LOVING THE VICIOUS ALPHA I SWORE TO DESTROY

The light flickered on and off. The sign. He crouched low, his fingers tracing lines on the wall as he made his way towards the back entrance. He stopped and then listened. The only sound that came to him was the sound of the wind hitting the leaves of the pine trees that formed a dense thicket around the desolate building. He felt his way towards the back until his hands closed around the metal door handle. It was open. His second-in-command had checked out the building a good hour before and made sure all doors that needed to be open were open. Once inside, he felt his heartbeat return to normal. He shut the door behind him and took the dilapidated stairs two at a time, swatting away at cobwebs as he ran along, until he encountered yet another open door. A rush of air hit him as he stepped through and took in the vast expanse before him. The building's blueprint had shown that the rooftop was spacious enough to conveniently hold a hundred men but he had not understood until now that it was more appropriately a hundred werewolves. He hurried towards the ledge and looked down. There was no doubt that nobody– not even a wolf– would survive a fall from this height. It didn't matter though because he had no intention of jumping. By the time the king was dead, he would already be halfway home. The moon was shining very brightly tonight. He had not said a prayer in a very long while but the situation tonight required one. He rubbed his palms together and sent a silent one up to the moon goddess. Please help us succeed. An owl hooted nearby. An answer to his prayer. He retrieved a pair of binoculars from inside his worn leather tool bag and peered into it. To the west of the palace, the guards stood around a gate changing shifts. A pair of palace maids carrying silk clothes passed in front of them while carefully sidestepping two drunk palace ministers.. He didn't care about any of these. He turned to the east. The King's quarters. It was eerily quiet with the guards stationed inconspicuously along the stone walls on high alert. He counted. Ten... Twenty... Fifty... Maybe more. He waited, barely breathing, barely blinking, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. The sign came again. It was time to attack. He sensed it before he saw it. Shadows moved rapidly and then clashed. A strangled cry pierced the night's air disrupting it's absolute stillness. And then multiple cries rang out. The slaying was underway; a necessary distraction in order to get to the king. He put down the binoculars and sent a firecracker off into the sky. His own sign. By the time he picked the binoculars up again, smoke was rising from the east wing. He knew that his people were now inside. It had been easy; too easy and even though he knew he should leave now, he stalled. The General had given specific instructions but he wouldn't mind if his plans were tweaked a little. The important thing was for them to return with proof of the King's death. He slung his bag over his chest and hurried down the stairs. The adrenaline was pumping heavily through his veins and had dimmed his ability to think logically. He only smelled blood and headed towards it. The east palace gate was open courtesy his men. He walked through, moving swiftly and silently past the bodies that littered the way to the King's quarters. He hoped no one would get to the king before him as this was his one opportunity to get the General to trust him wholeheartedly. "Who's there!?" He heard a loud voice around the corner and paused. He was standing out in the open with nowhere to hide. He could dash for the stone pillar in front of him but it was at least ten steps away which meant he wouldn't make it in time before this soldier rounded the corner. He could see the shadow creeping stealthily, sword drawn out from around the corner. He could take him on. He didn't want to— he had bigger fish to fry, but he didn't have many options now. He shut his eyes and paced his breathing. He didn't have a sword but he had something even better— the innate ability to deal severe brutality even with only a half transformation. He felt his body start to relax as his breathing became deeper. He felt an unfurling in his arms and abdomen as his claws extended and a guttural scream escaped his mouth. His senses were all of a sudden heightened and even though his eyes were still closed, it felt like he could see everything as clear as day. He heard the swooshing of the sword as it was lifted and he deftly sidestepped his attacker's aim as his eyes flew open. The soldier, a wolf who couldn't be more than twenty, let out a gasp at his appearance. He smirked. Open transformation was against the rules but who really cared about rules? Only fools played it safe. The soldier recovered in time to launch another skillful attack which he barely escaped. If he had been even a second later, the sword would have slashed his arm. The thought annoyed him so much that he roared and lunged at the surprised soldier. He pierced his abdomen with his claws and twisted. The soldier opened his mouth to maybe speak or scream but no sound came out. He watched with mischievous delight as the light in the soldier's eyes went out before he discarded the multilated body and made his way through the entrance. He had wasted too much time and it annoyed him so much that instead of quietly opening the door to the King's chambers, he kicked it down. The sight that greeted him was chaotic. His men were locked in intense battle with the King's, blood and broken pottery pieces scattered everywhere. He jumped into the brawl, majorly fighting his way to the King's room at the end of the hall. He slashed the face of the soldier he was locked in combat with and when the soldier still refused to give up, he pierced his neck with a claw, watching with delight as blood spurted out. The soldier stumbled backwards into another fighting pair before he collapsed. He sighed and struggled through the increasing battle to his goal. His eyes caught a movement at the far end of the narrow hall and he paused. Two men were making a quick getaway dressed in plain servant's clothing. He recognized the frame of the bigger man. He was the king. The two absconding men picked up the pace and rounded a corner. He followed quickly, not caring that he was being anything but stealthy. He rounded the corner and came face to face with the blade of a sword. The king was now getting away alone through a backdoor and the man that had been with him now had a sword out. He chuckled. It would take much more than a bronze sword to keep him from his prey. The King's man rushed forward swinging his sword. He dodged and in one swift maneuver, took the man down before bursting through the back door. The king hadn't gone far. He flailed about, tripping over his feet and yelling for help. He grabbed the king and clamped a hand over his mouth to silence him. "Don't detest me too much. You have to die for the greater good," he whispered and before he could get a reply, he slashed the kings neck in one swift swipe of his claw. Thick blood burst from the King's neck and drenched his body. He let go of the King's mouth and as the king fell, he held firmly onto his tool bag almost taking him down with him. He detached himself and disappeared into the shadows just as the thunderous sound of marching hooves reached him. They were too late though. King Lacasa of Lama kingdom was dead.