Chapter 195: The Call
Oliver’s POV
It had been four days since the raid at the border. Four days since I dragged Alex back from the mountain pass in chains, his body broken and his forces completely destroyed. My own wounds still burned like fire under the tight white linens wrapped around my chest, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold weight settling deep inside my bones.
Tomorrow was the execution.
There would be no trial. There would be no mercy. Alex had crossed every line a wolf could draw. He had attacked me, conspired with our enemies, and worst of all, he had hunted my pregnant mate. A man like that could not be allowed to draw another breath. He was a cancer to the region, a dark shadow hanging over the innocent people under my care, and a constant, deadly threat to the family I was building with Aurora. He had to die.
The fact that he shared my blood, that he was my first cousin, changed absolutely nothing. If anything, it made his crimes a deeper stain on our family name.
Sitting at the heavy mahogany desk in the corner of the room, I stared down at my satellite phone. My fingers hovered over the keys, a rare knot of hesitation twisting in my gut. I needed to make one final call before the black block was set up in the courtyard tomorrow. I needed to call my uncle—Lycan Peter—who was not only Alex’s father but also my own godfather.
Peter had already done what any honorable Alpha would do. Years ago, after Alex’s first major betrayal, Peter had publicly stripped him of his title, disowned him from the family bloodline, and named Alex’s younger half-brother, Dalton, as the sole successor to their pack. But as I picked up the receiver and dialed the private line, I remained skeptical. A father was still a father. Blood was a heavy thing, and part of me worried that beneath the strict Alpha exterior, Peter would beg me to spare his firstborn son’s life. I prayed he wouldn’t. I did not want to deny a request from my godfather, but my mind was completely made up. Alex’s head would roll tomorrow, regardless of who begged for him.
The phone rang twice before a deep, gravelly voice echoed through the line.
"Oliver," my uncle greeted, his tone steady but carrying the heavy weight of a man who had seen too much war. "How are you doing, son? The scouts told me you took some severe injuries at the border."
"I am getting better, Uncle," I replied, my voice rough as I leaned back slightly in my chair, careful not to pull the fresh stitches in my side. "My wolf is healing. The doctors are keeping a close eye on me."
There was a brief, loaded silence on the other end. Peter knew exactly what had happened four days ago. He knew his rogue son had been caught, and he knew Alex was currently rotting in the deepest, darkest cell of my palace dungeons. But he hadn’t asked about him yet. He was waiting for me to set the terms.
I cleared my throat. "Father Peter," I said, using the formal title of respect for my godfather. "I want to talk to you about what happens next."
"Go on, son," Peter said quietly.
"I have decided to behead Alex tomorrow morning," I stated clearly, leaving no room for negotiation or debate. I wanted the words out in the open before my resolve could be questioned. "I cannot let him live, Father. He is too unstable, too dangerous to the packs. I am sorry."
I held my breath, bracing for the inevitable sigh of a grieving parent, the heavy pause of a father realizing his child’s time was up.
But the hesitation never came. My godfather did not hesitate for even a single second.
"This is what you should have done a long time ago, son," Peter’s voice boomed across the line, completely firm and devoid of any fatherly sorrow. "A man like Alex shouldn’t live. Not after what he did, and especially not now when you are starting your own family. He is a rabid dog, Oliver. You do not negotiate with a rabid dog; you put it down before it bites someone else."
A massive, invisible weight lifted off my chest, and I let out a long sigh of genuine relief. "Thank you, Uncle. I wanted to ensure you heard it directly from me."
"Cut off his head," Peter commanded, his voice cold and final. "And do not send his body back to our lands. Burn it. He ceased to be a part of this pack a long time ago. He was never my son. I have just two sons now—you and Dalton."
"Understood," I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. "Take care of yourself, Uncle. I will call you when it is done."
"Keep your woman safe, Oliver. Blood and honor."
"Blood and honor," I repeated before pressing the button to end the call.
I set the phone back on the desk, the silence of the room returning. I leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees and rubbing my face with both hands.
The soft click of the bathroom door opening broke the quiet. I lifted my head as Aurora walked out into the bedroom. She had just finished washing her face; her hair was slightly damp around the edges, and her pale skin looked soft under the morning light. But her expression was completely solemn. The bedroom wasn’t large enough to hide a phone conversation, and from the tight line of her jaw, it was obvious she had heard every word I just said to my uncle.
She stopped a few feet away from the desk, her fingers curling over the soft fabric of her oversized sweater. She looked down at me with those deep eyes that always seemed to read right through my armor.
"Can I see him?" she asked softly.
The question caught me off guard. I straightened up in my chair, my brow furrowing instantly. "Aurora..."
"I want to see him, Oliver," she pressed, her voice remarkably steady, though I could see the slight tremor in her hands. "I want to look into the eyes of the man who murdered my family. I need to see him before he dies tomorrow."
I stared at her for a long moment, my protective instincts instantly flaring up. The dungeons were cold, damp, and smelled of old blood and dirt. It was no place for a pregnant female, let alone my woman, who had already suffered so much trauma at the hands of the very man locked in the cells below. I wanted to tell her no. I wanted to lock her away in this room where nothing could ever touch her again.
But as I looked at the fierce, unbroken determination in her gaze, I knew I couldn’t deny her this. Alex had stolen everything from her past. If she needed to face the monster to finally close that Chapter of her life, I had to let her. I wasn’t going to play the tyrant with her.
I slowly stood up from the desk, wincing slightly as my chest tightened under the linen wraps. I walked over to her, wrapping my large, warm hand around hers, squeezing her fingers gently.
"Alright," I murmured, leaning down to press a soft kiss against her forehead. "I won’t say no to you. If you want to see him, we will go together. But you stay close to me, Aurora. Always."
She nodded quietly, leaning into my chest for a brief second to catch her breath. "Thank you. Let’s go."
I kept my hand locked tightly around Aurora’s as we walked out of our bedroom and headed toward the lower levels of the palace. The bright, warm hallways of the upper floors slowly gave way to cold stone walls and dim torchlight as we moved deeper underground. The air grew thick and heavy, smelling of damp earth and old rust.
Two large guards stood at the entrance of the dungeon doors. The moment they saw me coming, they stood up straight and quickly bowed their heads.
"Alpha," they said together.
"Open it," I ordered, my voice echoing off the bare stone.
They pulled open the heavy iron doors, the metal scraping loudly against the floor. I looked down at Aurora, checking her face. She was pale, and her small hand was squeezing mine, but her eyes were steady. She didn’t shrink back.
We walked down the winding stairs into the dark. The only sound was the thud of my heavy boots and the light slap of her shoes against the steps. Finally, we reached the deepest cell at the very end of the hall. This cell was specially made for dangerous shifters. The bars were thick iron mixed with silver, glowing with a faint, deadly light to keep a wolf weak and quiet.
Inside the cell, sitting on the dirty stone floor, was Alex.
He looked terrible. His clothes were torn and covered in dried mud and his own blood from our fight four days ago. His hands were tied in heavy silver chains attached to the wall. He had his head leaned back against the stone, his eyes closed, but the moment the heavy cell door made a sound, his head snapped up.
A cruel, twisted smile broke across his bruised face when he saw me. But then, his eyes shifted over to Aurora, and his smile grew wider, his dark eyes shining with pure hatred.
"Well, well," Alex said in a scratchy voice, his throat rough and dry. He coughed, the silver chains rattling loudly as he tried to move. "The great Alpha King and his little broken bird. Come to see."
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