A Dangerous Obsession
Chapter 80 - 79

Chapter 80: Chapter 79

ALPHA ELAXDOR DOWNHILL

The sun had barely risen, but my mind was barely at ease. As Alpha of a pack, mornings brought little respite—endless tasks, decisions that could alter the fate of my people, and the persistent tug of politics. Yet, today, an unwelcome visitor had added himself to my already full plate: Alpha Alaric.

I sat in my office, watching the servants scurry outside as they prepared for his arrival. The younger generation seemed impressed by his reputation—his strength, his dominance—but I saw the flaws beneath the façade. Strength without wisdom was a liability, and Alaric, for all his might, was still young and reckless.

A knock at the door disrupted my thoughts. "Enter," I called gruffly.

One of my attendants stepped inside, bowing low. "Alpha Alaric has arrived and awaits your audience in the main hall."

I gave a curt nod, rising from my chair. "Prepare some tea," I said as I brushed past him. "This conversation will require more patience than I have."

Walking to the hall, I was already forming a plan. Alaric was here for a reason—an apology, most likely, judging by his previous behavior. Apologies from Alphas were rare, especially ones like him, but it wasn’t unheard of if they believed they had overstepped.

As I stepped into the hall, I found him standing near the window, his broad frame stiff and formal. His gaze turned to me, and for a fleeting moment, I caught something unusual in his expression. Fear, perhaps?

"Alpha Elaxdor," he greeted, inclining his head slightly.

"Alaric," I replied, not bothering to return the gesture. I walked past him to the head of the room and gestured for him to sit.

He hesitated but eventually obeyed, lowering himself into the chair opposite me.

"I won’t waste your time," he began, his voice firm but lacking its usual arrogance. "I came to apologize for my actions toward your daughter."

I arched a brow, leaning back in my chair. "Is that so?"

"She challenged me," he said, his tone almost defensive. "But I shouldn’t have responded the way I did. It was uncalled for."

His words were measured, calculated. Apologies rarely came without ulterior motives, and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe his visit was purely about regret.

"And what do you expect from this apology?" I asked bluntly.

He blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Expect?"

"Yes, Alaric," I said, my tone sharp. "Do you believe that an apology will mend your reckless behavior or erase the impression you’ve left on my pack? Or do you imagine that it will secure this alliance you seem to now desperately seek?"

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t break eye contact. "I want to assure you that my intentions remain honorable. Despite my lapse in judgment, I value the strength your pack brings, and I believe this alliance could benefit us both."

I frowned, tapping my fingers against the armrest of my chair. "An alliance is built on trust, not desperation. You’ve already shown a lack of respect toward my bloodline. That doesn’t inspire confidence in your ability to honor any agreement we might form."

He flinched, just slightly, and it was satisfying to see the usually unshakable Alpha waver.

"Her strength," he began carefully, "is admirable. It caught me off guard."

"Spare me the flattery," I snapped, leaning forward. "This is about your lack of control. You crossed a line, and now you’re here to salvage what’s left of your reputation."

Alaric’s hands clenched into fists, but he kept his voice steady. "I take full responsibility for my actions, and I’m willing to make amends."

"Amends?" I repeated, narrowing my eyes. "What exactly do you think that entails? A few words of regret and a handshake?"

He didn’t answer immediately, and the silence between us grew heavy. Finally, he spoke. "I’m here because I respect you, Alpha Elaxdor. Your leadership, your wisdom. And I want to prove that I’m not the leader you think I am."

His words were bold, but they lacked the conviction I needed to hear. I wasn’t interested in promises or posturing.

"Prove it, then," I said coldly. "Actions speak louder than words, Alaric. And as far as I’m concerned, your actions have already disqualified you from any alliance with my pack."

His eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise. "You’re rejecting the alliance?"

"Yes," I replied, rising to my feet. "I won’t tie my pack’s future to someone who acts without thinking, who threatens my bloodline without a second thought."

Alaric stood as well, his expression unreadable. For a moment, I thought he might argue, but instead, he inclined his head. "I understand your position," he said quietly.

"Do you?" I challenged, stepping closer. "Because if you did, you wouldn’t have put me in this position to begin with."

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

"Leave," I said firmly. "And don’t come back unless you have something more substantial to offer than empty apologies."

Alaric nodded once before turning and walking toward the door. His shoulders were tense, his movements rigid, but he didn’t look back.

The door creaked as Alaric’s heavy footsteps faded into the distance, leaving me in the silence of my study. The air hung thick with tension, but it wasn’t the kind that dissipated easily. The alliance had been a tempting prospect—uniting our packs would have brought strength and security—but I couldn’t ignore the risks.

I sat down heavily in my chair, leaning my cane against the edge of the desk. My leg throbbed as it always did, a cruel reminder of past mistakes. The faint sound of her training still echoed from the grounds below, and though I couldn’t see her from my window, I could imagine her—headstrong, defiant, swinging a sword as if that would ever be enough.

Chlorendia thought herself strong. Thought herself capable. But all I could see was her arrogance, her refusal to understand the reality of our world. Females had their place—one of support, of continuity—and no amount of stubbornness would change that.

The thought made my jaw tighten, and my fingers drummed on the wooden surface of the desk. I despised the way she looked at me, as if I were the sole obstacle to her aspirations. As if my decisions were born out of spite, rather than years of experience.

But she wasn’t entirely wrong.

I hated her defiance because it reminded me of myself. I hated the way she tried to wield power she didn’t have, the way she acted as though the rules didn’t apply to her.

Memories stirred, unbidden, pulling me back to a time when I had been as blind and reckless as she was now.

I was young then—arrogant, ambitious, and desperate to prove myself. The purebred packs had always held themselves above the rest of us, their bloodlines untainted, their power unmatched. To challenge one of their Alphas was unthinkable, but I had done it anyway.

I remembered the day vividly. The sun had been high, casting harsh light on the circle of onlookers as I stood before the Alpha of the Zenith Pack. He was massive, his fur a silvery white that glimmered like moonlight, his presence suffocating.

"You’re brave," he had said, his voice like gravel. "Or foolish. Which is it?"

"I’m determined," I had replied, my voice steady despite the fear clawing at my insides.

The challenge wasn’t about dominance—it was about legacy. The Zenith Pack’s daughters were the most sought-after mates, their bloodlines promising strength and purity. To secure one as a mate was to secure the future of your pack.

The fight had been brutal. Every strike, every blow had been a reminder of the difference between us. He was a force of nature, his movements fluid and deadly, while I was barely holding my own.

By the time it was over, I was broken—my pride, my body, and my spirit shattered. My legs had taken the worst of it, the Alpha’s claws rendering them useless. The healers had done their best, but the damage was irreversible.

Still, I had won. Barely.

The Alpha had honored the agreement, offering his youngest daughter as my mate. She was beautiful, delicate, and utterly uninterested in me. But none of that mattered. She was mine, and with her, I believed I had secured greatness.

It didn’t last.

Her death was slow and agonizing, the childbirth too much for her fragile body. The child—a half-shifter, half-purebred—survived, but she was a constant reminder of my failure.

And then they were gone.

The Zenith Pack vanished not long after, their lands abandoned, their members scattered or dead. Some said they had been hunted to extinction, others believed they had simply withdrawn from the world, retreating to some hidden sanctuary.

Whatever the truth, their disappearance left a void—one I had tried and failed to fill.

I shook my head, banishing the memories. They were useless, just like the regrets they carried.

But Chlorendia...

Her stubbornness, her defiance—they were a dangerous combination. She didn’t understand the stakes, didn’t realize the delicate balance I had spent years maintaining.

And Alpha Alaric. His visit only confirmed my fears. He was as reckless as I had been, his strength masking a dangerous lack of foresight. The way he looked at Chlorendia, the way he spoke of her—it was clear he didn’t respect her.

But could I blame him?

She was a female pretending to play a male’s game. Her presence on the training grounds, her insistence on challenging authority—it was all a performance, one that would crumble the moment real danger appeared.

And yet, a part of me hesitated.

She was my daughter. My blood.

Could she be the exception? Could she succeed where I had failed?

The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

I rose from my chair, leaning heavily on my cane as I walked to the window. The training grounds were empty now, the servants likely preparing for the day’s duties.

Alaric’s carriage was gone, but his presence lingered, a reminder of the choices I had yet to make.

Chlorendia thought I was the villain of her story, but she didn’t see the bigger picture. She didn’t understand the sacrifices I had made, the burdens I carried.

One day, she would.

But until then, I would do what I must to protect the pack. Even if it meant playing the role of the villain.