Chapter 32
The words, the plea, that echoed from the shape, the figure, seemed to echo, to reverberate, through the night, through the forest, as my eyes widened, my nostrils flaring, as the scent, the smell, of the creature before seemed to penetrate, to saturate my very being. I realized with shock that it was not what I thought it was.
It's Valerie, my chef. She trembled, acting like she was a small, scared creature, her voice pleading, begging,
"Please, Alpha, don't kill me. It's Valerie, "she pleaded.
The anger, the rage, that had pulsed, that had burned, through my veins melted and dissipated as Valerie's words, her explanation, washed over me. I stared at her, my expression softening, as I asked, my voice still harsh, still stern, "Valerie, what are you doing out here, in the night, in the forest, when you know the witches, the coven, are on the loose?"
Valerie's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes were wide, her face pale, as she trembled, her voice quivering, "I...I'm sorry, my Alpha. I just...I just wanted to get some vegetables for dinner tomorrow, to make it special, but I didn't...I didn't realize..."
My expression hardened, my jaw clenching, "You know better, Valerie. You know that the witches, the coven, are a threat. You know that going out alone at night is not safe." I said.
"I know, my Alpha, I know," Valerie murmured, her shoulders sagging, as if the weight of her mistake, of her error, were pressing down on her, as she continued, "I didn't...I didn't think...I didn't mean to…" She stammered.
The shadows seemed to shrink back, to recede, as my gaze turned, hardened, my voice low, commanding, "Go, Valerie. Go back to the mansion. Now!" I yelled at her.
As Valerie disappeared into the darkness, as her footsteps faded, my gaze lingered, my eyes narrowed, my nostrils flaring, as the scent, the smell, of the witch, lingered, clinging to his senses, as if it were a warning, a sign, that all was not what it seemed.
The night whispered as I turned, my form blended and melted into the shadows. I stalked toward my mansion, the heart of his kingdom. My thoughts swirling, my mind racing, as I pondered, as I considered, the events of the night.
My boots crunched against the floor, as I thought of Valerie, of the witches, of the danger, the threat that they posed, to his pack.
I had suspected Valerie to be hiding something, that she was not to be trusted, but I couldn't just place my finger on what was amiss.
I could not just bring myself to let her go. Her cooking skills have captivated my soul. A skill no one else possesses in my entire pack and even beyond. The deliciousness and the wonder of Valerie's cooking always left me wanting more and more of her meal.
I made my decision as I weighed, and considered, the risks and the rewards, of keeping or dismissing Amelia.
"Spying on her would be a better option," I thought.
I decided to keep her close, to watch and observe her to protect my pack from the witches, from the coven.
"Valerie. You are a danger, a threat, but you are also an asset, a valuable member of my household," I whispered.
The night seemed to fade, to dissolve into a blur, into a haze, as I entered my mansion, my sanctuary. My eyes were heavy with sleep, with exhaustion, from the events, the stress, of the day. As I moved, I walked, like a man in a dream, toward my room and moved straight to my bed.
I collapsed, my body aching, my mind spinning, as I drifted, as I fell, into the oblivion of sleep, my thoughts still whirling, racing, like the wind, like the shadows of the night.
As I slept, as my body rested, the strange noise, the mocking laughter, echoed through the night, through the darkness, seeming to call, to beckon on me, as if it were a siren song, a whisper, of danger, of peril, that I could not ignore, could not escape.
He shot awake, his body tense, as if he had been roused from a nightmare, a vision, as he growled, his voice low, dangerous, as he roared, "Warriors! To arms! The witches are here!"
As Gerald stood at the top of the stairs, as he gazed, as he watched, the warriors gather, their swords drawn, their expressions grim, determined, he felt a surge, a pulse, of pride, of confidence, as he stood, tall, imposing, the Alpha, the King, of the werewolves, his pack.
As Gerald descended the stairs, his footsteps heavy, resounding, as if he were the heartbeat, the pulse, of his pack, his kingdom, the warriors, the werewolves, turned, their eyes fixed, their gazes locked, on their leader, on their Alpha, as they waited, eager, expectant, for his words, for his commands.
Gerald, his chest swelling, his eyes blazing, spoke, his voice like a chorus, like a symphony, "My brothers! My warriors! Tonight, we will fight words, his speech, seemed to echo, to resonate, through the very walls, the very bones, of his mansion, as he told his warriors, his brothers, of the witch attacks, the danger, the peril, that had befallen, had descended upon, his pack, his kingdom, in the night, in the darkness, when the witches, the coven, seemed to grow bolder, more brazen.
"We cannot," Gerald continued, his voice low, dangerous, "cannot allow, cannot tolerate, this threat, this menace, to our people.! Tonight, we defend!
As Gerald spoke, as his words, his commands, rang, resounded, through the night, through the darkness, the werewolf warriors, his brothers, his protectors, growled, roared, their voices a chorus, a harmony, of rage, of anger, as they surged, as they moved, like a wave, like a tempest, toward the exits, toward the corners of their kingdom, to patrol, to defend, their pack, their home.
Gerald watched, his gaze proud, his expression grim, as he murmured, as he whispered, "Protect our pack. Protect our home."
The night seemed to shudder, to quake, as the warriors, the protectors, the werewolves, left the mansion, the sanctuary, their growls, their roars, a symphony, a song, of rage, of fury, echoing, reverberating, through the darkness, as they stalked, as they prowled, through the forest, the night, like ghosts, like phantoms.
Gerald, his expression solemn, his eyes hard, watched, as if he were a sentinel, a guardian, as his warriors, his protectors, disappeared into the night, as the palace, the sanctuary, seemed to tremble, to whisper, in the silence that followed, as if it, too, were a living thing, a creature, that sensed, that felt, the danger, the peril, that lurked, that waited, beyond its walls.
In the silence, in the darkness, of the night, Gerald seemed to fade, to drift, into a dreamless sleep, his body, his mind, surrendering, at last, to the weight, the burden, of the day, as his head drooped, his eyes closed, as the throne room, his sanctuary, his kingdom, fell, descended, into silence, into stillness, as if it, too, were waiting, watching, for the dawn, for the light.
As the cries, the shouts, seemed to pierce, to penetrate, the silence, the stillness, of the night, Gerald stirred, his eyes fluttering open, as he blinked, as he rubbed the sleep, the fatigue, from his eyes, his mind groggy, dazed, as he rose, as he stood, like a man waking, stirring, from a dream.
As the cries, the shouts, seemed to echo, to reverberate, through the palace, the sanctuary, Gerald's brow furrowed, his expression tense, as he stalked, as he strode, toward the source of the commotion, the chaos, his footsteps echoing, resounding, through the night, as he thought, as he wondered, what new danger, what new threat, had descended upon, had befallen, his pack, his kingdom.