Alpha's Regret: The Seventh Time was Forever

Chapter 669: Chapter 669 - What are they hiding?

Voren’s eyes widened as the video played. His attention was split between Esperanza squirming in one arm, her tiny fingers poking at his chin, and Bryan tugging at his sleeve with insistent little pulls, but the men on the screen were unmistakable.

The same faces he’d seen at the hotel with Alpha Jaron. The same cold, calculating eyes.

They stood in the outlands’ woods, surrounded by skeletal trees stripped bare by autumn’s cruelty. A carpet of dead leaves stretched beneath their boots, brown and brittle, crunching with every step.

One of them bent low, clearing the dry brush from the forest floor with quick, practiced sweeps of his hands. Their heads swiveled left, then right, scanning the shadows like thieves about to commit a crime.

Then the wizard began to speak.

The words were guttural, ancient, a language that seemed to claw at the air itself. The cleared ground cracked open with a sound like splitting stone, jagged fissures racing outward from the center.

A whirlwind erupted from the fissure, spiraling upward, not quite a tornado but close enough to make the trees groan and sway. Leaves tore from their branches and spun into the vortex. The Lycans stepped into the churning wind, one by one, swallowed whole.

Seconds later, the whirlwind collapsed in on itself and vanished. The ground lay bare and undisturbed, as if nothing had ever happened. The wizard scanned the woods once more, his eyes narrow and calculating, then kicked the dry leaves back into place with his boot.

He undressed, hid his clothes in a hole, and transformed into a cat, sleek and quick, and darted into the underbrush.

The video didn’t end there.

The leader of the outlanders walked into frame, his movements cautious, his expression unreadable. He cleared the leaves exactly as he’d been shown, his hands steady despite the tension radiating from his shoulders.

The ground beneath was solid, unmarked, with no sign that a portal to the Lycan underworld had ever existed.

Voren’s frown deepened as the video cut to black. A low murmur escaped his lips, barely audible over the children’s chatter. ”What are they hiding?”

His mind churned, thoughts colliding like storm waves. A wizard stationed at the threshold every time someone entered or left the Lycan’s pack? It didn’t make sense. Why go to such lengths to protect a pack? But the answer was simple, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

No one could infiltrate the Lycan’s underworld.

The realization settled into his chest like a stone, heavy and cold.

”Daddy, you look scary when you frown.”

Esperanza’s small hands cupped his cheeks, her tiny fingers squishing them together playfully. Her eyes, bright with innocence, studied his face with the earnest concern only a child could muster.

Voren forced a smile, the muscles in his jaw resisting the movement. Bryan dissolved into giggles beside her, his laughter bright and contagious.

”Daddy looks so funny when you press his cheeks like that.”

”Indeed.” Esperanza shrugged, her tiny shoulders rising and falling with exaggerated indifference. ”It makes him less scary.”

A genuine chuckle rumbled in Voren’s chest, breaking through the tension like sunlight through clouds. He pressed a kiss to each of their foreheads, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of them. They wiggled free from his arms and scampered to Seraphine, who welcomed them with open arms and a smile that made his heart ache.

Voren watched them go, then pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before he pressed call.

The outlander leader answered on the second ring.

”What’s the meaning of that?” Voren’s voice was low, controlled, the voice of a king who had learned to wield silence like a weapon. ”Isn’t there a way to know what they’re hiding?”

A heavy sigh crackled through the speaker, static lacing the edges. ”King Voren, I wanted to inform you. Before we stalked them here, their King came to us with an offer.”

Voren’s teeth ground together. His grip on the phone tightened until the plastic creaked in protest, his knuckles bleaching white. ”What did he say?”

”He offered to build us up as a pack. Make me the Alpha.” The leader’s voice was steady, but there was something beneath it, a current of something Voren couldn’t quite name. ”He also proposed a lump sum of money to support us if we agreed to work with him.”

”And?” The calm had drained from Voren’s voice, replaced by something cold and sharp.

The outlander leader laughed, a genuine, warm sound that caught Voren completely off guard. It rumbled through the speaker like thunder rolling across a distant sky.

”King Voren, we aren’t stupid.” The words were laced with something that sounded almost like affection. ”Before you extended your hand to us, we were no better than rogues. Less than that, even. We were animals scraping for survival, forgotten by the world. You picked us up, cleaned us off, and put us on salary from your own pocket. For over a decade, you paid us for doing nothing.”

Voren listened, his jaw tight, his chest constricting with something he refused to name.

”To us, that’s not charity. That’s our life you saved.” The leader’s voice grew thick, rough with emotion he didn’t bother to hide. ”Then you started using our services which we always intended to offer as gratitude for your kindness. But guess what? You still paid us. Every single time. You never once asked for anything in return.”

The phone line hummed with silence for a beat.

”Even if the Lycan King offers us billions,” the man continued, his voice rising with conviction, ”we’ll always choose the man who saw us when no one else did. The one who made the outlands a home for those who couldn’t live under pack leadership. You gave us dignity, King Voren. You gave us purpose, and no amount of money can buy that.”

A slow breath escaped Voren’s lungs. The tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly. Relief washed through him, warm and unexpected, loosening the knot that had formed in his chest.

”I like that you can’t be bought.” His voice softened, but only slightly. The king in him never fully rested. ”But don’t you think he’ll make things difficult for you? Rejecting his offer so directly?”

”Indeed, King Voren. I thought about that.” A hint of pride crept into the man’s tone, threading through the static like gold thread through rough cloth. ”That’s why I gave him another option. I pretended to be on his side, told him I won’t take money from it. Said I’d like to earn every single cent, so he’d let me into his world.”

Voren went completely still. The phone pressed hard against his ear, the plastic warm against his skin. His heart thudded once, twice, a heavy rhythm that echoed in his throat. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The leader of the outlanders, a man who used to be simple, desperate, ready to do anything for a scrap of Voren’s favor, had grown sharp, calculated even.

He had learned to play the game. ”And?” Voren asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

The silence on the other end of the line stretched thin, taut as a bowstring, making Voren’s stomach tightened, a cold tendril of unease curling through his gut.