"The world of reality has its limits, the world of imagination is boundless."
{MICHAEL'S POV}
I walked slowly into Ashwood Pack territory. It had been days since I last saw the familiar landscape. Once, they were my family—but not anymore.
I admit, killing Kyle must have enraged them. But it was a mistake. He was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. That's why I left. I knew I couldn't keep fighting the madness inside me.
Still, they sent five werewolves to hunt me down.
I don't even know why I came back. But one thing is clear: the madness brought me here.
And after all these days, I've come to a final conclusion— I can't resist the madness anymore.
I had my doubts. This madness made me strong—unbelievably so—but could I really take on all these werewolves alone?
I'd tried countless times to bottle the rage, to suppress the storm within me, but it was no use. The voices in my head were louder than ever, gnawing at the edges of my sanity.
They filled me with power, yes—but also pain.
It was the madness that brought me here, ignoring my every attempt to resist. Even my body betrayed me. I wasn't in control anymore.
Countless eyes were locked onto me, each burning with a different emotion—fury, hatred, wariness.
But one pair stood out.
They belonged to a man who had once cared for me like a son. During my childhood, he'd looked after me, and I had truly appreciated everything he did. He was there the day I killed Kyle. He saw it happen—but he didn't chase me. Instead, he gave me a chance to escape, even before the hunting party was sent after me.
He was a fair man.
He was Augustus.
Once, his eyes had been filled with tenderness when he looked at me.
Now, they blazed with rage.
I also spotted Anna and Roxanne—Augustus's wife and daughter. But something about the scene felt off.
Anna stood beside Augustus, calm and composed. But Roxanne was at the center of attention, surrounded by everyone. I couldn't help but wonder why—until I saw him.
Seth.
A man born an Alpha, standing proudly with his family. That's when it clicked. The marriage.
It had to be the union Roxanne had always tried to avoid. And judging by the tension in her eyes, she still didn't want it. I couldn't blame her. Seth was a pervert, after all.
But that wasn't my concern.
The madness didn't care about arranged marriages or broken hearts.
It only wanted one thing—chaos.
One by one, werewolves broke away from the circle around Roxanne and began to close in on me. They snarled as they moved, low and threatening. Even Nathaniel—Roxanne's best friend—joined the crowd, his eyes dark with betrayal.
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Martha—Seth's sister. A woman who had offered herself to me more times than I cared to count, though I always turned her down.
She was staring at me again.
Her eyes still held that same look compassion, maybe. Or was it lust?
No—definitely lust.
I kept walking toward the center of the vortex—the heart of it all—where the high-profile werewolves stood: Augustus's family and Seth's.
Everyone was in a battle stance, ready to end me.
A smile crept onto my face. I wasn't sure if it was mine or the madness pulling at my lips.
"This will be your last day on Earth," Augustus's voice rang out—familiar, but cold. "Tell me, why are you here? Are you tired of living, boy?"
There was no concern in his tone. No worry.
Just pure indifference.
"Earth isn't yours," I said, my raspy voice cutting through the tension. "You don't get to decide for everyone. You can only decide for a minority, which I'm not part of."
Augustus—and the rest—focused their attention on my eyes. I had seen my reflection after the battle on Basho Bridge; my eyes were now deep black, making me an oddity among my kind. Some were curious, others fearful of the unknown.
"You're not one of us anymore. You're a monster. Look at those eyes—they're black. What exactly are you now?"
Seth's voice cut through the silence, taunting and goading me, not waiting for Augustus to reply.
I dismissed Seth entirely, my focus unwaveringly fixed on Augustus. Among all present—including Seth and his father—Augustus posed the greatest threat. I had never faced an Alpha in this state of madness, leaving the outcome uncertain. To complicate matters, there were three Alphas here.
Augustus raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Interesting. You've changed a lot." He glanced at Roxanne, her eyes blazing with fury, before returning his gaze to me. "No matter. We have a ceremony to finish."
He turned to the assembled werewolves. "Bring me his head," he bellowed.
"Wait!" Lucien barked, halting the werewolves poised to attack.
Augustus frowned deeply, his fiery gaze questioning Lucien's interruption.
Lucien quickly responded, "I think we should capture him. His black eyes make him an oddity among our kind. He should be sent to the Prime Alpha."
I couldn't help but smile. The Prime Alpha, also known as the Wolf King, was a fearsome figure among our kind. Renowned for his experiments, he considered himself the guardian of werewolves. He would undoubtedly appreciate the opportunity to study me and reward whoever delivered me to him.
Without hesitation, Augustus replied, "My pack, my rules."
I knew him too well. Despite his stern demeanor, he still harbored some pity for me. He didn't want me to suffer through the Prime Alpha's experiments and preferred to grant me a swift death. What a fair man he was.
Lucien's expression was tinged with disappointment, yet his eyes remained fixed on me—perhaps eager to witness the madness I was infamous for.
Suddenly, six werewolves lunged at me—two Betas and four Omegas. They half-transformed mid-air: eyes glowing, claws extending, fangs bared. Some targeted my heart, others my head, attacking from all directions.
To them, it was a coordinated assault; to me, their movements were sluggish, almost snail-like. As one aimed for my chest, I seized his collar before his claws could reach me. Gripping his outstretched arm, I yanked it with such force that it tore clean off. He screamed, his blood splattering my already stained white shirt.
I let the severed limb fall and delivered a powerful kick to his chest, sending him tumbling away.
Another came a second later, aiming a blow at my chin. I stepped back and willed my claws to jut out, slashing them across his neck. The cut was swift, clean—his head hit the ground with a wet thud as blood sprayed in all directions.
One was behind me, his claws nearly grazing my back. I dropped low, spinning into a sweeping kick that took out his legs. As he hit the ground, I mounted him, sinking my fangs into his windpipe. His scream was cut short by the crunch of cartilage and the gush of blood that followed.
In the chaos, another managed to rake his claws across my back, shredding my shirt and tearing into my flesh. But the gasps weren't from the pain—it was from the crowd, watching in horror as my skin stitched itself back together in seconds.
That regeneration, it must've terrified them.
I lunged at the one who had clawed me, slashing upward. Caught off guard, he didn't stand a chance. His head rolled clean from his shoulders, landing near Augustus's feet.
Of the six, one was injured, three lay dead, and only two remained. I met their eyes—fear unmistakable. The Betas were among the fallen; these two were Omegas.
I bolted forward. As they braced, expecting me to charge them, I was already upon the one-armed werewolf. My movement a blur, I drove my claws into his chest. His high-pitched scream pierced the air as I tore out his heart. His body crumpled to the ground.
Holding his bloody heart aloft, I turned to the onlookers, their faces a tapestry of horror and awe.
"A predator doesn't leave its prey alive," I declared.
The two remaining werewolves hesitated, their bodies tense with the urge to attack, yet their eyes betrayed their fear. Slowly, they retreated, creating distance between us, effectively ceding the battleground to stronger contenders. A wise decision on their part; they weren't worth my attention.
Augustus met my gaze, his eyes reflecting a mix of calculation and concern. He seemed to be assessing my strength, perhaps contemplating summoning the Betas for a coordinated assault or confronting me himself.
Before he could act, a voice rang out—Seth's. "Let me use his head as part of the dowry for my wife."
I finally fixed my gaze on him. Bare-chested, his sculpted muscles gleamed under the light. His black suit trousers were impeccably tailored, though his shoes lacked the elegance of mine. He advanced with a majestic stride, exuding the confidence of a man in command. His eyes burned red, and his gait was reminiscent of a prowling tiger. Just meters away, he suddenly lunged forward, his form blurring as he surged toward me, surpassing the speed of a bullet.