Third Person's POV
DARK MOON PACK – ALPHA'S CHAMBER
The chamber was dimly lit, but not quiet.
Nothing about it felt calm.
The walls were built from dark stone, rough and uneven, giving the entire space a suffocating feel. Heavy black curtains hung over tall windows, blocking out most of the moonlight, leaving only faint silver streaks slipping through the edges. The air smelled of iron, wine, and something darker, something that lingered like decay.
At the center of the room stood a wide table covered with maps, scattered scrolls, and broken glass.
And behind it…
Eric.
He did not look like a man in control.
He looked like something unraveling.
His dark hair was disordered, strands falling across his forehead, his breathing uneven as he paced back and forth like a trapped animal. His eyes burned with something unstable, something dangerous. They were sharp, identical to Kael's in structure, but darker, colder, filled with something that had long lost restraint.
"No… no… no…" he muttered under his breath.
His hand slammed against the table suddenly, sending a glass cup crashing to the floor. It shattered instantly, the sharp sound echoing loudly through the chamber.
"This is not possible!"
His voice rose, raw and filled with rage.
"He should be dead!"
Another glass followed.
He grabbed it without thinking and threw it across the room. It hit the stone wall and exploded into fragments, scattering across the floor like pieces of his control slipping away.
His chest rose and fell rapidly as he dragged a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly.
"I calculated everything," he continued, his voice shaking now, no longer just angry but desperate. "Bane's poison does not fail. It does not weaken. It kills."
He stopped pacing suddenly.
Silence fell for a brief moment.
Then he let out a sharp, bitter laugh.
"So why…" he whispered, his voice cracking slightly, "is he still alive?"
His eyes darkened further.
Images flashed in his mind, memories he refused to let go of, things that fed his anger instead of calming it.
Kael.
Everything always came back to him.
"You always take everything from me," he muttered, his jaw tightening.
His breathing became uneven again, and suddenly, without warning, he swept his arm across the table, sending everything crashing to the ground. Papers scattered, bottles shattered, liquid spilling across the floor.
"I won't let you win again!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the chamber.
For a moment, it looked like he might completely lose control.
Then the door opened.
A man stepped in carefully.
He did not rush. He did not speak immediately. He simply walked in with measured steps, his posture straight but cautious, as if he knew exactly what kind of storm he was walking into.
Elder Jordon.
He was a tall man, slightly older in appearance, with a lean but firm build that showed he still carried strength despite his age. His hair was a mix of dark and grey, cut short and neatly kept, while his beard was trimmed but full, giving him a respectable and composed look. His eyes were sharp, observant, constantly calculating.
He wore the traditional elder robes of Kael's pack, a long dark brown garment tied at the waist, simple yet dignified. Over it rested a thick cloak, slightly worn at the edges, hinting at years of service and experience.
On the outside, he looked like loyalty.
On the inside…
He was something else entirely.
He stepped over the broken glass without flinching.
"Alpha Eric," he said calmly, his voice low and controlled.
Eric turned slowly.
His eyes locked onto Jordon, still burning with anger, but now something else crept in.
Focus.
"You're late," Eric said, his voice cold.
Jordon bowed his head slightly, just enough to show respect without lowering himself too much.
"I came as soon as I received your call."
Eric let out a sharp breath, turning away as he ran a hand across his face.
"He's alive," he said.
Jordon did not react immediately.
"Rohan?" he asked, his tone neutral.
"Yes, Rohan!" Eric snapped, spinning back toward him. "He was supposed to be dead by now! The poison should have finished him!"
Jordon's eyes narrowed slightly, not in shock, but in thought.
"That is… unexpected," he said carefully.
"Unexpected?" Eric let out a bitter laugh. "No. Impossible."
Silence settled briefly between them.
Then Eric moved closer, his expression darkening.
"Something interfered," he said.
Jordon remained still.
"What do you mean?" he asked.
Eric's gaze sharpened.
"The poison reacted," he said slowly. "It weakened. That only happens if something stronger opposes it."
Jordon's mind worked quickly behind his calm expression.
Ariella.
The thought came, but he buried it.
"And what do you plan to do?" he asked instead.
Eric's lips curved into something that was not quite a smile.
Something darker.
"I fix it."
He turned and walked toward a smaller table at the corner of the room, where several sealed containers rested. He picked one up carefully, holding it between his fingers as he examined the dark liquid inside.
"This…" he said quietly, "is not like the first."
He turned back to Jordon.
"This one doesn't give time. It doesn't weaken slowly. It consumes."
Jordon's eyes flickered briefly, but his face remained composed.
"A stronger poison," he said.
Eric nodded slowly.
"Yes. And this time…" his voice dropped, becoming almost a whisper, "nothing will interfere."
He stepped closer, extending the small container toward Jordon.
"You will take this to them."
Jordon did not move immediately.
"You want me to deliver it inside the pack?" he asked.
Eric's gaze hardened.
"You're already inside," he said. "Or have you forgotten your role?"
Jordon finally reached out and took the container.
It felt heavier than it looked.
"I haven't forgotten," he replied calmly.
Eric watched him closely, searching for any sign of hesitation.
There was none.
Good.
"Make sure he drinks it," Eric said. "I don't care how."
Jordon nodded once.
"It will be done."
Eric stepped back slightly, his breathing finally starting to slow, but the madness had not left his eyes.
It was still there.
Burning.
Unstable.
"Kael thinks he can have everything," he muttered, almost to himself now. "Power. loyalty. a mate…"
His grip tightened slightly.
"I'll take it all from him," he said quietly.
Then his gaze lifted again, sharp and filled with something deadly.
"Starting with hope."
Jordon turned to leave, the container hidden carefully within his cloak.
His steps were calm.
Measured.
But his mind was not still.
Because for the first time…
Something was no longer going according to plan.
And somewhere deep inside, even he knew
This was only the beginning.