CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
1060 Words
The king of the kingdom sat in the war chamber, the fire throwing long shadows across the table. On it lay a single document: the census of wealth in the kingdom. At the top, circled in red ink, two words
" Lord Dutch Household"
Two hundred years ago, they had been his family’s servants.
Now they owned more land, more trade routes, and more loyalty than the crown itself.
A knock. His advisor entered, bowing low. “They’ve refused the loyalty oath again, sire. Lord Dutch says if you want to see him, you’ll meet him as an equal.”
The king didn’t answer right away. He was listening to a voice from the past — his great-grandfather’s voice, from the night the old man lay dying in a cabin outside the capital.
"Flashback"
The old king was 70, his hands shaking, but his eyes still sharp.
“They were servants,” he rasped. “Our servants. We fed them, clothed them, used them to fight our wars. And then my father got greedy. He beat their head servant half to death and threw him out to die.”
The young prince , the king’s grandfather listened in silence.
“But he didn’t die,” the old king continued. “The wolves found him. Turned him. When he came back, he was an alpha. Stronger than any of our guards, smarter than any of our lords. He remembered every name, every whip, every insult.”
The old king gripped the prince’s wrist, hard.
“He didn’t beg for mercy. He built. Trade, land, alliances. By the time your father was born, the Lord Dutch Household was richer than the crown. Their goal was never to serve us again. Their goal was to bring us down.”
He released the grip, falling back against the furs.
“And now it’s your goal too. They think power stays where it’s born. It doesn’t. It goes where it’s taken. Take it back.”
End Flashback
The king exhaled. The fire cracked.
The Lord Dutch Household had climbed higher than any royal house ever had. And his ancestors had let it happen, too afraid and too greedy to stop it in time.
His advisor shifted nervously. “Sire? Your orders?"
A bird flew inside the King's court clutching a piece on paper on it nails.
The king took it ,it was a secret message.
The cellar door creaked shut behind the last man, and the candlelight flickered against stone walls slick with damp. Outside, the city slept. Inside, six men leaned over a scarred wooden table, voices low but sharp with intent.
At the head of the table sat the A man huge man with eyes that never blinked too long. In his hand was a paper.
warm.
“The plan stays the same,” A man said, smoothing the paper flat.
“They had the audacity to reject the kings loyalty oath. They think they have power more than this kingdom . but they don't "
One of the men, with a scar across his jaw, tapped the table.
“ send a spy to the Lord Dodge household".
“we have to move early,” said a merchant.
servant who dare built fortune that surpass royal . “We won't let them know. We let them feel safe. And when they we know their weaknesses we strike”
A Man nodded.
“The king’s word is final. The Lord Dodge family has grown too powerful. They think they’re above the crown because their ancestor was beaten and left for dead. They turned that into strength. Now that strength is a threat.”
A younger man spat out
“ when we know their weaknesses we used it against them.
Then we declare them traitors,”
. “We seize their lands, freeze their trade, and turn the other houses against them. Either way, the Lord Dodge name ends.”
A man said flatly.
He pushed the paper across the table. It was a list: routes to block, allies to bribe, guards to reassign. All of it leading to one outcome.
The one Man picked it up, studied it, and grinned. “Two hundred years they’ve been climbing. It ends here.”
The candle guttered. Outside, footsteps passed the cellar door and kept going. Got it — the voice note says he *told them to investigate who did it*. That changes the scene a lot. Here’s the corrected version:
The throne room was quiet except for the low crackle of the braziers. Alexander sat on the dais, half-lounged, one elbow on the armrest, watching his court with that look that made people choose their words carefully. Laura laid on his bed in his court, body filled with bruises and a physician stood by the bed.
Then the doors slammed open.
An alpha and an omega strode in, both dust-covered, blood spattered across the alpha’s sleeve and the omega’s hands trembling even though they tried to keep them still. They dropped to one knee before the dais.
“Sir Alexander,” the alpha said, voice tight. “We have a report.”
Alexander sat up, eyes sharp. “Speak.”
“One of your pack members is dead,” the omega said. “Murdered. It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t clean.”
The alpha swallowed, then forced it out: “They tore him apart. We found him in the Easterncliff. Whoever did it wanted him to suffer. Wanted us to find him like that.”
The room went still. Courtiers stopped breathing.
Alexander’s jaw clenched. For a second, it looked like he’d explode. Then he exhaled through his nose and leaned forward.
“Find out who did it,” he said. His voice was low, controlled, and colder than rage. “Every name. Every trail. Every person who touched this. I want to know who killed one of mine.”
The alpha hesitated. “If we start pulling at this, it could start a war, sir Alexander”
Alexander’s eyes flashed. “Then let it start. No one kills my pack and walks away. You have my order. Investigate. And bring me the names.”
The omega bowed lower, fear and relief mixing in their expression. They’d expected fury, not a plan.
Alexander sat back, but his fingers drummed once against the armrest.
The hunt was on.
- Writer
