Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
LOGAN
I storm into my father’s office without waiting for the guard to announce me. The heavy oak doors slam against the wall with a satisfying crash that matches the fury boiling through my veins.
“Why did you have my pack arrested?” I demand, my voice echoing in the cavernous room.
My father looks up from the document he’s reviewing, his expression one of practiced disinterest. He dismisses his attendant from the room with a casual flick of his wrist before leaning back in his ornate chair.
“I wondered how long it would take you to come charging in here.” He sighs, setting down his pen. “Your predictability is becoming tedious, Logan.”
“Answer the question.”
His sardonic smile deepens. “Would you prefer I have you arrested instead?”
I freeze, my outrage momentarily replaced by a cold thread of fear. “What does that mean?”
“Come now,” he says drolly, gesturing for me to take a seat across from him. “You can drop the act. I’ve known about Ander for quite some time.”
The floor seems to shift beneath my feet. I remain standing, unwilling to show any sign of weakness. “What exactly do you think you know?”
My father studies me with clinical detachment. “That you killed your brother. That you staged the body to make it look like an accident.” He waves a dismissive hand. “The details are irrelevant at this point. But someone does have to be held responsible.”
My mind races. If he’s known all along, why wait until now to make a move? Why name me heir if he knows I murdered Ander?
“My pack had nothing to do with Ander’s death,” I insist.
My father turns to face me, his expression hardening. “Don’t lie to me, boy. Not after everything I’ve done to protect you.”
The statement catches me off guard. “Protect me?”
“Did you think I named you heir out of sentimentality?” He laughs, the sound sharp and cold.
“I’ve spent decades building this kingdom, unifying territories that had warred for centuries.
I need an heir who understands what that requires—the necessary ruthlessness, the willingness to do whatever it takes. ”
He steps closer, his gaze boring into mine. “Ander was too ruled by his impulses, too likely to act on his urges. He wanted power, but lacked the subtlety needed to keep it. You, on the other hand...”
“You’re saying you approve of what happened to Ander?” I can barely believe what I’m hearing.
“Approve is too strong a word. Let’s say I understand the necessity.” He returns to his desk, picking up a small glass paperweight and turning it in his hands. “What I don’t understand is your attachment to that pack of yours.”
The irony of his casual dismissal of my brother’s murder isn’t lost on me. All of us are replaceable to him, we always have been.
“My pack is loyal.”
“Pack loyalty ,” my father spits the words like a curse. “Another weakness I had hoped you would outgrow. Those men are tools, nothing more.”
“They’re mine,” I growl, unable to keep the possessive note from my voice.
My father’s eyes narrow. “And that is precisely the problem. You cannot lead this kingdom if you’re entangled in romantic notions of loyalty.”
“Is that what this is about? You’re testing me?”
“Everything is a test.” He sets the paperweight down with deliberate care. “The packs were a necessary structure during the unification wars, a way to manage the Alpha population, to channel their aggression toward common enemies rather than each other. But that era is coming to an end.”
A chill runs down my spine. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that the future of this kingdom depends on Alphas who are loyal to the crown above all else. Not to their packs, not to their personal attachments.” He fixes me with a steely gaze. “The pack system has served its purpose. It’s time for something new.”
Understanding dawns, each piece falling into place with sickening clarity. “This isn’t about Ander at all, is it?”
“Clever boy.” My father’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Consider this the first of many necessary sacrifices you’ll make as heir. If you can’t part with a few disposable Alphas for the good of the kingdom, then you’re not fit to rule.”
Rage and disbelief war for dominance within me. This man—this monster who wears my father’s face—has orchestrated this entire situation not out of justice for Ander, but as some twisted test of my loyalty to the crown.
“My pack is what has made me strong enough to field all challenges as your damn heir.”
He raises a mocking eyebrow. “Does that include the abomination you’ve been hiding?”
I freeze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“I always thought it strange how attached you became to a beta, no matter how good of a warrior he is,” my father says, his eyes gleaming with a new kind of cruelty.
“When the Inquisitor first whispered his suspicions in my ear, I refused to believe it. My own son, harboring a male Omega and aiding him in hiding his designation? Impossible.”
The room seems to shrink around me, the air growing thick and unbreathable. My hands clench at my sides as I fight to maintain my composure.
“But now I understand,” he continues, circling his desk to stand directly before me. “There is always a certain novelty in perversion, I suppose. Even I have indulged in...unconventional appetites from time to time.”
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. “Father?—“
“Creating a permanent bond, however...” He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “That was shameful, Logan. Truly shameful.”
My mind races, searching for a way out of this conversation, out of this revelation that threatens everything. The king knows about Cillian. He knows what we’ve hidden for so long.
“You’re fortunate I discovered the truth before it became public knowledge,” he says, his voice taking on an almost conversational tone. “The scandal would have been unimaginable otherwise. And now we have a solution that works for all parties involved.”
I open my mouth to deny it all, to construct some elaborate lie, but before I can form the words, a sharp pain lances through my chest. The sensation is so sudden and intense that I stagger backward, one hand clutching at my heart.
“Logan?” My father’s voice sounds distant, but I don’t miss the strain of mockery. “Are you feeling alright, my son?”
The pain deepens, spreading through my body like wildfire. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt—not a physical wound, but something deeper, more primal. Something wrong with the bond.
Cillian.
“Something’s happening,” I gasp, struggling to remain upright as another wave of agony crashes through me. “Something’s wrong with?—“
I bite off the words before I can incriminate myself further, but it’s too late. My father’s expression shifts from confusion to cold understanding.
“Ah, I see.” He steps back, observing my suffering with clinical detachment. “The bond is reacting so quickly to the treatment. How fascinating.”
I barely hear him through the roaring in my ears. The pain is transforming, evolving from a sharp stab to a hollowing sensation, as if something essential is being torn from my very core.
He’s in danger.
“What have you done?” I demand, fighting through the pain to lunge toward my father. “What the fuck have you done to him?”
The king doesn’t flinch as I approach, his confidence in his power absolute. “Nothing, personally. But you must see that your mistakes have to be corrected.”
I grab his jacket lapels, pulling him close enough that I can see the flecks of amber in his cold eyes. “Tell me what is happening!”
“Dr. Thane has a particular interest in Omegas, you see. An interest that aligns quite well with our kingdom’s needs,” my father says calmly, as if we’re discussing the weather.
“He has been invaluable in pioneering technology for increasing the Omega population. Even more impressive, he claims to have found a way to sever mating bonds.”
Thane. The doctor. The man who’s been lurking at the edges of our lives since Ander’s death.
“Luckily, I’ve discovered a way to ensure we all get what we need,” my father continues, unperturbed by my grip on his jacket.
“It’s quite elegant, really. Abomination he may be, but a male Omega has unique genetic markers that Dr. Thane believes could revolutionize our understanding of designation biology.
He’s quite excited. Giving him Cillian solves the problem of rewarding Thane for his efforts, as well as hiding your indiscretions. ”
The pain in my chest intensifies, making it hard to focus on his words.
“I’m going to kill him,” I snarl, releasing my father and turning toward the door. “I’m going to tear him apart with my bare hands.”
“You’ll do no such thing.” My father’s voice cracks like a whip. “Thane is operating with my full authorization. His research is vital to the future of Melilla.”
The pain in my chest flares again, so intense that my vision blurs at the edges. I clutch the doorframe for support, fighting to stay conscious.
“I can feel him,” I gasp. “Whatever Thane is doing, it’s killing him. And if Cillian dies?—“
“It’s possible you’ll follow,” my father finishes matter-of-factly. “But unlikely. Thane has assured me his bond severing procedure is revolutionary. Cillian will live long enough to be studied and you will have no more distractions from your duties as my heir.”
“And if I do die?”
“That would be regrettable.” My father shrugs. “But I have so many sons for a reason.”
A murderous rage washes over me, more intense than anything I’ve ever felt before.
Blood pounds in my ears as I stare at my father’s casual dismissal of my life, of Cillian’s life, of everything I’ve fought to protect.
For a moment, all I see is red—a vision of my hands around his throat, squeezing until that smug expression vanishes forever.
My father must sense the violence radiating from me because he holds up a single hand, palm out. Despite his advanced age, his posture remains commanding, regal.
“I can offer you a dozen Omegas to replace these two and I will,” he insists. “Do not destroy everything you’ve built for them.”
Them .
A feeling like nothing I’ve ever felt before simmers in my blood. Something alive and dangerous. “Thane also has Maya?”
“His research apparently requires them both. Assuming she survived, I’d hoped to have her myself, if just to see what all the fuss is about.
I assumed you wouldn’t mind given how you’ve treated her.
And if Thane is successful, you’ll have more Omega cunt to choose from than you could ever imagine?—”
I lunge at my father before I can even think, my body moving on pure instinct, fueled by rage so intense it obliterates all reason.
My fist connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack, the impact sending a jolt up my arm.
The king staggers back, eyes wide with genuine shock.
He didn’t expect this, didn’t think his obedient son would ever dare lay hands on him.
For all his grand speeches about power and strength, my father hasn’t fought his own battles in years.
The realization hits me as I grab his expensive silk shirt, tearing buttons as I slam him against the wall.
His bodyguards aren’t here. He dismissed them himself, confident in his ability to control me through manipulation rather than force.
A fatal miscalculation.
“You’re having them tortured,” I growl, my voice barely recognizable even to my own ears. My hands find his throat, fingers digging into royal flesh. “My Omegas. Mine.”
My father struggles against my grip, his eyes bulging as he claws at my hands. There is fear in his gaze now, genuine terror as he realizes I might actually kill him. The great King Leopold, who unified warring cities through bloodshed and cunning, now fighting for breath beneath his son’s hands.
“You…won’t... make it out...” he gasps, face purpling as I tighten my hold. “Kill me...and you’re...dead before...reaching the…palace gates.”
His words penetrate the red haze of my fury. He’s right. The palace guard is loyal to the crown, not to me. If I kill him here, I’ll never make it out alive.
But neither will Maya and Cillian if I don’t act now.
I ease my grip just enough to let him draw a ragged breath. “Where are they?”
“I don’t know,” he gasps. “Thane keeps his lab hidden.”
“Where are Ares and Poe being held?” I demand, pressing my forearm against his windpipe. Maya still has a tracking device embedded in her body and I pray it hasn’t removed. Poe will be able to locate her within a few feet if she is still in the city. “Tell me now.”
“North...tower...detention level,” he wheezes, survival instinct overriding his pride. “But you’re giving up everything. The throne...your birthright...all of it.”
I release him suddenly, watching with cold satisfaction as he slides down the wall, clutching his throat and coughing violently.
“If my mates are dead and I survive it,” I say, my voice deadly calm now, “there won’t be a throne left for me to sit on. I’ll burn the cursed thing to the ground.”
My father looks up at me, recognition dawning in his eyes. Not of me as his son, but of something else—the same ruthless determination he’s always cultivated in me, now turned against him.
“You really would,” he whispers, more to himself than to me. “For Omegas. For a pack?”
I straighten my blood-stained uniform, already calculating the fastest route to the north tower. Every second counts now.
“Not just any Omegas or any pack,” I correct him, turning toward the door. “Mine.”