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Who would he get revenge on first? Those who had made fun of him all his life? The ones who’d beat him with silver rods for fun? The adult shifters who’d come to the dungeons to try and have their way with him for their own selfish pleasures? Or the very ones who killed his parents and left him abandoned to suffer in the dungeons with me?
If he hadn’t been there with me, I wondered if I'd be as strong as I was now. He was the motivation I needed to strive for better. Far more motivating than my own father, who only wished for me to either grow stronger or follow his orders of maintaining my male role as William.
With a sigh, I noticed the wolf I'd been standing on was shifting back, and there was another mass of a man - unconscious and bleeding out from the wounds I'd delivered.
"Poor guy. He's going to need more than stitches."
Leaning down to tug on his jacket, I retrieved his phone and a pack of cigarettes. Staring at the pack, I flipped the lid open to see there was one left.
"Tsk. Shitty brand and only one left. Annoying." Taking the last one and letting the box drop into the pool of blood forming beneath him, I walked off his limp body, cracking into his phone and checking through the last set of text messages to their so-called boss.
I actually sighed in disappointment. "Papa ain't going to be pleased."
Throwing the phone back and lighting the cigarette with a snap of my fingers, I enjoyed a few puffs before pulling my own phone out and ringing the old man. I hated calling him on weekends, especially when they were my reserved time, but I wasn't stupid enough to ignore this either.
He picked up on the second ring.
"I'm busy."
"Getting a blow job isn't busy," I huffed. "You were able to pick up with two hands."
He didn't say anything, but I could hear the pause of movement from whatever hooker was with him tonight. Probably trying to get another woman pregnant, despite the fact that it always ended up being a complete failure which resulted in him having the girl assassinated for not meeting his standards.
Lunatic.
"Outside pack was in the area."
"How many?"
"Hmm, nine? Maybe ten, but the last fucker ran. I'm not running around tonight. You can surely deal with that shit."
He snapped his fingers, which I'm sure cued two large guards entering his oasis of a bedroom.
"Locate the last fucker who dared try to mess with us and bring him here for torturing. I want all the details before morning."
"Yes, Sir!" the two guards declared, answering my assumptions. He always had two guards around him at all times. Probably more hidden from plain sight.
"Do you know which pack?" he asked.
"Nope. They're new. Never smelled them before. Needless to say, they think I'm your beloved son if they're sending ten assholes to kill me."
He was silent again and I took another moment to take in the smoke and allow it to absorb into my body. I needed a form of calm seeing as I’d already taken a shower.
Ugh. I may need another one. I hate dealing with shit like this.
"I'm going home," I declared, ready to hang up.
"Be on time tomorrow," he muttered in annoyance.
"I'm always on time," I acknowledged, which was pure fact. "If you want me to be early, say so, but that means I'm leaving early. You don't get more than eight hours of my time unless shit's going down, which it won't be on a shitty Monday."
"Are you smoking?"
"Is it your business?" I countered and blew out one last puff as I let out a sigh. "Get a new stalker, by the way. Onyx can do a better job than the guy you hired, who I can see rather easily," I revealed as I tossed the cigarette to the floor.
I heard him curse in the background, which was a sign that his guards, who were supposed to keep an eye on me, were being sloppy.
"I'm hanging up."
