A slave to the Alpha I rejected

Tension brewing

Nerves grew and tension spread through the silence of the grand hall of the silver palace.

Figures sat around an oval table. Five chairs were set around, yet only three were occupied by males, all with their beta guards by their sides as they waited.

“Unbelievable that a Rahl heir still lives. I should have suspected when the Sorgale territory began to gain protectors in numbers.

I should have known Silas’s spawn was still alive,” Emorott, the Chief of Redstone, muttered.

“I wonder how the hell you didn’t know about Syzarion’s plan, Korak!” Chief Archon of Moonvale called to the Bluestone alpha.

The Bluestone chief stayed stiff, his hands arched under his chin as his dark eyes watched the Moonvale chief.

“Of course, I had no idea either,” Korak said quietly. His brows drew together, leaning into a frown as Archon snarled.

“You were Silas’s brother-in-arms, the Rahl family took you as their son, and you became his brother. You are his uncle, and you had no idea of our nephew’s whereabouts for five years?”

All of them had thought the Rahl blood was truly gone and dead, and the only surprise was finding out the true heir was back. Now, they needed to tread carefully.

His return was a perfect balance back to the flipped scale, and they all knew to be careful of the Alpha Syzar.

“Enough, Archon. We all thought he was dead. I’m sure Korak had no idea; of course, after his own firstborn son, Xaden, died during the siege, he must have thought Syzar suffered the same fate,” Emorott said, and Archon frowned.

But the silent question still loomed between them: was this truly Silas’ heir, or was it a fake that had come to claim the throne instead?

“That’s why he isn’t under so much pressure like us,” Archon hissed.

“The alpha was making the largest and most powerful armies and allies while we stayed unknowing. Look at the Crossvale pack that fell in barely a day! He could kill us where we sit,” the Vale-Stone chief hissed, just as the mighty doors opened.

The tense silence grew as they all stood to Syzar’s presence; the once snarky smirk fell from Emorott’s face when he sighted Syzar’s mighty frame towering through the door.

His presence commanded nothing but utter fear and respect as Archon swallowed a breath, while Korak held a soft smile on his face. Syzar walked to his assigned seat.

By his side stood the beta twins with white hair; their appearance made the Moonvale chief somewhat nervous.

He could barely stay still in his seat at their appearance, one that felt too familiar, but instead faced the alpha—monster—once again.

“It surely is good to see you again, nephew,” Korak’s voice choked as Syzar stared at him. There was no softness in his face, but there was no hate either.

Whatever Crossvale had done, it had broken his spirit and turned him into an outright cold beast. One that was fearless.

“Welcome back, prince—I mean, King Rahl,” Archon started first. “We heard the story of how those bastards imprisoned you from the Crossvale pack!” Archon said while they settled down.

Just then the door opened again, and Nyssa strode in, her dark blue gown sweeping the halls with crystals on her back, hands, and hair, a soft smile on her face as she bowed to them and took her seat.

“H-how dare a mere woman take the seat of the Winterstone chief!” Emorott accused, hand raised and pointed toward Nyssa.

“You will do best not to point your f*****g hands at my advisor, Emorott,” Syzar’s voice rumbled as the man sat back down.

“A royal supervisor as a woman… I see,” Emorott muttered while Archon and Korak stared at Nyssa, whose chest swelled with pride.

“The speared heads at the gate greeted us meekly and showed your victory well, nephew,” Korak started, gaining his attention, “but I only see two heads of the Crossvale traitors…”

“Yes, where is the bastard son and the Ayvoc! I can take that useless b***h off your hands,” Archon said with a chuckle.

“I will give them wrath for the cruelty Crossvale’s bastard Dregan showed my brother and sister; I will kill her,” the Moonvale chief said.

“If you are just going to kill her, give the Ayvoc to me. I hear she knows not the touch of a man, so she will be a sweet wine to savor!” Emorott exclaimed. His eyes were cruel.

Their cruel declaration gave Nyssa a silent joy as she watched, wishing for Syzar to heed their request.

It would be fun to see Celeste scream and cry for her life while they all watched.

All expected a different outcome, but never Syzar’s surprising reply: “Dealing with the Orion blood is my revenge and no one else’s. She is my slave, and when I’m done with her, then I will decide what comes next,” he said. Archon’s smile stretched.

“We will take you up on that offer when the time comes, Alpha Syzar,” Archon said as Korak sat, watching Syzar.

Gone was the young, quiet child he knew; gone was the child who held a bright smile and chased around his son Xaden, who was his best friend. Now, scars and pain were the pattern of his story.

Korak stared at the two males who stood beside him, eyes hard as the longer-haired of the two watched him with cold eyes.

He could see their silent strength in their weapons, knowing they held power that caused the other chiefs to be on edge.

“Why have you called us here?” Korak said quietly while the other two quieted down. Nyssa spoke.

“Through all the chaos, many important deals owed to your kingdom by your packs have not been paid. I expect the money and resources we lent you—and those ‘stolen’—to be paid back in full,” Nyssa said.

“You... you…” Archon started but shut up; a wave of embarrassment heated his blood as he trembled, but there was no lie there.

During the Time of Famine, the Sorgale pack had given Redstone and Moonvale aid. And during the siege, they were guilty of using it to their advantage.

Now it was a debt they needed to pay back, on pain of death. Korak sat, impressed by Syzar’s smart play of politics.

In a few hours, the meeting was adjourned, with Korak staying back with Syzar while Archon and Emorott were shown out.

They both stopped in their steps as Nyssa came to the front with a mischievous bow to the chiefs before she whispered,

“Don’t worry about the slave. When it’s time, I will serve her to you both on a silver platter myself,” she informed them with a wicked smile, her hate burning to get rid of Celeste.

She was bound to make her life a living hell.