Klaus' POV
The boy was barely conscious, but I was far from done with him. No one worked under me and betrayed me; they would be dead. I circled Orion's trembling form like a predator does its bleeding prey.
His face was a mosaic of bruises; purple and sick yellow, with a swollen eye that barely opened. Blood matted his hair where I had one of the guards slam his head into the iron wall. His shirt was gone, shredded to nothing from the whippings.
He was chained upright against the wall, his arms raised above his head, wrists red and raw from where the manacles were biting deep. The scent of his pain gladdened me. Fear, sweat, and blood.
My favorite kind of perfume. He was barely sixteen, and already he had learned the price of disloyalty in my pack. He gasped for breath, his ribs shifting with a rasp that suggested more than one was cracked.
His bare feet struggled to find balance on the uneven stone floor slick with his own blood and piss. I didn't feel sorry for him. I shouldn't feel anything but satisfaction. He had lied to me.
At first, the little bastard tried to play dumb. He said the key must have gone missing. That, maybe Penelope stole it without him knowing. As if a scared little thing like her could snatch the master key off a trained young wolf's belt without alerting him. He must think I'm a fool.
But I'm no fool. I have the nose of the Alphas. His lie reeked.
So I choked him. Just a little. Just enough to make the truth rattle out of him like coins from a broken pouch. He croaked out the truth, of course. Said she begged. Said he felt sorry for her.
Pitiful.
I've kept him here since yesterday. Without food or water. Just pain. And exerting pain to the disloyal ones is my favorite kind of game to play.
I stepped closer and trailed the edge of my claw along his chest. Slowly, and hauntingly. Just enough pressure to slice the skin and make him scream. The kind of pain that crawls under the skin and leaves a mark on the mind. I want it to last.
"Did she kiss you to thank you?" I murmured, venom curling around my words. "Whisper sweet lies in your ear?"
"N-no…" he croaked with his cracked lips. "I j-just felt b-bad…"
I backhanded him. His body jerked with the force of it, and the chains groaned. His head lolled to the side. "Bloody Liar," I hissed. I reached for the blade I had left on the side table. It was silver-tipped, but it was not enough to poison, only enough to burn. I dragged it lightly along his ribs, watching the flesh redden and hiss. He screamed, and the sound bounced off the curved ceiling of the dungeon chamber.
Just as I lifted the blade to deliver a final stroke and end his life, a guard's footsteps echoed outside. I snarled in frustration as he stopped at the threshold of the chamber, not daring to step in without invitation. "What?" I snapped.
"Forgive me, Alpha," the guard replied. "Lord Kareem sent for you. There's a meeting."
I exhaled slowly, sheathing the knife with a clink. I grabbed Orion by the chin, forcing his bloodied gaze to mine. "I'm not finished," I growled into his face. "You don't die until I say so."
I dropped his head. It flopped forward like a broken doll. "Bleed for me until I return," I commanded. Then I walked out, my boots echoing over the polished stone floors as I ascended from the dungeon's stench into the cold, luxurious corridors of the Aurum Mansion.
Our castle was silent, regal, every inch soaked in wealth and legacy. High vaulted ceilings, heavily designed chandeliers, and polished marble floors gleamed beneath my feet. Portraits of dead Alphas stared down at me with eyes that had judged centuries. When I entered my father's war room, I found him standing beside the long obsidian table, his palms braced over the maps and parchments. Other pack leaders sat around, some older, some my age, all bound by the weight of blood oaths and old secrets.
My father's piercing gaze darted to look at me as I stepped in, my usual regal manner like I owned the world. He had taught me to carry myself that way. I could see the smirk on his face as I approached. Others also looked my way and gave me my regards. As it should be.
"Our heir is here, welcome," Charlotte, the Luna of the Golden Realm pack, acknowledged me. She was in her mid-forties, and I had fucked her before. I was only twenty-five, almost half her age. From the look she gave me then, she wanted it again. Delusional.
"I've finally decided to have the hunters killed," Lord Kareem said without preamble. "I've kept them long enough, and it's high time we need them. They're in Cell Delta." He informed, and others cheered happily. They hated hunters. We all werewolves did. The hunters were relentless when it came to ending our kind. They were delusional, thinking they could succeed. They depended on guns, blades, and other harmful objects to fight. We depended on power, skills, and we were much more sensitive than them. They were fools.
My father looked my way. "Klaus, I want you to be in charge of monitoring the kill. They must kill them all."
"That's simple," I replied, my voice cold and final. "I will see to that as soon as the meeting ends."
He smirked. "I thought you'd say that."
But even as I sat and gave him my attention, something shifted inside me. I could feel her unsettledness. She was restless, she was... not in her room? She was moving. Her thoughts were stirred, panicked, determined, heated with fear. I could feel it all. That's why I bonded to me.
What was Penelope up to? The bond surged in my chest, tightly and intrusively. My breath stuttered as her emotions hit me like a splash of cold water. That stubborn little wolf was planning something. Again. And I was about to find out exactly what.