CHAPTER TWELVE
1510 Words
CHAPTER TWELVE
Omnipotent POV
The chamber was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of candlelight dancing against the stone walls.
The king sat on a velvet couch, a glass of deep red wine resting lazily in his hand. His long robe hung loosely over his frame, exposing a hint of his chest. Despite the lines of age etched faintly on his face, he remained striking—an older reflection of Evan.
Silence filled the room, heavy but not uncomfortable.
A young servant approached quietly, refilled his glass, and retreated without a word.
Moments later—
A soft knock echoed.
“Enter.”
The door creaked open.
A man stepped in, dressed in an ancient white robe, a jade fan resting between his fingers. His long white hair flowed down his back, and his face—flawless, almost unreal—carried an ethereal calm, like a deity who had no business walking among mortals.
Yet beneath that calm…
Power.
Quiet. Controlled. Dangerous.
“Old greaser… you’re late,” the king said without opening his eyes, lazily swirling the wine in his glass.
He looked relaxed. Carefree.
Nothing like the feared Alpha king the world bowed to.
“Stop calling me old. Anyone hearing you might believe it,” Cassius replied, stepping fully into the room.
The king let out a low chuckle and finally opened his eyes.
“You are old. Evan’s been calling you that for ten years now. Guess your face can’t hide everything.”
He took a slow sip of his wine.
“Why were you late?” he added, his tone lighter—but observant. “That’s unlike you.”
Cassius brushed invisible dust from his sleeve.
“I’m still part werewolf, Malfoy. It’s the full moon. I had to hunt.” His lips curved slightly. “Not all of us are blessed by the Moon Goddess like you.”
A smirk tugged at Malfoy’s lips.
“And what did you hunt?”
“A few unfortunate rogues at the border.” Cassius shrugged. “You should send your sons instead. Your guards are getting sloppy.”
Malfoy sighed, the sound quieter than expected.
“I doubt Evan would listen to me now.”
Cassius rolled his eyes.
“You have other sons.”
“They lack sense.”
A short laugh escaped Cassius.
“They’d lose their minds if they heard you say that.”
Malfoy scoffed softly.
“Evan is more sensible.”
There was a pause.
Cassius studied him carefully this time—really looked.
Something was off.
“What happened?” he asked, voice lower now.
For a brief moment—
Just a second—
The king’s fingers tightened slightly around his glass.
Then he smiled.
But it didn’t reach his eyes.
“I divorced his mother.”
The words dropped into the room like a stone into still water.
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Unmoving.
Cassius didn’t speak immediately. His brows slowly drew together.
“Why?” he finally asked. “Is it because of what you saw?”
Malfoy leaned back, his gaze drifting upward as though avoiding the weight of the question.
“I can still see it,” he said quietly.
His voice had changed.
Softer.
Distant.
“Her crying… begging me to stop…”
His grip on the glass tightened slightly.
“And I couldn’t.”
The flickering candlelight seemed colder now.
“I’ve hurt her enough in this life,” he continued. “I won’t let that future happen too.”
Cassius’ expression hardened.
“And you think this is better? Breaking her now?”
A small, humorless chuckle left Malfoy.
“At least this pain…” he murmured, “is something she can survive.”
The room fell silent again.
But this time—
It wasn’t empty.
It was heavy with something unspoken.
“You’re doing this for him, aren’t you?” Cassius asked.
Malfoy didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
A pause.
“He already hates me,” he added quietly. “This will only make it worse… which is good.”
Cassius exhaled slowly.
“Have you found the girl?”
Malfoy’s eyes darkened slightly.
“I’m not sure.” He swirled the wine in his glass again, slower this time. “But I found someone… her powers haven’t awakened yet.”
He paused.
“But something feels… off. Different.”
Cassius frowned.
“The fate of your son—and the entire pack—rests on her. Are you certain?”
Malfoy stared into his wine, as though searching for answers within it.
“No,” he admitted.
Then, after a beat—
“But I’ve sent people to test her.”
His gaze lifted, calm once more.
“Soon… we’ll know.”
Anna POV
“Holy hell…”
The words slipped out before I could stop them.
I turned sharply, staring at the massive black gate behind us—tall, imposing, almost royal.
It made no sense.
Just moments ago, the outside of this place had been nothing but a broken, abandoned building—shabby, silent, lifeless.
And now—
Music blasted through the air.
Lights flashed.
Bodies moved everywhere.
Teenagers crowded the space, dancing, laughing, shouting over the noise.
It was like stepping into another world.
“Shocking, right?” Stella shouted, grinning, her blonde hair catching the lights.
“How is this even possible…?” I muttered, still trying to process what I was seeing.
“It’s an illusion,” Emma explained.
“My great-grandmother created it. She was from a family of spell makers.” There was pride in her voice—but something else too. Something quieter. “It was made to hide werewolves from witches during the war. It’s been standing for years.”
“Spell makers? Witches?” I blinked. “What are—”
“Nothing,” Stella cut in quickly.
Too quickly.
“Come on. Let’s get away from this crowd.”
Before I could question it further, she grabbed my hand and pulled me through the mass of bodies.
We moved past the dance floor, down a narrow alley—
And then—
Out onto a balcony.
I froze.
We weren’t above ground.
We were underground.
And what lay before me…
Was an entire world.
People filled the space below—far more than the crowd upstairs.
Children ran freely in wolf forms, laughter echoing as their mothers calling after them.
Men greeted each other warmly.
Teenagers gathered in groups, talking, laughing—
Living.
I spotted a girl from my street.
Her hair—white.
Her body—half-shifted.
My chest tightened.
This wasn’t just a hidden place.
This was their world.
“Let’s go,” Stella said, already pulling me forward again.
We pushed deeper into the crowd until we reached a tightly packed circle.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“A fight,” Emma replied, eyes lighting up.
Inside the ring—
Two wolves faced each other.
A white male.
A black female.
The air between them was tense.
Then—
The male raised his hand.
Ice formed instantly, sharp and gleaming—
And then—
CRACK!
The spear shot forward.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
The female twisted just in time, the spear slicing past her side, leaving a thin line of blood.
She didn’t stop.
She lunged.
Another spear formed.
Then another.
The air filled with the sharp, slicing sound of ice cutting through space—fast, relentless, unforgiving.
She dodged again.
And again.
But not perfectly.
A spear grazed her arm.
Another cut her leg.
Blood began to stain her dark fur.
Still—
She kept moving.
My stomach tightened.
“Isn’t this… unfair?” I asked, frowning as another set of spears flew toward her.
“Unfair?” Stella let out a short laugh. “That’s Corvet. Ice wolf lineage.”
She nodded toward the girl.
“And that’s Carol. Warrior wolf.”
I looked back at the fight.
“It doesn’t look like she’s winning.”
Emma chuckled softly.
“That’s because you don’t understand yet.”
She leaned slightly closer.
“Warrior wolves don’t just fight,” she said. “They endure.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
Stella’s eyes gleamed.
“Every wound she takes…” she said slowly, “can be returned.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
Emma nodded.
“And not just returned. Multiplied.”
I turned back sharply.
Carol stumbled slightly—
Another cut opened across her side.
Blood.
So much blood.
And yet—
Her movements were changing.
Slower…
But more precise.
More deliberate.
“She’s letting him hit her…” I whispered.
“Exactly,” Stella said.
A chill ran down my spine.
Carol suddenly stopped dodging.
Just for a second.
A spear struck—
And in that instant—
She moved.
Fast.
Faster than before.
She lunged.
The crowd erupted.
My eyes locked onto her wounds.
All of them.
Every single one.
Did that mean—
She took all that damage…
Just to give it back?
Stronger?
My body shivered.
That was terrifying.
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