, his gaze locking directly with mine. "Alpha Kael, it’s been a long time."
I offered him a respectful nod. "Good to see you after so long, Alpha Gerald."
He returned a subtle nod before shifting his gaze to Jason as I gestured toward him. "Jason, one of my four sworn mate-brothers."
After they exchanged gazes, Gerald looked back at me. "I believe you have made your stance clear enough to the council."
"I have," I replied evenly.
His gaze drifted toward Jeffery, his voice sharp. "Any more questions for him?"
Jeffery kept that same fake-ass smile plastered on his face. "Not really, Alpha Gerald, but..." he looked at me and said, "Unless they mark her, she can be claimed by anyone. And that’s exactly as per the rules set by this council."
Fucking bastard. He was hiding behind the very rules now. And Gerald could only agree to it as he was the one to make this rule.
That particular rule was created to protect she-wolves. It was meant to ensure they found a proper mate, to prevent them from being passed around like toys between Alphas, unmarked, and used however someone pleased.
Because once a she-wolf was marked, she belonged solely to that Alpha. No one could force him to share her—unless, of course, the Alpha was an absolute asshole willing to trade her for his own gain. But he wouldn’t do it as it was painful to share their marked mate.
At the same time, marking a she-wolf strongly signified that the Alpha loved her and he would never share her. If he had the intention of sharing, he wouldn’t mark her in the first place.
Only a handful of Alphas ever truly marked their mates and never shared them. My father was one of them. So was Gerald. They loved their women, and as top-tier Alphas, they were intensely territorial and fiercely possessive.
Just like me. Even if I didn’t love her. Even if I cursed her or hurt her—I would never share her with anyone. Except my brothers.
"What do you have to say about what Jeffery just said?" Gerald asked, his gaze locked with mine—steady, probing, as if attempting to read beyond my words, to see through to the core of who I was. It wasn’t merely a question. It was a silent test. A weighing of my intent, my nature.
I held his stare without flinching.
"She will be marked," I stated with cold certainty, then turned my gaze toward Jeffery, my gaze threatening, "....very soon."
Jeffery offered a thin, insincere smile. "Of course. I only hope that soon doesn’t turn out to be too late."
The bastard was still mocking me. Still testing limits he didn’t understand.
But his days were numbered. And I would be the one to end them.