MATED TO FATHER, FATED TO SONS-Chapter 19: SOULLESS

RYKER

Growing up, I was always told that I had my father’s attitude.

I took it as a privilege, a good thing, to be my father’s son heart and soul. Rowan was more like my mother, a peacemaker.

But getting older, I take it as an insult of the highest order to be likened to this demon seated before me.

I knew I was a prick, not a soulless one. Alpha Corvin has no soul, he had lost it a long time ago in place of power.

"Sit down, Ryker." He commanded, his voice still carrying the hoarse edge of rage from earlier, like embers that hadn’t quite died out.

Without uttering a word, I sat down opposite him. I needed to look him eye to eye when he reprimanded me, to let him know that I wasn’t scared of him or his power.

I glared at him, placing my hands on the table with my fists curled into balls. It was a power move he had taught Rowan and I, one to show your opponent that you were ready to strike back.

If you kept your hands down it showed weakness, that you were relaxed. He glanced at my hands on the table and let out a half chuckle, placing his own hands flat against the surface, fingers spread wide and deliberate.

That was another power move. To show I was beneath him.

"I can see you have your mouth and bruises stitched up," he spoke, his eyes holding mine without blinking.

I didn’t flinch. "Yes," I simply replied, my expression deadpan.

"Uhmmm." He exhaled slowly, like he was measuring out his patience before spending it. "That stunt you pulled today at the garden should never repeat itself again."

"It would, if you decide to punish innocent women like that just so you can exert your dominance."

His brows furrowed, a muscle ticking along his jaw. "She is to be mated to me and she defied me. I needed to teach her discipline. But I owe you no explanation."

"No, you don’t, and I owe you no compliance." I retorted.

"Why do you even care?" He asked, his fist curling back into a ball, the flatness gone. I knew I was already pushing his buttons, testing the edges of his patience. "You were also the one who verbally insulted her to by, or are you just doing it to go against me?"

Why do I even care?

The question echoed back in my head. I had seen him punish people before. Since my mom died, he had done it ever so often, like something in him had been uncaged the moment she took her last breath.

It was like her death exposed his cruel and wicked side. She had been the only restraint he had, even publicly. Her death just made it plain for everyone to see. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

But that still didn’t answer why I cared. I could ponder about that later. For now, I needed to show no emotion, no sign of weakness.

"What do you think, old man?" It wasn’t a question, even though it sounded like one. "I did it to go against you, because I don’t stand for what you stand for."

"Ryker." He exhaled, leaning forward slightly, elbows pressing into the table. "I have put up with your excesses, your insolent behavior. Cleaned up your mess publicly. I am still the one stopping your enemies from marching in here and trampling you."

"Do you need a best dad medal for that?" I cut him off and he glared at me, something cold and sharp moving behind his eyes.

"I see there is no reasoning with you." He didn’t sound defeated. If anything, he sounded like his resolve had just hardened.

"The only reasoning there would be is when you admit what you did."

"What did I do?"

My fists curled tighter, almost drawing blood from how hard I clenched them. "You killed her," I snarled at him.

Then came the silence that always followed any discussion about her. We stared at each other, dead in the eyes, neither of us moving.

I could see it happening, the slow burn in his gaze, his irises shifting toward gold like something primal in him was stirring, threatening to rise to the surface. Then, almost like a switch had been flipped, he exhaled. Long and controlled. He uncurled his fists and leaned back into his chair, reclaiming his composure like it was something he could just pick back up off the floor.

"One day you will understand," his voice was lower now, stripped of its usual authority.

"Understand what exactly?"

"Why I had to do what I did," he said softly.

"I will never understand." I leaned in. "I will never forgive you for what you did because of your..."

"It was never because of Freya." He cut through me mid-sentence.

Freya.

That name. I had detested it, abhorred it, loathed it with every fiber of something I didn’t even know I still had.

It sat in my chest like a splinter that had never been properly removed, working its way deeper every time someone said it out loud.

My father had changed the day she entered their lives and I had watched it happen in real time, slow enough to be maddening, fast enough to be irreversible.

I shrugged the thought away before it could sink its teeth further into me.

"Is there a reason for this meeting," I said, my voice flat, "or did you just want to gloat about my defiance? Because you already beat the crap out of me today. I would think that was enough satisfaction for one evening."

He studied me for a long moment, fingers tapping once against the mahogany before going still.

"Since you have decided that responsibility is beneath you and that acting like a tyrant is the hill you want to die on," he began, his tone shifting into the voice he used when he had already made a decision and was simply informing you of it.

"I will be removing every property from your name. Everything. Including what your mother left for you."

The words landed differently than I expected. Not like a slap, more like a slow puncture, the kind you don’t feel until the air is already gone.

"You can’t do that," I said.

"I can." He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. "I will, until you show me that you are capable of being what this pack needs. Settle down, get married and be what your brother is becoming."

"So that’s what this is about." I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Rowan."

"It is about legacy," he corrected, his eyes never leaving mine. "Which is why Amaris is here. Should you or your brother ever decide to throw away everything I have built, I will have my replacement ready. An heir that I can mold without the complications of a son who resents me."

I stared at him.

"So she is just here to build you a spare." I said it slowly, letting each word sit in the air between us.

He was quiet for a beat. His chin lifted slightly. "Yes. She will be rewarded and returned to her pack when it is done."

I held his gaze for a long moment. Long enough that the silence became its own kind of answer.

"You are a barbarian," I said, rising from my chair. My voice was calm. Steady. The kind of calm that had nothing to do with peace and everything to do with a decision already being made somewhere deep and quiet inside me. "You will not control my life. Not this one."

I didn’t wait for his response.

I turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind me without slamming it, because slamming it would have given him something. A reaction. Proof that he had gotten under my skin.

I wouldn’t give him that.

I walked it slowly with my hands loose at my sides.

He wanted to strip everything from me. The properties, the name, the leverage. He wanted to reduce me to nothing so he could rebuild me into something obedient and useful.

He had just shown me exactly how far he was willing to go.

I exhaled through my nose.

He was pushing his hand, which meant I had to hasten mine. The plan that had been sitting in the back of my mind, patient and waiting, needed to move faster now.

Because by the end of the year, I would have had my father buried six feet below.