"You lost to that wolfless disgrace?" I snapped at her, my grip on her face tightening. Disgust rippled through me at her pathetic pleading and excuses. New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on novel fire.net
"I tried—my best—I really did but the Alpha—" She stuttered.
But I only gripped harder, leaving her unable to form words. "You failed," I growled, squeezing harder and harder until I could hear her jawbone begin to crack. "That is all you need to get into your thick skull. You failed me. You failed us. Derailed our plans. The cause. You inefficient cunt." Her dark skin began to turn a deep shade of blue, clean air running out in her lungs.
To think, I thought she was enthralling. What a bloody waste.
As if she could read my mind, her horror-filled eyes welled with tears. "Please—" she managed to croak.
"The engagement is over." I hurled her away by her jaw, feeling it dislocate and splinter just as I let go. She hit the wall with a sickening thud. "Keep the ring. Sell it and disappear."
I left her there—a crumpled mess, blood leaking from her nose, her jaw at an odd angle.
Too bad. I didn’t usually hurt beautiful women.
I walked to the window of my penthouse, overlooking the city. Lit a cigarette. Took a deep drag.
He answered on the second ring.
"She failed, Father," I said, allowing myself a smile. My reflection mimicked it in the darkened glass.
A pause. Then: "And?"
"The mechanic got in."
Silence on the other end.
"I see," he said finally. His cold voice was controlled. "We’ll discuss this in person. After dinner."
I took another drag, watching the city lights blur through the smoke.
So Vladimir now has a wolfless beta.
The sun had risen high in the sky by the time my new beta had been fully oriented on his duties as my second in command. Curiously, he did not write anything down. No little notepad that he would be furiously scribbling on.
But his dark eyes remained alert, like a constantly assessing scanner. He rarely blinked, and judging by the shadows clinging beneath them, I hypothesized that he rarely slept as well.
He was intriguingly odd. My gaze narrowed on his chest.
"Since that is out of the way—about that device."
He blinked for the first time in almost two minutes, glancing down.
I leaned back in my seat, scrutinizing him. Gauging. "Enlighten me."
"My wolf’s name is AKELA, standing for Advanced Kinetic Enhancement Locomotion Assembly."
I raised a quizzical brow. "What powers it?"
"A shard of moonstone embedded as the main power source, and my body as well. Heat energy, kinetic energy—all converts into mechanical energy through the interface."
I turned this information over in my mind. Impressive. Efficient. But also—vulnerable. If he was injured, the construct would weaken.
"Was it an independent project?"
"Yes. My blueprints. My design. My assembly. My resources." He listed each point with quiet precision. "It took eight years."
Most wolves spent eight years honing their shift, learning to control their instincts. He’d spent it building what he couldn’t have naturally.
"Akela," I repeated, testing the name. It was unusual. Not a typical designation for a mechanical construct. "Why that name?"
Something flickered in his expression. "It’s the name of an Alpha in a story. From the Terra realm."
My brow lifted. "The Jungle Book?"
For the first time since I’d met him, Dmitri showed genuine emotion.
His dark eyes widened fractionally, and he straightened slightly in his chair. "You know it?"
"I’ve read extensively." I waved a hand dismissively, though I was intrigued by his reaction. "Terra literature included. Kipling’s work is... adequate."
He stared at me for a moment longer, as if recalibrating his assessment of me entirely.
"Akela was the leader of the wolf pack," he said quietly. "The one who allowed Mowgli to stay. He was strong, but also strategic. Protective." A pause. "I thought it fitting."
I studied him. There was more to that choice than simple admiration for a fictional character. But I didn’t press.
"What drove you to build it?" I asked instead. "Eight years is a long time to dedicate to a single project."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "In a world where wolflessness is a disability and omegas are seen as liabilities, I had to do something after I didn’t shift at eighteen."
The words were clinical. Detached. But I heard the weight beneath them.
He’d been deemed worthless. And rather than accept that verdict, he’d spent nearly a decade proving it wrong.
"Practical," I said simply. "And effective."
"Thank you, High Alpha."
Silence settled between us, not uncomfortable, but weighted and assessing.
Then I shifted topics.
"You aided my marked hybrid during the trial."
His face smoothed over instantly, every trace of emotion vanishing. A deliberate mask.
"I did what was necessary," he said evenly.
"Explain your reasoning."
"Her being a hybrid has no bearing on the way I will treat her," Dmitri said, his tone matter-of-fact. "I don’t fall prey to such ignorant prejudices. And if she can succeed—if she can ascend through all five phases—she can fix the Veil." He paused. "That will ensure Lunar Flux no longer seeps into the Terra realm. It will stabilize both realms. Ensure there are more shifters in the next cycles."
I leaned forward slightly. "You believe she can?"
"I believe she must."
The distinction was deliberate. It was confidence. Instead, it was a necessity.
"What do you know of her?" I asked, watching his every micro-expression.
He didn’t hesitate. "Lilith Brooks. Twenty-two years old. Hybrid—wolf and human. Father is Kustav Volkov. She was to be your betrothed. She’s the sixth marked hybrid to begin training. Current phase: Crescent. She must participate in the Lunar Duel in three weeks."
"She is still to be my betrothed," I corrected.
He nodded, "Of course, High Alpha."
Perfect recall. Exactly what I’d expect from someone who didn’t need to write things down.
"And what do you think of her?"
He didn’t look confused by the question. Instead, his gaze took on a strange quality—distant, but piercing.
"She is wild," he said slowly, "in the way scared but brave things are. She is chaos. Anarchy given form."
"She is the end clad within a soul."
His voice had changed. Not in tone, but in texture. Like he was speaking from somewhere else.
His eyes were haunted now. Fixed on something beyond this room.
His navy eyes flickered to something pale.
And just like that, the moment shattered.