My Lair

Zidane

T hey escaped, Alpha! I'm sorry, they had backup. Shall we regroup and go after them?

They escaped.

I had given up the chase at pack borders and returned, commanding my men to continue.

My head squeezes with rage as I pull on the pants someone passes me, right before I snap his head off.

My eyes dart around the dinner hall trying to calm my rage.

They got away!

"BASTARDS!" I shriek as I punch the wall. The urge to kill rises within me again, and my hands tremble with unbridled rage.

In my mania-filled haze as I destroy the room around me, my eyes fall on the body of the Latina woman.

Someone's alive it seems. I walk over to her, kicking aside the dead as I glare down at the woman. She's breathing, but barely.

I want to tear her to bits, rip into her mercilessly and destroy her completely, but she can be rather useful. After all, she had managed to inject Scarlett with the strong dose of wolfsbane.

Smiling coldly, I place my blood-covered foot on her head. A small whimper escapes her, and I apply more pressure.

"Because of what you managed to do, I will let you live a little while longer," I inform her before delivering a sharp kick to her head. She gasps weakly. Smirking, I use her as a stepping stool, applying full pressure to her head as I step on it, taking my sweet time, enjoying making her suffer.

She whimpers weakly, and I'm certain that must have been painful. She faints and I look down at her, stepping over her as I leave the room, stopping in the hall where the wolves who were meant to catch Scarlett and that wretched alpha are cowering in fear as they kneel before me in a line.

I look at them with rage, contempt and amusement.

Despite the blood splattered across my body and the deep scratches that Scarlett had left on me, I am calm and composed. But all the men here know that calmness is far more dangerous than rage.

I pace before them, each step I take echoes in the silence.

"Not one of you was able to stop two kids… two fucking kids from escaping," I hiss, my voice poisonous as I approach the wolves. Cade is also kneeling there, despite being severely injured.

One man looks up with fear in his eyes. "Alpha, please forgive us. They had help-" The man does not live to finish his sentence as I rip his head from his body, throwing it to the ground.

"I do not need incompetent wolves serving me!" I spit, moving to the next man in the line. My claws come out and I rip the man's heart out, crushing it in my fist. "I need wolves who are strong and are able to get the fucking job done!"

With every word I speak, my rage only grows as I walk down the line, punishing them all – gouging one man's eyes out, tearing the next one's intestines out, another one loses his arms and legs. Some die instantly, others writhe in agony before death comes.

The smell of blood is intense, and it satisfies me. Even if it satiates only the smallest part of me. I want more. I want to kill everyone. To rip them all to shreds. Death and blood. Ahh, how good it feels.

Cade is the only one left after I am done murdering the other eleven men.

"How many men did we lose out there?" I ask venomously.

"At least nine were killed by the other alpha and his men, who were lying in wait." Cade looks around at the dead bodies and I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself.

The ground is an ocean of blood, the coppery smell in the air is powerful.

"Fools, all of them," I say, glaring at Cade. "Find out the name of the alpha who helped them, and his pack. Everyone knows the laws. No one is allowed to interfere with another's pack."

"Yes, Alpha, I have men already looking into it," Cade bows to me before he gets up and staggers from the hall like a pathetic weakling.

I step over more bodies and look into the dining hall, which is full of dead bodies torn apart.

The mess.

Shaking my head, I crouch down beside the woman and, grabbing a fistful of her hair, drag her up.

"Maya, my darling, get this place cleaned up before I have to end you right here," I say dangerously. "If it's not done soon, you'll be joining them." She struggles to get up and I scoff. Elijah had hurt her brutally and her bones will need time to heal.

He had a big wolf… bigger than mine. How is that even possible?

He is not of the two bloodlines. I know the other, so who is he exactly? I need to talk to the witch. Immediately. This is something she might know of. Maybe she is trying to keep it from me or if she doesn't know, then perhaps I will ask for something more in return.

"Get up, you filthy whore!" I snarl.

Maya staggers to her feet. "Y-yes, Alpha…" she rasps.

Standing, I shove her to the ground before I turn, not looking back as I walk towards the stairs and head upstairs to my office, leaving bloody footprints in my wake.

Entering my office, I sit on the chair in the darkness, not caring to turn the light on. Placing my feet on the table, I cross them at the ankles.

This didn't end as I wanted, but at least I managed to mark her. She'll come back or I will go to her.

When we complete the marking and I force her to mark me back, I will grow stronger. I will break her completely until she bends to my will without fail. She already holds fear of me, no matter how much she tries to hide it. So I will use that against her. I will kill everyone she holds dear, but first I will torture them until she begs for me to stop, but I won't.

I take out a cigarette and light it. Only the glowing ember at the tip of the cigarette fills the otherwise pitch-black room.

How had I not seen Scarlett's abilities as a child? The signs were right in front of me… Even if she hadn't yet shifted her ability was present…

10 YEARS AGO – DESERT STORM PACK

Unknowing to the pathetic little child who tip-toes down the hall, I lie in wait. I returned earlier from my trip and it's good I did. It seems she's out to disobey me already.

I sit in the lounge, puffing on a cigarette. Her small light footsteps can be heard on the steps, and my eyes flash dangerously.

Oh, how I hate being disobeyed.

I know it's her, my eight-year-old Scarlett, and I smile when her little head of strawberry blond hair comes into view as she passes by the open door of the lounge. I'm sitting in the dark and the stupid little child doesn't even think to look this way.

How foolish.

She continues down the hall and I smirk coldly as I silently make my way to the open door. She's wearing a worn-out cotton nightgown that does nothing in this bitter cold.

Scarlett, Scarlett, Scarlett…

It's a beautiful name she has. I named her myself. Scarlett. The colour of blood. One of my favourite things.

I'm bored and I don't really want to fuck a woman right now. This will be a lot more fun.

I slip out into the hallway as the little girl, who looks smaller than her age, enters the kitchen quietly. I follow, my cold smile growing at the thought of the fear she will feel.

She's tiptoeing towards the cupboard, and just as she reaches for it I speak.

"Well, well, well… looks like there's a little rat on the loose," I hiss, my voice dropping an octave. Scarlett freezes, her heart thundering so loud it reminds me of a drum being pounded on. Oh, how it excites me.

She turns slowly, the smell of fear filling the kitchen. Her long, waist-length hair falls around her shoulders, and her usually pale skin looks ghostly as her eyes land on me.

I smile, tilting my head as I lean against the kitchen door.

"Papa…" she whispers, her lip quivering and her eyes shining with tears. "I'm sorry! I was hungry." She drops to her knees, bowing her head as her entire body shakes.

"Now, now. We both know a sorry isn't good enough. Wouldn't you agree, my little princess?" I ask, walking over to her. I crouch down in front of her, stroking her little head before I twist my hand into her hair. "One sound and I will make sure both your mother and sister suffer the same punishment as you," I hiss.

She clamps her mouth shut, her tears flowing down her cheeks, yet she dares not utter a sound.

I wrench her up by the hair and stand, not caring that I am dangling my child by her hair. She tries to grab my wrists to ease the pain, failing miserably.

I carry her out of the mansion. The urge to bash her into the wall is intense, but I will be patient, carrying her to my favourite play place. My garage.

"Please, Papa, not there," she begs in fear.

"I said zip it!" I hiss, entering the garage. I lead her past the array of expensive supercars, stopping at the door that is locked at the back of the garage. She whimpers, knowing what is coming.

After all, this is her special punishment room. She cries softly,

"Please forgive me, Papa. I won't do it ever again. I promise, Papa. Please," she whimpers, but I simply smile cruelly, entering the soundproofed room and throw the child across the room. She hits the far wall and tumbles to the ground, crying out in pain as I slam the door shut behind me.

It locks automatically, and I roll my neck, excitement rushing through me.

"Now… what shall we play today?" I ask. She quickly gets to her knees, bowing as she begs for mercy.

Removing the cigarette from my lips, I walk towards her and stab the butt of my cigarette into the back of her neck. She screams as the smell of burnt flesh fills the air. I chuckle sadistically.

"How fascinating..." I murmur. I love to torture her because she heals incredibly fast, faster than even me. It is something I hate, yet enjoy, because she is the one target who will last longer than the rest. She quivers in fear when I pick up some screws.

"We should never ever steal, don't you agree?" I whisper. Grabbing her by her hair, I drag her to the heavy stained wood table, a table reserved especially for her. I yank her onto it, not caring that she hits the table face-first, or that blood is coming out of her nose. "These hands of yours really should learn to not steal!" Taking the first 3-inch screw, I flick it in my fingers before slamming it through her hand. She screams in agony, but I don't stop. Not until each finger is pierced with a screw.

Scarlett sobs in pain, her hands now impaled with 14 screws as she cries in anguish. The blood that drips from her hand makes me extremely happy.

"Please, Papa, I promise I won't steal again!" she cries.

"Did I say you could speak, you bitch!" I shout, my eyes blazing in rage. Grabbing her by the hair again, I slam her face-first into the table where her hands are pinned to the table with the screws. Her blood stains the already stained wooden table with a fresh coat of red.

Ah, beautiful…

"S-sorry…" she whispers weakly as I repeatedly slam her face-first onto her hands. The screws pierce her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. She tries to move as if trying to protect her ugly little eyes from being impaled. Now I wouldn't mind ruining them, but what fun would hurting her be if she can't see what's coming.

Her fear before her impending punishment is equally part of the fun. Her eyes flutter from the constant banging of her head and she whimpers.

"You were made for this! Do you hear me?! The only reason the fucking Goddess gave you to me was for my entertainment! I should have been given an heir! An alpha, not a pathetic female bitch!" I shriek.

She's silent, and that only enrages me more. I shake her violently, seeing the bruises cover her unrecognisable body. Trying to hold back and not kill her is difficult, but I try. I mean, who will I torture tomorrow if she is dead? I don't think that stupid Indigo would survive. It's a shame, but she's pathetic and weak. Weaker than this pathetic thing!

I rip her body back, wrenching her hands with the screws off the table. The scream of agony that tears from her throat only fuels me further, and I throw her across the room before I pick up a hammer and turn towards her.

My heart thunders with excitement, rage and satisfaction as I approach her.

"You useless little bitch. I think I will tell your mother you have gone to a training camp for a few weeks. Don't you think that's a good idea?" I hiss, slamming the hammer down on her knees. The sickening sound of bones being crushed rings loudly in my ears. She sobs silently. Trying to stifle her cries and that angers me. Although I want her to obey, I want to hear the pain she's in.

But I do not stop. Even when she huddles into a foetal position, her eyes tight shut, I continue my screaming abuse.

"Let's just see how much you can take! Maybe you are better off dead!" With each strike of the hammer – to her ankles, her elbows, even her hands, the screws are pushed deeper into her skin – I grow happier.

Only her head is free from my hammer. I want her to stay conscious whilst I torture her.

Her tears have stopped, and I have grown bored with the hammer. I'm breathing hard. My hair falls forward and sweat coats my face. I hate how she seems to handle it, hate that the determination never fades from her disgusting green eyes.

"You're a fucking freak!" I spit. Looking around the room, a smile spreads across my face when I grab a knife, one I keep coated with wolfsbane. At least this takes her longer to heal from. I approach her, grab her wrist, and begin carving long, deep gashes down her arms and legs. Slamming my fist across her head. I slash her back several times before I throw the knife down. I can see her wounds already closing up.

I need to do something to cause her more pain! This isn't enough!

"You were hungry, weren't you?" I ask, now dragging her around to face me. I begin stroking her hair, which is now a more deep red, coated with her own blood. Her skin is littered with bruises, wounds, and blood. She is no longer recognisable. Her wide green eyes, which were once filled with fear, do not even blink when I stroke her hair.

"Let me go get you food," I whisper, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. Her lip quivers as I leave the room quickly to get something from the kitchen.

I return soon enough, unlocking the door and shutting it tight behind me when she looks up at me. I smile down at her, imagining the pain she will go through.

I wish I could hear her thoughts as I punish her.

Unlike me, who has my wolf and can see in the dark, she can't.

"Look, I got you some food, princess," I say. She looks up. I have a pot in my hand, and I see her trying to see it but failing. "Say thank you," I order as I glare at her, my eyes turning dark green once again.

"Th-thank you, Papa," she whispers. A cold smile crosses my lips.

"Here." I raise the jar and pour its contents onto her. She screams as the powdery substance makes contact with her. The strong smell of chilli flakes fills the air as she screams in agonising pain as she claws fruitlessly at her own wounds where the chilli flakes have embedded into the open gashes.

She hadn't expected that, her eyes wide with horror and pain as she writhes and screams in agony, scratching at her eyes and arms, trying to rid herself of the pain. I watch her helplessness, laughing.

Now that was incredibly fun.

"Sleep well, princess," I say icily before turning and walking out of the room, leaving the little eight-year-old crying and screaming as she convulses in pain on the cold hard floor.

I glare at the darkness around me. How had I missed such an obvious clue? Her healing ability was never normal.

If it were not for that witch who told me about my firstborn being special, that she is blessed by the Moon Goddess herself, I would not have even known she was still alive.

That whore Jessica had faked their deaths rather well. When I find her, I am going to tear her apart inch by fucking inch.

I take out my phone and dial a number, waiting for someone to answer.

"Why do you call? I told you I will call you only," the woman's voice comes.

"Tell me, what are the chances that a third bloodline still exists?" I ask.

There's a moment's silence. "What do you mean?"

"My daughter and her lover were here. His wolf is powerful. Elijah Westwood. That's his name. He was extremely fast too."

"Your daughter and her lover, are they mates?"

"No. And I marked her."

She's silent. "I helped you enough Malone. You couldn't even keep one woman in your control. Perhaps I was wrong to have faith in you," she spits.

I clench my jaw. The rage that fills me is intense, but this bitch knows dark magic and I'm no fool to piss her off.

Alpha, the alpha who helped them was Alpha Rafael Rossi, the boy alpha of the Black Storm Pack.

"I am doing my part, do yours, witch," I snarl and hang up as I glare ahead.

Rafael…

The thought that three kids might have outsmarted me only makes my blood boil.

I'll fucking destroy them all.