Chapter Forty-Three

**Sloan**

One week later…

Their eight-month nightmare was finally coming to an end.

Sloan was once again in the Council Chambers, but this time it’s for the trials of the surrendered rogues. Next week, they will begin the inquest into their family members to see if they can remain with their packs, clans or covens, or suffer the consequences of banishment or worse.

He glanced to his right; as always, there was Myra. The clinic discharged her some days ago, but instead of resting like a good patient, she propelled herself headfirst into various duties. One such duty was sitting by Leanne’s bedside. She was taken out of her coma the day before and still resting comfortably in the clinic. Unfortunately, various tests have indicated that the drugs injected into her created new antibodies within her system that made a permanent block to her panther. Even though Leanne was in high spirits from joyously being alive and finding her mate in Tristan, she suffered from waves of depression from the loss of her animal spirit and the heartbreaking betrayal of her brother. It was disheartening to see one of his life-long friends beat herself up for something that wasn’t her fault.

He shook his head to clear it as his eyes skimmed over Myra next to him, looking like the Queen that she is. She had styled her curly natural hair into a messy bun on top of her head, with some curls falling artfully about her face and shoulders. She wore a black matching fitted, off the shoulder dress that fitted down mid-thigh paired with a pair of black pumps. She sat straight back and cross-legged, soaking in each word about the criminals and their numerous crimes. He was hesitant about Myra witnessing the council’s archaic investigative tactics, particularly the Wiccans’ methods of interrogating and extracting memories from individuals who refused to talk or lies.

His eyes shifted down to her stomach, where their pup laid nestle and safe inside. It’s been about two weeks, and a small bump was already forming. In a couple of weeks, they would formally inform everyone about the pup. Thus far, Myra insisted on having weekly blood tests to ensure that the rogues’ drug had no adverse effects on the baby. Even though the second test Dr Norah conducted while she was still a patient told them that there wasn’t anything to be worried about.

He couldn’t resist, he placed his hand on her exposed crossed leg, and she almost jumped out of her skin. Goosebumps immediately formed under his palm, and he smirked when a small hint of her arousal curled around his nose.

“*Your final check-up is tonight… after I want you under me for the rest of the night and possibly tomorrow morning and all day.*” He linked with her, giving her a side glance.

“*Oh, promises, promises.*” She teased, then stiffened when Sloan squeezed her thigh.

“*You will pay for that.*” He warned, leaving his hand on her thigh, and she brought hers down on top of his. Her ring twinkled like a star on her finger. When she was first rescued, he was furious to see her naked finger. But some days ago, she asked for her handbag from the car wreck and found her ring still inside its box. Apparently, she had removed it during the school day to work on a craft with the children and forgot to put it back on.

Thank goodness for small mercies who knew how Elizabeth would have reacted upon seeing it.

“We did discover one thing about prisoner number thirteen. Named Otis Oliver from the Blacklake Clan.” A guard stated, bursting their intimate bubble and drew their attention back to the proceedings.

“And what did you uncover?” Someone quizzed.

“He had a hand in the development of the spirit blocking serum.” The guard confessed for the prisoner.

Everyone sat up straight, and Sloan tried to remove his hand off of Myra’s lap, but her grip tightened on his.

“Bring in this Otis Oliver.” Elder Reagan commanded.

The guard nodded her head and quickly left the room. As they waited for the guard to return, notifications appeared on everyone’s tablet screen. Sloan clicked on the notification, and it was Otis’ background information. He read and scrolled through the document when the guard returned shortly after with a young, skinny boy who looked no older than seventeen. He was dressed in the red council prisoner’s scrubs. His eyes were bloodshot, but he was squinting as if he couldn’t see clearly. His face was slightly swollen and sweaty.

“Are you Otis Oliver from the Blacklake Clan?” Elder Reagan questioned because the boy standing before them and his photo on file didn’t match. In his photo, he looked healthy, happy and beaming with life; instead of the drawn, tired-looking creature before them.

“Yes.” He croaked.

Myra’s grip on his hand became painful, causing him to look over at her. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and her other hand curled around her stomach as if protecting their pup from further harm.

“*Do you recognize him?*” Sloan linked with her, rubbing her thigh to ease her anxiety.

“*He was in the arena… it amazed him that Skye could still move after we were shit over and over again with their serum.*”

A female elder addressed him first, “What is your species boy?”

“Beaver, ma’am.”

“We have been told that you had a hand in the creation of this spirit blocking drug?”

He shrugged before answering, “Minimal.”

“He’s lying… they called him the doctor.” Myra’s voice immediately echoed in his mind. Another Elder was about to ask a follow-up question when Sloan stood up, silencing and drawing the rooms’ attention to him.

“That would be your only lie… tell the truth.” Sloan’s booming voice caused the boy to yelp in fear. He could sense Alpha’s restlessness as he craved for control. Sloan had a feeling the boy’s fear was only an act, just like Richie. There was more to him than what met the eye.

“I swear… I didn’t have much knowledge about the drug.”

“So, you weren’t called the doctor by your group of misguided misfits?” Sloan questioned with an arch of his eyebrow. The boy stood still as the Elders murmured amongst themselves.

Otis scratched the back of his neck then his chest. The move made him look like a junkie suffering from withdrawal. Upon closer inspection, he saw the beads of sweat on his brow and the tightness in his skin.

“What else did you experiment with? Because Brian tried shifting, and that’s near impossible for a boy with no animal spirit to begin with.”

Otis was now shivering in fear once again but remained silent. Sloan arched his eyebrow again, this time slightly impressed by the boy’s resilience. He nodded to the guards standing near him. Two of them held his arms while another gripped the side of his face. Sloan returned to his seat and replaced his hand on Myra’s lap.

The guard, holding his face, eyes turned cloudy white, and Otis tried to shake his head free, but that was a lost cause. So when it didn’t work, he started screaming out his frustration as the guard probed his mind.

Sloan felt Myra buried her face into the side of his arm, looking away. It was understandable because she never had a reason to be in the council before, and the way they conducted interrogations was barbaric but it yielded results.

“The spirit blocking serum wasn’t their only drug… he had also created a serum to amplify one’s ability through injectable animal steroids… only one notable test subject.” The guard stated, “Brian Marshall.”

The guard released his head, and the boy fell onto his knees exhausted. Soon, louder murmurs erupted throughout the chamber, but someone was chuckling menacingly. The chuckles grew in volume, causing the Elders to slowly silenced themselves. They all looked at the boy’s shaking body. Even Myra unburied her face from his shoulder to gaze upon him. The boy just held his stomach and laughed; he was laughing so hard that it was becoming increasingly creepy and eerie.

“You all have no idea what is happening and what is to come,” Otis said through different bouts of laughter. His words told them that they may have won the battle, but there was a war brewing.

Sloan turned to Myra, kissing her forehead before standing up again. He blinked once, very slowly surrendering control to Alpha. His presence shifted the atmosphere in the room. Elders and guards all acknowledged his arrival with the slight tilt of their necks to display their submission and loyalty to the Lycan King.

The only person not affected by this shift in power was Myra, or should he say, Skye. Her Luna presence was also in the room. It was a protective instinct that was becoming more natural with each passing day. Even Otis stopped laughing when he realized the sudden swift. He almost shrunk in size due to the powerful Alpha and Luna auras that suddenly filled the room.

“Still think it’s a laughing matter?” Alpha growled, but the boy was smarter than he looked. He didn’t defiantly try to continue playing tough guy before Alpha, nor did he struggle against his natural instincts to bare his neck in submission. Alpha bowed his head to Myra before approaching the small elevated stage where the boy stood in the center of the room. “So, what is it that we don’t know that’s coming, huh?” He stopped within neck-grabbing distance from the boy.

“Brian and I were just the brains behind the drugs… we were only following instructions.” Otis immediately confessed, and the Elders all gasped in shock.

“What do you mean only following instructions?” Elder Reagan asked in surprise.

“Wasn’t Brian Marshall your rogue leader?” Another asked, “Don’t tell us Elizabeth was the head of this operation?”

Otis snorted and rolled his eyes, ignoring their questions. Alpha tilted his head to the side, observing the boy’s demeanour. Instead of wringing his neck like a damn chicken, Alpha patted his matted hair. The move caused the boy to still and profusely sweat.

“I believe your Elders asked you a series of questions… it would be wise that you answer them.” He growled, curling his fingers around his neck but not applying any pressure. Otis whimpered and quickly nodded his head before answering.

“Elizabeth was nothing but a whore and dumber than a fence post. Shadow allowed Brian to believe that this was all his idea, but he was just a footman like the rest of us.”

“Who’s Shadow?” But the boy refused to respond again, so Alpha’s fingers tightened around his neck.

“We don’t know… all memory of him seemed to vanish whenever he gave instructions… hence we called him, Shadow.”

“If all memories were removed, how do you remember him?” A member asked skeptically because the remarks and their actions don’t add up. Otis suddenly appeared guilty, avoiding eye contact with Alpha while he struggled less against the tight grip around his neck.

Alpha sensed that there was more to Otis than what meets the eye. He quickly released his neck and nodded to the female guard again. She stepped back to the boy, who was rubbing his bruised neck and held onto the sides of his head. Otis attempted to break free from her hold, but his eyes clouded over as she mumbled and probed his mind.

“This shadow person left voice recordings with their instructions… but he’s telling the truth about never seeing him.” The guard explained, “There are fogs and gaps in his memory.” She concluded, releasing his head, and her eyes turned back to a vivid, violet colour. Otis was breathing heavily and laboured, but no one cared about his discomfort. “Very few Wiccans are powerful enough to cast such a memory spell.”

“Fuck!” Alpha swore under his breath. He never considered the possibility that if he and his Luna were back, then other Alpha species would be back as well. And she wasn’t to be messed with. Her obsession, possessiveness and narrowed views cost them everything last time.

“Not a Wiccan… but a powerful dominant Witch.” He stated, “Umm, you – what’s your name again?” He asked, pointing to the Wiccan guard who was probing Otis’ mind.

“Alena.”

“While you were searching his memories… were they also harvesting large blood samples from their victims?”

Before she could answer, Otis’ eyes widened, confirmed Alpha’s suspicions. However, before they could as another question, Otis started clawing at his neck, gagging and struggling against an invisible force. Alpha and the guards all stepped back as Otis dropped to his knees. For a brief moment, they saw absolute terror in his eyes before his head snapped sharply to the left, almost turning completely to his back. He immediately stopped moving and collapsed to the ground.

The minutes ticked by, but no one said a word. They all just stared at his dead body on the ground, possibly wondering what just happened. Suddenly, it burst into flames. The room erupted into outrage as different guards moved to secure his body. But the magic used was powerful, rendering it to ashes within seconds.

Elders, Alphas, clan leaders, coven high priests and priestess all spoke over each other, speculating and arguing about what had happened in their sacred chamber. Alpha’s eyes immediately sort out Skye’s. She stood up from her seat, one hand cupping her mouth and the other cradling her tiny bump. Like him, she knew the implications and consequences of this enemy.

The growl that emanated from him silenced the room.

“The foe, we are up against, is as old and as ancient as my Luna and I. However, it’s the creatures that she wishes to unleash on the world that concerns me.”

As he spoke, Skye approached him, and the crowd provided her with the space to pass. Once she was within arm’s length, he pulled her into his side. He will be damned if something happens to her and their pup… again.

“She, Alpha?”

Alpha nodded his head, “Yes, she… the reason why Lycans became less and less in the past,” He explained, “Gather your best warriors to the council training fields tomorrow at first light… we need to prepare because war is coming.”

They all nodded and started making calls. Training against this foe will be different from sparing with members to stay fit or settle disputes. Alpha exhaled a harsh breath, and Skye’s arm tightened around his waist. She hadn’t said a word yet, but her mere presence provided him with immense calm, self-assurance and clarity.

Elder Reagan cleared his throat, “Then we need to conduct the coronation today.”