82: Ambrose's game

**Oliver**

“So, when did *this* happen?” Jasmine asked motioning to my hand which refused to leave Loren’s.

Loren cleared her throat before blushing and saying, “It’s new. He’s on a probation period.”

Jasmine chuckled and sipped at her water. Her hand shook slightly as she lifted it up to her lips. She was nervous and anxious. I couldn’t say I blamed her. I myself was anxious. Ambrose would most definitely have my aunt Ruth and my father on his side. When the three of them were together, it was a recipe for disaster for whoever tried to cross them. Ambrose had the gift of strength just as Damon had and my father had incredible speed. My aunt Ruth was not of the few lucky Michaels wolves to inherit the Alpha wolf gene, but she was just as lethal. She was quick-thinking and ruthless, just like the rest of her siblings. She had to be. The Michaels family was known for its misogyny and so all of the women born within worked extremely hard to be on par with the male members of the family. Few of them managed to earn the respect of the rest of the family, but the ones that did were extremely dangerous. The infamous aunt Charlotte was one of these lethal ladies. Fortunately for us, like the rest of the family, she did not get along with Ambrose and his siblings and so I was grateful that she was on our side. Ruth and Ryder were the only siblings Ambrose had ever trusted, which was why they were trusted with helping raise Tristan and me. Despite their involvement in both Tristan’s and my own upbringing, the both of us never formed a connection with any of them. They always made us feel as though raising us was just another chore of theirs. It was done out of obligation and not because they cared. Ambrose, however, never made Tristan feel as though his task of looking after her was an obligation. Despite his awful take on raising the poor woman, he always seemed to enjoy watching her grow and teaching her. I could honestly say he was more involved in her life than he ever was in his own children’s. And for a while, I could honestly say that his entire world revolved around her. Perhaps it was because she never disappointed him. He’d give her a seemingly impossible task to complete, and she’d not only meet his expectations; she’d exceed it without complaint. But the bond between the two was much more complicated than simply adoptive father and daughter. He owed her his life. Ambrose had died all of those years ago and now, he lived on borrowed time, all thanks to Tristan. He’d never admit it, but it always plagued him, and it was the reason that he’d so willingly agreed for her to succeed him in becoming an Alpha. With this in mind, I began to question his actions thus far. He was a heartless man, cruel down to the bone, but when it came to Tristan, he was more inclined to be less heartless than usual. He’d known for the longest time that she’d chosen Lucien over him and yet he still chose to welcome her back the moment she’d brought Lucien back to the pack as her captive. Losing her to his real children which he desperately despised must have completely driven him to ruin. And so, I wondered whether he had taken Tristan out of the fight out of fear or because of some other reason… It was at that moment that an awful, uncomfortable feeling of nausea overtook me.

“You look like you’re about to throw up. Are you okay?” Loren asked before rubbing circles against the back of my palm. The reassuring gesture and the softness of her words immediately drew me out of my concerned thoughts.

“It’s nothing. I just got a bad feeling all of a sudden.” I said, trying to muster up a smile.

“I hate to say it,” Jasmine said, placing her glass of water on the coffee table in front of her, “but I got a bad feeling too. What if Tristan was wrong about everything? What if-”

And just before she could finish, agonising screams erupted from outside confirming what Jasmine and I had feared. The front door burst open, and I almost instinctively tugged at Loren’s hand before walking us both to the other end of the sitting room so that we were closer to Jasmine. Fortunately for us, it was just London and Amber. However, the frightened and concerned looks on their faces told us that our sighs of relief would be short-lived.

“Rogues… there are rogues on the packgrounds!” London yelled. “We need to get Jasmine to safety. Hide her in one of the rooms at the top while we fend them off.”

Jasmine touched at her belly for a moment. A conflicted look appeared on her face, as though she were contemplating what London had demanded. I expected her to be stubborn and to refuse to listen to London, but instead, we were all pleasantly surprised when she nodded and stood up from the sofa, ready to follow us into the safety of one of the upstairs rooms. As we made our way towards the exit of the sitting room, I asked London how many rogues had infiltrated the pack. I wanted to know just how much of a fight we’d all have to put up and worried about how Loren would cope. I was extremely exhausted and weak from worry, and she was still recovering from being poisoned.

“There aren’t that many. From what Henry told me, they arrived in a few vehicles so just under thirty. But before I left, they’d already breached the outer perimeter of the pack and wiped out all of the guards patrolling there.”

It was just as I’d feared. Tristan had been mistaken and he’d set up a trap meant for Damon. What he didn’t count on was Tristan still being in the fight and so we still had a slight advantage… if she made it on time. With this in mind, I reached for my phone, ready to dial Landon. I wanted to know whether or not Ambrose had stayed behind at the packgrounds, hoping that this rogue attack was his attempt at gaining a bit of leverage on Damon. But as we left the safety of the sitting room and made it to the hallway, we were all rendered frozen, our feet trapped to the ground, stuck in absolute, icy horror. Standing right at the front doorway in his terrifying glory was the man from hell himself. Ambrose Michaels. It seemed that this little game of his was much darker than I anticipated, and I could truly say that at this point in time I was more afraid of my uncle than I ever had been in my life.

He was, however, not alone. On either side of him stood the two siblings who’d stuck with him throughout all of this madness- Ruth and my father, Ryder. All three had similar features, dark hair, sharp, hazel eyes, well-chiselled noses with slightly lifted bridges. Like the rest of the Michaels family, they were strikingly beautiful, but it did little to mask up the ghastly ugliness which lurked inside of each of them.

“Father…” I uttered out as I stared at the tall man standing beside Ambrose. He set his eyes on me in a sense of deep disappointment. It had been years since we’d seen each other and yet I felt nowhere near happy to see my own father. Instead, I felt sick to my stomach. The only reason the three of them had come here was to kill us all. Blood no longer mattered, instead, the three of them were after something that defied our family ties- revenge. And so, the man who stood before me, the man who’d helped bring me into this world, could no longer be considered to be my family anymore. Instead, he was my enemy.

**Jasmine**

The moment I saw him, fear took a hold of me. He was a huge man, much larger than I’d expected him to be and his large body cast a dark shadow across the hallway. Next to him, on either side stood two people who had quite similar features to his. Oliver had addressed the other tall stranger as “father” and so I assumed that the woman standing on the other side of Ambrose was his sibling as well.

Ambrose’s eyes wandered from Loren’s face to Oliver’s. Then he stopped momentarily at London’s, almost gazing at her in disappointment before continuing his scrutiny. By the time he made it to my face, he paused and then a deep, sickening smile made its way onto his face.

“You must be my Tristan’s sister, Jasmine. It’s truly an honour to meet you.” His brows then furrowed before gently softening again. “You have your mother’s eyes.”

It was the way he looked at me that caught me off guard. I knew for a fact that before today, I’d never seen this man before in person, and yet he looked at me as though he’d known me for years. It was unnerving to say the least and I found myself growing increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.

“You know I had the intention of killing you when I left the pack this morning. Morale has been low, and the pack seemed more inclined to disobey me than they would have before your sister did me the dishonour of beating me in a fight, and so I thought I’d blow off some steam by murdering the jewel of Damon’s life. However, I’m starting to wonder whether or not it would give me any satisfaction. You’re carrying my grandchild… and as much as you’re Damon’s mate, you’re Tristan’s sister too… and you’re Selene’s daughter.”

As soon as he mentioned both my sister and my mother, something in me snapped and I could no longer succumb to the silence that his presence had forced me into.

“Do not act as though they mean anything to you. You killed my mother, and you robbed my sister of her emotions and then dragged her into the dark with you. Don’t pretend to be something you’re not.”

His brows raised and his eyes widened in surprise. Once he’d recovered from his shock, he smiled once again and gave a little chuckle. It was a horrid sound to hear, especially when it came from him.

“Both you and your sister are more like your mother than I ever could have anticipated. Fearless and mouthy. But what you said to me before does have me curious, Jasmine Spectra. What am I pretending to be?”

“Merciful. You’re playing a game.” I said.

He nodded, impressed at my deduction and then said, “I suppose your time spent with Lucien taught you a lot about who I am. I must say, I never expected him to be the most like me. He would have made a fine Alpha.”

“He’s *nothing* like you!” I practically yelled, burning with rage and playing his game.

“You might be right. You might be wrong. I suppose you and Damon have this idea that you can save people. You tried it with Lucien, then with your sister. But I wonder… could you save someone like me?”

“No.” It wasn’t me who responded. It was London.

Immediately his eyes returned to hers and he said, “Well you don’t look all too happy to see your dad.”

“You’re dead to me.” She seethed.

He almost rolled his eyes at her before saying, “Is that supposed to make me feel bad? London you were dead to me the moment you were born. You and your brothers have done nothing but disappoint me your whole lives. It’s why I stayed away from all of you. You were constant reminders of what a disappointment my own flesh and blood could be. The only person ever worthy of having me in their life was Tristan. Unlike the three of you, she never once disappointed me… well, until now. But no matter… mistakes are made. All that needs to be done now, is to rectify them, and I know for a fact, that I can rectify them for her.”

London almost shrank at his words, as though they’d made a harsh physical impact on her body when they’d left his mouth. It was a movement that seemed all too familiar to her, as though she’d done it for most of her life. Ambrose and his siblings had done a good job of unsettling all of us, but what had gotten under my skin the most were the words he’d just said. It was then that I finally began to realise exactly what game Ambrose was playing. The prize was always Tristan, now more than ever. Not only was she a constant source of life and healing for him, but she now had the respect of the rest of the pack. Without her, Ambrose was left with nothing. He expected Damon and Lucien to try to ambush his pack and expected them to leave me behind. I was even almost sure that he expected Oliver to be here too. And so, with all the pieces in place, he had the perfect recipe to destroy the feeling and compassionate person that Tristan had become; to turn her back into the unfeeling and cold woman he’d spent so many years moulding her into. Damon and Lucien as well as the rest of the Michaels family were expected to fall by the hands of his rogues, and Oliver and I were expected to die by his hands. Everything had been carefully calculated by Ambrose, almost flawlessly. Unfortunately for him, there was still one person he didn’t properly account for.

“Speaking of rectifying mistakes, where is your sister? Resting at Lucien’s old home?” He asked curiously.

“No. I’m right here you sick bastard!”