45. Atticus

45

ATTICUS

R ain drummed against the roof of the assembly hall like a bad omen. I stood at the front, my boots planted firmly on the wooden floor that reeked of old blood. The Crimson Fang pack murmured around me, their attention flitting my way before darting away just as quick. They were uneasy, and who could blame them? Their alpha had called an impromptu meeting, and now here I was—the rogue wolf, the outcast, standing where no one would have expected me to be.

I scanned the crowd, searching for any sign of empathy or alliance. None looked at me once they realized they had my attention. My father was a leech, sucking the life out of everything he touched, claiming victories he had never earned.

Through our bond, I could almost hear Aria’s heart beating with the falling of the rain, her emotions explosive and wild. Every cell in my body ached for her, needing her calm in this confusion.

The double doors at the back of the room crashed open and silence fell like a guillotine. Caius strode in, his presence overwhelming the space. With a sharp, calculating gaze, he stared over his pack members with an air of ownership. The crowd parted for him as if he were Moses and they the Red Sea. Larkin slunk in his shadow, sallow and gaunt. The bastard looked like death warmed over, but his expression held the same disdain for me as usual.

“Tonight marks the beginning,” Caius boomed. “A new era for the Crimson Fang.”

Larkin glanced my way again, lip curling slightly. I stood my ground, feeling every eye on me, every whisper about me. I was the ripple disrupting their still water, and they were too afraid to voice their questions.

“Atticus,” Caius said, nodding in my direction without an ounce of warmth. There was power in that name— my name—rolling off his tongue. It was a shackle, heavy and unyielding. Larkin’s eyes flashed, but he didn’t challenge his alpha. He knew better.

“An era of strength,” Caius continued. “And unity.”

Caius lifted his hand and pointed at me. I moved from the shadows, each step deliberate, the physical force of their stares pressing against my skin. The whispers started before I even reached the center of the room.

“Atticus will be my right hand,” Caius declared.

Shock hit their faces first, followed by a ripple of confusion that spread through the hall. Fear wasn’t far behind, a living entity that hummed with life, feeding off the collective pulse of the pack. They were trying to piece together the puzzle of me, an exile now standing among them, not as an outcast, but as one of them.

No one spoke up, no one dared. Caius had set the stage and his word was law. Their silence came from terror, not respect. I could see it in their faces, feel it in the shift of their bodies. They were on edge, ready to run or fight, but trapped by their alpha’s command.

“His strength has proven him loyal,” Caius continued as he stared at me. “He has earned his place.”

Those words were meant for them, but they ensnared me too. This role was a badge, a mark of loyalty to a man whose brutality I knew all too well. The pack may have accepted this decision out of fear, but there was more at play. This was a game of survival, and I had just become a key player.

The whispers died down. The hall was still, a sort of calm before the tempest. I stood there, feeling every eye on me.

“Why him?” Kieran stepped out from the crowd, his posture trying to hide the tremble that undercut his defiance.

Every head turned. Kieran stood alone, eyes locked with Caius, waiting for an answer. Or a punishment.

Caius didn’t speak. He slowly raised his hand, fingers curling into a silent command that held more power than any words. Everyone gathered collectively held their breath, waiting for lightning to strike.

Kieran’s knees buckled. His body jerked like an invisible wrecking ball had slammed into him. His gasp was cut short, eyes bulging in terror and surprise. Then, he hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the hall. No one moved to help.

Silence clawed its way deeper into every corner of the room. Caius stood, hand still raised. I couldn’t look away from the body. This was the cost of questioning Caius, of daring to raise your voice.

“Let this be a lesson,” Caius said quietly. “Disobedience is a luxury you cannot afford.”

No growls. No whispers. Just the sound of rain hammering against the roof, mocking us with the freedom it had to fall where it wished.

I glanced at Larkin, now paler than the corpse at our feet. He caught my eye, something dark passing between us. We were all prey here, some just closer to the jaws than others.

“Meeting adjourned,” Caius declared. He turned, cloak swirling around him, leaving us with silence and the dead.

The pack moved toward the exits. The shuffle of feet against stone was all that filled the hall apart from the relentless drumming of rain outside. I stood frozen in place, eyes fixed on Kieran’s body.

“I just can’t believe it,” someone muttered as they passed by.

“Shh, do you want to end up like him?” another hissed back.

I didn’t turn to look at them. I didn’t need to. Their fear was a living thing that clung to the air and seeped into my skin. It was the same fear that kept me rooted in place, a reminder of the tightrope I now walked.

“Atticus,” Larkin said over the murmurs. He stood a few paces away, glancing around nervously. “We should talk strategies, plans for?—”

“Later,” I said flatly. I needed no reminder of the stakes, of the game we were now playing. And he needed to know I would never bow to him. In this hierarchy, he was the scum under my boot.

Larkin nodded once, sharply, and retreated into the dispersing crowd.

I waited until the last of the pack had filed out, their whispers fading with them.

This position, this power, was a blade that could cut me down or help me protect Aria. And I knew which way I’d wield it. I had to watch my back.

I turned then, stepping over the threshold that Kieran’s lifeless body had crossed just moments before. With each step, the shadows around me stirred, acknowledging the path I’d chosen.

I stepped out into the rain, letting it wash over me, wishing it could cleanse the future that lay ahead. The air was thick with a sense of wrongness that seemed to bleed from the soil itself as I moved through the woods under the cover of night. Trees that once stood as stoic guardians now twisted into grotesque shapes, their branches reaching out like crooked fingers, harsh against the moonlit sky. They were silent witnesses to the darkness that had seeped into the Crimson Fang lands, a testament to the corruption my father had sown.

Ahead, the stone loomed. It was old, older than any living wolf, marked with runes that spoke of an ancient power. That power pulsed erratically beneath my skin. My steps slowed as I drew closer, every instinct screaming caution.

I extended a hand toward the cold surface of the stone. The symbols were unfamiliar, but the energy radiating from it was clear as day. I touched the stone, and a jolt of raw magic surged up my arm. It was wild, untamed, so different from the subdued strength that had tormented Aria in her cell.

“We have to break this,” I whispered. There was a buzzing in my ears, the kind of resonance from standing too close to a live wire.

I reached out with my own magic, probing the force emanating from the stone. The shadows around me stirred, reacting to my presence. I’d always been one with the dark, but this... this was something else. My power reached out, tendrils of shadow grasping at the edges of the stone’s aura.

It snapped back, repelled by whatever ancient enchantment was at play. The recoil sent a shiver across my skin. Too strong. It was like trying to hold back the tide with my hands, futile.

“Damn it,” I cursed. There was a mystery here I needed to unravel, a riddle wrapped in darkness. Whatever this stone was, whatever purpose it served, I’d be damned if I’d let it stand in our way.

A voice caught me off guard, a whisper in the dark just as the stone’s power threw my magic back. I spun around, muscles tensed, ready for whatever came next.

“It’s impenetrable. Your magic cannot break it.”

I faced a man cloaked in shadows like an extension of the night itself. His words settled in the pit of my stomach. He was a magic wielder. Presumably the one my father had used to do all this, to put all this power into place.

“Why?” The word came out harsher than I intended. The need to know clawed at me, desperation mixing with anger. “Why are you chained to his will?”

Silence hung heavy. The forest seemed to lean in, listening for his answer, the leaves still and the air thick with anticipation.

The man hesitated, then his lips moved almost imperceptibly. He was so quiet I had to lean in to catch the words seeping out like the faintest breeze through dead leaves. “I am Jehad. He said there would be power beyond measure. Freedom from the chains of our kind. It’s all lies, isn’t it?”

I clenched my fists, anger and betrayal swirling inside me. This man’s story was a twisted mirror to my own, promises dangling just out of reach, a carrot leading us deeper into the snare.

“Don’t believe his lies,” I said in a low growl. “Whatever he’s promised you, it’s nothing but a mirage. He’s using you, just as he’s trying to use me. We’re pawns in his game for power, nothing more.”

The man stared back at me, his face half-hidden in the shadows. The silence stretched out, thick with unspoken truths and shared deceptions. I recognized the look on his face, the one that came when hope battled resignation.

“We can fight him,” I said. “Whatever hold he has over you, we can break it. You don’t have to be a tool for his tyranny.”

He looked at me, worry and fear blazing from his eyes. Then he shook his head slowly, as if the motion itself was painful.

“Your ambitions are praiseworthy but futile,” Jehad said. “Caius is undefeatable. We would both be foolish to defy him. I tried, once I realized his true motives, but I couldn’t stand against him. He coerced me, I’m just a humble warlock, and now it’s too late. It’s too late to defeat him.”

“Nobody is undefeatable,” I argued, but the only response was the rustling leaves as Jehad retreated into the dense forest, leaving me alone with my rebellious thoughts. I wanted to stay and work with the stone longer but had to make my retreat. With a lingering gaze, I began my trek on foot, allowing the steady rhythm of my steps to prepare myself for what lay ahead.

The forest thinned out, and I could feel the change. Every step took me deeper into my father’s territory, deeper into the Crimson Fang lands. He had his claws sunk into this place. I stepped lightly, but it was no use. There were sentries everywhere, tucked away in every dark nook and cranny of the land.

“Atticus.” One nodded as I passed. No smile, just recognition, a warning wrapped up in a single word.

“Keep sharp,” I replied. It was their job to guard this place, to keep out intruders. To keep me in, maybe.

The path wound on, and the woods gave way to open space. The alpha house loomed ahead, its dark stone cutting a harsh silhouette against the gray sky. Spikes reached out like talons, clawing at the clouds. This was home, if you could call it that.

I pushed the front door open. Its hinges creaked as it labored to keep the heavy oak doors open. Inside, luxury choked every corner. Gold and velvet covered every surface—my father’s excessive taste showing off his wealth and power.

“Back so soon?” The voice boomed down from the staircase. Caius, ever present, ever watching.

“Got what I needed,” I said, keeping my posture relaxed but ready. Every instinct told me to turn and run, but this was part of the deal. My part.

“Good,” he said, a grin curling his lips. “We have much to discuss.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered as I headed to the stairs, wondering how long before I could slip away into the shadows again.

I pushed through the door to my quarters. The room was too perfect, untouched by time or presence, a showroom meant to impress rather than comfort. I stepped inside, the scent of old wood and lingering polish a stark contrast to the fresh earthiness of the forest I’d left behind.

I eyed the grandeur with a mix of disdain and suspicion. How long had this cage been waiting for me? The bed was too large, the windows too grand, offering a view of lands that were no longer mine. Each piece of furniture was a shackle, ornate and cold to the touch.

The tapestries on the walls depicted wolves in various states of hunting and rest, their threads shimmering darkly. My gaze settled on one—a lone wolf staring back at me, its expression a mirror of my own feelings. This wasn’t home. Home was a den in the woods, humble but filled with genuine laughter and love.

A growl escaped me, low and involuntary. My thoughts turned to Aria. Was she safe? What had I done, binding myself to this place, to my father’s ambitions? The plush carpet beneath my boots mocked me, a reminder of every luxury I didn’t ask for, every freedom I’d traded away.

Restless, I paced. The shadows called to me, promising an escape, a fleeting visit to her side. Then heat flared on my skin, my tattoo searing with a familiar urgency. Caius needed me.

“Fuck,” I hissed, the walls closing in. Just like that, the shadows retreated, leaving me exposed. My hand brushed against the ink, the burn receding.

With a last look at the room, I turned my back on the gilded prison and strode toward the inevitability waiting beyond its doors.

I walked up to the dais where my father stood, his grin cold as the winter moon. “How did you find the welcome ceremony?” he asked.

“Cut to the chase. What do you want?”

His smile never wavered. “I need you to take care of Larkin. His usefulness has expired.”

I froze. “You want him dead?”

He nodded.

“If I refuse?” The words left my mouth, but the conviction in them was as thin as ice on a late winter pond.

“If you refuse, you’ll see the consequences of breaking our tie. You’ll die.”

The burn in my arm flared up, each mark branding me anew.

“I agreed to be your heir, I never agreed to murder for you,” I said through gritted teeth. The pain was getting harder to ignore.

“Didn’t you, though? When you agreed to submit to me.” His tone suggested that my compliance was never an option. It was a statement, not a question.

The door creaked open. “You called, sir?”

Larkin stepped inside, looking from one of us to the other—looking for approval or a task to jump at. His anxiety was palpable, but so was his desire to please.

Caius nodded at Larkin, then stared at me. Expectation bore down on me. Gritting my teeth, I extended my hand, calling on the shadows that clung to the corners of the room. They responded like loyal hounds, coiling around my arm and reaching toward Larkin.

A quick flick of dark tendrils, a sharp snap, and it was done. Larkin’s body hit the floor with a dull thud that echoed in the sudden silence.

“Good,” Caius said simply. “Very good.”

I stared at Larkin’s lifeless form, feeling nothing and everything all at once.