"In chaos, we find opportunities."
{ROXANNE'S POV}
My gaze locked onto him, refusing to look away from his imperious presence. Blood trickled from his lips, staining the collar of his pristine white shirt and marring his shoulder‑length hair, once white but now streaked with crimson. His black fedora remained rakishly tilted, a final touch of nonchalance on an otherwise brutal tableau. Why had Michael changed so drastically? He had been calm, quiet—almost gentle. This was a shocking departure from the man I once knew. Spreading his arms wide, the blood‑red heart still clenched in his palm, he let a cruel smile unfurl across his face. "A predator never leaves its prey alive."
He had grown stronger—that much is undeniable. With his newfound strength had come madness, I suppose. His eyes were as black as the night sky above us, and I found myself certain of only one thing: this man is a demon. But that revelation mattered little to me. I remained focused on finding a way out, searching for any opening I can exploit. Yet some of my father's attention still lingered on me, forcing me to bid my time until he confronted Michael in battle.
I had dared to hope my father would confront Michael directly—only for Seth's voice to cut through the tension, declaring that Michael's severed head would serve as part of my dowry. Despondency coiled in my gut—why must he sabotage my every scheme? I took a few cautious steps backward, desperate to find any opening to slip away, but my father's raised hand froze me in my tracks. At his signal, three werewolves—a Beta flanked by two snarling Omegas—emerged, their eyes fixed on me, ready to ensure I remained exactly where I was.
I had no choice but to come to a halt. The werewolves had encircled me, their snarling ranks sealing off every escape route. Only if Michael's madness deepened—driving the whole pack to turn on him—might their formation crumble. That was my only hope, for in the ensuing chaos I just might find an opening to flee.
Seth bolted toward Michael, half‑transforming in mid‑stride—claws extending, fangs bared. At just the right range, he swung a savage punch, but Michael slipped aside with uncanny ease and retaliated with a lightning‑swift swipe across Seth's chest. Seth staggered back, recoiling from the impact, then sprang forward like a hunting cheetah. He engulfed Michael in a crushing embrace and drove him to the ground. No sooner had Michael hit the dirt than a living shadow streaked up behind Seth—a black blur. It was Michael again, his speed so impossible to comprehend.
Seth executed a forward roll, narrowly evading Michael's kick from behind. He sprang up and charged again, but Michael's grip tightened around him—then lifted and slammed him onto the ground. As Michael raised his fist to strike, Seth rolled clear, dodging the blow. No sooner had Michael pressed forward than Alpha Lucien joined the fray, diving in from behind with claws outstretched—one more push and his talons would have pierced Michael's chest.
He seemed to sense the attack before it came—sidestepping smoothly to the left so that Lucien's strike missed its mark and left him exposed. Without looking, Michael drove a savage kick into Lucien's left thigh. The force of it tore a strangled cry from Lucien's lips as he buckled to one knee, clutching his leg. Michael pivoted, his coal‑black eyes boring into Lucien. In that breathless instant, we all understood: Michael was unstoppable.
Lucien yanked his leg from its socket and lunged at Michael as he closed in. At the same moment, Seth sprang in from behind, and Liam—Lucien's Prime Beta—threw himself into the fray, a new variable in the deadly equation. Lucien's punch was met with resistance, so he drove a brutal knee into Michael's abdomen. Michael grunted and staggered, just as Seth's claws raked across his back, shredding his white shirt and gouging a deep wound. Liam followed with a vicious slash to Michael's right thigh, forcing him to one knee. The trio raked him relentlessly—until, in an almost supernatural blur, Michael shattered their circle and dropped back out of reach.
His body was riddled with wounds that were already knitting into pale scars. His shirt hung in tatters, and even his black suit trousers had lost their pristine elegance. He tore away the shredded remnants of his shirt, baring his sculpted torso. Despite the danger, I couldn't help but notice the definition of his muscles and the hard planes of his abs. Then, addressing my father, he spoke with quiet intensity: "I'm already approaching my limits. I think we'll stop here for today."
My father smiled, his voice laced with a mocking undertone. "Do you really think you can waltz in and out of my pack as you please?"
"I only came here to have a little fun and test the limits of my abilities," Michael said coolly, his gaze flicking to Lucien and Seth. "But it seems Alphas aren't much of a challenge." He paused, his voice steady. "I'm tired now. It's time for me to leave. And no one can stop me." His eyes returned to my father, unwavering.
"You're not leaving here—at least not alive," Seth growled, his voice cutting through the air as he dropped into a battle stance, poised to strike.
"I could've killed you earlier," Michael replied, his tone edged with mocking amusement. "But I spared you—I came here to test the extent of my abilities, not to kill."
"But what about the ones you killed earlier?" Seth shot back, rolling his eyes in disbelief at Michael's claim.
"Oh, did I kill someone? Ah! I must've forgotten—must've had a brain spasm," Michael said, his tone darkening with twisted amusement. "Honestly, I should've killed them more brutally. They were quite the nuisance." His eyes drifted to the fallen werewolves, a sinister glint flickering in his gaze.
The statement pissed everyone off—even I was furious. Regardless of the pack's attitude toward me, they were still family. I hated that he was killing them. If I had the strength, I would've taken him out myself. I never hated him before, but now, I was starting to.
As if sensing the fury rising within me, my father spoke with eerie calm, his deep voice cutting through the tension. "Lucien, Seth, Liam, Malachi—attack this lunatic now. The rest of you, make sure Roxanne doesn't escape." And with that, he launched himself at Michael.
Three Alphas. Two Prime Betas. A part of me genuinely hoped they might succeed in killing Michael. I attempted to slip away, but too many eyes were trained on me, blocking every possible escape route. And then—almost as if he sensed my thoughts—Michael vanished from his spot in a blur of motion, leaving the five attackers striking nothing but empty air.
In that instant, a blur materialized behind me—and before I could react, a hand pierced into my chest from behind. Pain exploded through me, stealing the air from my lungs. My mouth opened in a scream. One yank, and my heart would be torn out. I didn't need to look—I knew it was Michael. My eyes rolled uncontrollably, the agony too much to bear, and I gasped for breath, each one more desperate than the last.
"Roxanne!" My father and mother screamed in unison, their fear for me unmistakable.
"Leave her alone, you bastard!" My mother cried, her voice raw with panic.
"Don't!" my father roared, his command echoing through the chaos.
The villain chuckled darkly, his voice dripping with menace. "You don't command me anymore, Augustus. I'm an Alpha now—just like you. In fact, I'm stronger than you. You can't defeat me. Forget the color of my eyes; I'm an Alpha."
"Please, don't do this, Michael." Despite my weakening state, I could hear my mother's voice tremble with panic. I knew she was on the verge of tears.
"It's simple," Michael declared, his voice dripping with menace. "I will spare her on one condition, everyone must kneel before me. Right now. Everyone."
His words rang out, sharp and commanding, followed by a chilling laugh that echoed through the enviroment. The sound was like a blade scraping against bone, sending a shiver down my spine.
I couldn't suppress the tremor that coursed through me. Alphas were embodiments of pride and strength. Even my father, a figure of unwavering dignity, would be forced to kneel—a blow to his honor. And Seth's family? I couldn't fathom them submitting so easily.
My father's response was immediate, his pride as an Alpha set aside without hesitation. "We will," he said, his voice steady despite the weight of his decision. "Please, don't kill her."
Without another word, he slowly sank to one knee, bowing his head in submission. One by one, my mother followed suit, then the others, until the room was filled with kneeling figures. All but Lucien's pack. They stood tall and unyielding, a silent testament to their unwavering pride.
He twisted my heart, and the sickening sound echoed in my ears. A scream tore from my throat, raw and desperate. The agony was unbearable; I longed for the sweet release of death.
"If they don't kneel, I'll kill her," Michael growled, his voice laced with venom. "By the time I count to three, if they haven't bent their knees, I'll kill Roxanne."
My father bared his fangs at Lucien, his voice a growl of desperation. "Kneel. Do you want my daughter to die? If he kills her, I'll wage war against your pack. Kneel!"
"One!" Michael's voice echoed, yet they remained standing.
"Two!" Still, they refused to kneel, defying my father's threat.
Just as Michael inhaled to utter "Three," my father surged forward with desperate speed. Caught off guard, Lydia and Lucien could only watch as his hand closed around their daughter's neck.
Perhaps startled by my father's audacious move, Michael halted his count, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.
"Will you kneel or not?" My father tightened his grip on Martha's neck, eliciting a strangled cry.
Suddenly, despite my fading consciousness, I saw Lucien's hand wrap around my mother's neck. In response to my father's threat, he had made his move.
"Spare her, and I'll spare your wife," he said, his tone laced with menace.
At that moment, every wolf of the Ashwood Pack rose to their feet, baring their fangs at Lucien's pack. They inched closer to the present members of Lucien's pack—Lucien, Seth, Martha, Lydia, Liam, and an unknown werewolf.
"Are you all forgetting something?" Michael's voice cut through the tension, laced with mockery. "You're supposed to be kneeling. What's with all this drama? Why is everyone acting insane? Let's try to be civil."
His tone was comically light, as if he were delivering a joke—one that no one found amusing.
"Kneel. We don't have to do this," my father shouted at Lucien.
"I won't kneel," Lucien retorted defiantly.
"Enough!" Michael's voice thundered, ancient and terrifying. The sheer force of it made my knees buckle; I wasn't alone—others felt it too. An inexplicable urge to kneel washed over me.
Silence fell. All eyes turned to Michael as he spoke.
He looked at my father. "I won't kill her."
Then, turning to Lucien, he continued, "I will visit your pack one day. When I do, I'll take a life—your son, your daughter, or your wife. Since you refused to kneel, I'll punish you."
Without warning, he withdrew his hand from my chest and delivered a precise chop to my neck. Darkness enveloped me, and I lost consciousness.