Nicholas’s POV

I hadn’t seen Irina in four agonising days.

Four days of absolute, suffocating hell. I hadn’t stepped foot inside my own bedroom. I hadn’t smelled her sweet vanilla scent. I hadn’t looked at my son. I completely locked myself inside the dark, heavy walls of my war room.

The western border was completely falling apart.

I stood rigidly over the massive mahogany table. The sprawling map was absolutely covered in harsh red markers. My chest heaved with heavy, exhausted breaths. My knuckles were completely white from gripping the edge of the wood so tightly.

"They hit another outpost at dawn," Roman reported coldly. The Royal Beta stood across from me. His face was a hard, unreadable mask. "No survivors. They slaughtered the entire patrol unit and completely vanished into the trees."

"They are incredibly organized, Alpha," Andrei added quietly from the corner. The Royal Gamma was methodically cleaning his gun. "This isn’t a random group of starving rogues. They move like a highly trained military unit. They know our patrol routes. They know our blind spots."

I didn’t say a single word.

I stared intensely down at the blurry photograph Roman had brought me days ago.

The carved crest in the tree bark. The jagged, rough lines.

My golden eyes violently burned. The lethal, raging beast inside my chest violently clawed at my ribs. I knew this symbol. I knew the aggressive, ruthless tactics these attackers were using. The psychological warfare. The brutal slaughter of the weakest guards to instill absolute terror.

It was an entirely familiar leadership style.

Too familiar.

I tightly closed my eyes. The heavy, dark walls of the war room violently melted away. The sharp scent of expensive whiskey and cold steel vanished.

Suddenly, my lungs forcefully filled with the suffocating stench of cheap gin, stale sweat, and metallic blood.

*Thump. Crash.*

The violent memories aggressively ripped through my mind.

I was just a kid again. I was trapped in my old pack house. My father, the former Alpha, was a complete monster. He ruled the entire territory with heavy, brutal fists. He didn’t lead with respect. He ruled with pure, unchecked terror.

"Nicholas! Get back here!"

His deafening, drunken roar violently echoed in my memory.

He beat me constantly. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was listening to my mother. She was a fragile, incredibly gentle Omega. She was completely trapped by the mate bond.

Every single night, I lay awake in my dark room. I heard the sickening sound of his heavy fists hitting her flesh. I heard her soft, broken whimpers. I saw the deep purple bruises completely covering her delicate neck. I smelled her sheer, agonizing terror.

It completely shattered my soul. It forged the dark, violent monster inside me.

Then came my eighteenth birthday.

The night my wolf finally fully awakened. The night the Moon Goddess gifted me my massive, terrifying strength.

I didn’t run. I didn’t hide in my room. I completely kicked his heavy office door off its hinges. I challenged him. I demanded the absolute Alpha title.

The memory hit me like a physical, brutal punch to the gut.

My father laughed. He shifted into his massive, scarred gray wolf. He lunged at me.

We violently tore the massive pack house apart. We shattered the heavy windows. We crushed the antique furniture into tiny splinters. Blood heavily soaked the expensive rugs. I was younger, faster, and completely fueled by eighteen years of pure, unfiltered rage. I had him pinned. I was ready to rip his fucking throat out.

"Stop! Please, no!"

My mother’s desperate scream violently pierced the chaotic air.

She threw her fragile, human body directly between us. She was completely sobbing. She didn’t want her mate dead. She didn’t want her son to become a killer.

I violently froze. I hesitated for one single, fatal second.

But my father didn’t.

He was completely consumed by pure, humiliated fury. He saw his own mate protecting the son who just defeated him.

He didn’t stop his massive jaws.

*Crunch.*

The sickening, horrific sound of breaking bone violently echoed in my skull. It still haunted my absolute worst nightmares.

He bit completely down on her delicate neck. He tore her throat out in one brutal, merciless strike.

Hot, dark blood aggressively sprayed completely across my face. It blinded me. It soaked my clothes. She collapsed instantly to the hardwood floor. She was completely dead before she even hit the ground.

My entire world violently shattered.

A deafening, completely unhinged roar ripped from my own throat. I completely lost my mind. The absolute, raw agony violently snapped my sanity into a million pieces.

I threw myself at him. I didn’t fight like a wolf. I fought like a complete demon. I violently shredded his chest. I ripped his flesh to the bone. I broke his massive legs.

But the coward managed to break free. He violently threw himself out of the shattered glass window. He plummeted into the raging, freezing river behind the pack house. The dark water violently swallowed him whole.

When the pack guards finally rushed into the bloody, destroyed room, the scene was completely horrifying.

They saw their beloved Luna dead on the floor. Her throat was entirely ripped open.

And they saw me.

I was standing directly over her broken body. I was completely covered in her blood. My massive hands were dripping with thick, dark red. My golden eyes were glowing wildly in the dark. I was violently trembling, trapped in pure, blinding shock.

They didn’t see my father.

They only saw a violent, feral monster.

The rumors violently ignited that very same night. They spread like a massive wildfire across the entire underworld.

*He slaughtered them both.*

*He violently murdered his own parents for the throne.*

*He is completely insane.*

The Mad King.

I never corrected them. I never bothered to explain the absolute truth. I was completely drowning in my own crushing guilt. I failed to protect her. The dark, terrifying rumors actually worked to my advantage. The sheer terror kept the other mafia families completely in line. No one dared to challenge a man who would supposedly slaughter his own mother.

I carried that dark, bloody title proudly. It was my armor. It was my heavy, suffocating cage.

"Nicholas?"

Roman’s sharp voice violently ripped me out of the nightmare.

I gasped heavily. I aggressively gripped the edge of the mahogany table. My entire body was vibrating with raw, unchecked adrenaline.

"Alpha?" Andrei stepped completely forward. His relaxed demeanor was entirely gone. "Are you alright? Your eyes..."

I violently ignored them.

I snatched the blurry photograph right off the heavy table.

My scarred fingers shook slightly. I stared entirely at the carved crest.

It wasn’t a random symbol. It wasn’t just a mark for a rogue pack.

I knew every single twisted, jagged curve of this design. I remembered staring at it when I was just a terrified kid. I remembered seeing it flex when a heavy fist violently crashed into my mother’s face.

It was a tattoo.

It was violently inked directly onto his heavy right forearm.

The deep, jagged scar I left across his chest didn’t kill him. The freezing river didn’t drown him. He didn’t die that night. He had spent all these years hiding in the absolute shadows. He had been quietly, methodically building a massive army of rogues and outcasts.

He wanted his throne back.

He wanted his revenge.

My heart violently stopped. A cold, absolute terror completely flooded my hot veins.

Irina.

She was incredibly fragile. She had absolutely no wolf. She couldn’t heal. And she was completely pregnant with my heir.

If he found out about her... If he got his bloody hands on my mate...

I slowly lowered the blurry photograph. The violent, possessive beast inside me let out a deafening, absolutely terrifying roar.

I looked up at Roman and Andrei.

"It’s him," I growled darkly. My voice was pure, lethal ice.

"Who?" Roman demanded quickly.

"My father," I whispered completely entirely hollowly.

He’s back.