Still Earlier That Day:
Alpha's Residence…
Damian walked through the grand hall, his heavy boots leaving a trail of mud against the polished marble floors. His black jacket, once pristine, was now splattered with blood some dried, some fresh. His face was stained with dirt, a thin cut lining his jaw where a blade had cut him.
Yet, even in this rough state, he was breathtakingly beautiful.
The maids, walking hurriedly around, dared not meet his piercing blue eyes, but they stole glances when they thought he wouldn't notice. It was impossible not to. His tall, lean body sculpted to perfection, moved with the grace of a predator. The dark strands of his messy hair framed his sharp, chiseled features, giving him a dangerous charm.
But while the maids adored him, the guards… tolerated him.
They despised the bastard son of Alpha Castor, but none of them would be foolish enough to show it. Not when they had seen what he was capable of.
Not when they had seen how ruthless he could be.
As he strode further inside, he spotted his half-brothers huddled together near the staircase leading to the study, glasses of wine in hand, laughing without a care in the world. They were draped in fine clothing, their hair slicked back, untouched by war or any form of real life combat.
One of them, Lucian, smirked at him as he shook the wine glass in his hand, the wine twirling inside. "Ah, look who's back. Damian, you ever think about starting a new fashion trend? 'Bloodstained and homeless' might really take off if you put some effort into it."
The other brothers chuckled, their amusement obvious and condescending.
Damian didn't stop walking. He barely even spared them a glance as he snorted, shaking his head. He had neither the patience nor the interest to entertain their usual mockery.
They were fools.
Fools who had never seen the horrors he had. Never felt the weight of their father's expectations crushing down on them. Never been sent on suicide missions just to prove their worth
Without a word, he made his way past them, heading straight to his father's study.
*****
The moment he stepped inside, the cold mask he always wore cracked.
His stiff shoulders eased, his steps lost their deadly precision, and his blue eyes, sharp and unreadable, softened, just slightly.
"Father," Damian greeted, standing before the Alpha's grand mahogany desk.
Alpha Castor barely spared him a glance. His eyes remained fixed on the stack of papers before him, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the rim of his untouched glass of whiskey.
"I take it the mission was successful?"
Damian straightened, eager to report. "Yes. The target was eliminated cleanly. No loose ends. I took down two of his bodyguards before he even realized what was happening, and...."
"Clean up and get dressed."
The interruption was like a slap to the face.
Damian's mouth clamped shut, his chest tightening as his father raised his head to look at him but there was no pride in his gaze. No satisfaction. Just… indifference. Dismissive indifference.
"The ceremony starts in three hours," Castor added, dismissing him with a wave of his hand.
Damian stood there for a moment, his stomach sinking.
That was it?
No acknowledgment of his work? No approval? No slight nod or good job, son?
Of course not.
Because no matter how many times he risked his life, no matter how many bodies he left in his wake for his father's sake, it was never going to be enough.
It had never been.
With a sharp nod, Damian turned and left the room, his heart heavier than before.
He had always wanted his father's love. His attention. His approval.
But he knew now, more than ever, that he was just a tool. A weapon to be wielded when necessary an then discarded when not needed.
Not a son.
But maybe… just maybe…
If the Moon Goddess was kind, she would give him an important mate. The daughter of someone important.
Probably, Lyra, the daughter of Beta Kade. That kind of union would make him someone recognized in the pack