"Even if you catch them, you can't do anything to them." Roselia's words were a direct challenge to his determination. His glare narrowed into slits, resembling roaring waves in an ocean. He rose to his feet, his large shadow swallowing her tiny presence.
"You're protecting your attacker." Cruden analyzed the situation efficiently, watching her eyes widen briefly and then, lowered.
Roselia fingered her necklace, rolling the paperclip between her fingertips. The material was rusted over, but he recognized it from using it in his everyday work. He noted the coping mechanism, but wondered who gave her such atrocious and cheap jewelry.
Emeralds would suit Roselia better.
"I'm allergic to a few things," Roselia elaborated.
"I'm aware." Cruden slid his hands into his pockets, hiding his tightened fists digging crescent moons into his skin. He was the kind of man to face a storm with a straight face and stare in the presence of chaos. In this world, nothing phased him. Nothing provoked him. All thanks to his cruel childhood.
"You… looked into me?" Roselia asked.
"Of course." Cruden tilted his head, a tendril of hair falling over his vision. He saw her ponder her next words. "I wouldn't have married you without a background check."
Cruden's fingers curled around the box in his pocket, but decided to not pursue it. He exhaled sharply, causing her to flinch. He frowned deeply, his patience thinning. "Not a fan of loud noises?"
Roselia didn't respond. She turned her back to him, curling under the hospital blankets that he paid for, in a room that cost a fortune per night, but she laid here quietly.
"I made sure everything you consumed didn't contain any of your allergens, especially the life-triggering ones," Cruden continued. "I've personally tasted everything fed to you, poisoned or not."
Roselia tensed, wondering why he'd do something so foolish for a stranger. He was giving her a whiplash. One second, he behaved like the rumors whispering of his madness. Another minute, he pretended to care for her like an attentive husband.
"Which leaves one conclusion," Cruden finalized. "The maid poisoned you, so we tortured her for information."
Roselia trembled. She remained in her curled position. The maid was innocent, she knew it from the bottom of her heart. If she spoke up now, she'd be giving up the name of who poisoned her. By now, she already knew he no longer cared for her.
What kind of father would poison his own daughter? On her wedding day, no less.
"You'd let an innocent woman go down for the crimes of someone you hold so dear, you'd accept their attempt on your life?" Cruden snarled, turning her around forcibly. She screamed in protest, shoving him away, but his grip remained. He glowered down at her, but froze upon the sight of her watery eyes.
"He's my father!" Roselia cried out. She grabbed his shirt and yanked him closer. He was rigid as a bolder, processing her words. "He's my Papa… You can't do anything to him… You mustn't."
"And why's that?" Cruden murmured, sliding his palm upon the hands holding onto him for dear life. She was cold to the touch, like a corpse. She pulled back instantly as if his caress had burned her. She was so close, he could smell the mind-numbing scent of the hospital shampoo and conditioner.
"Because… I forgive him," Roselia confessed. "Please, don't hurt him."
Cruden rose to his full height. He straightened his collar, smoothing out the wrinkles as if it hadn't ignited a fire from within his chest, clawing to get out. With each second that passed, he could feel his wolf pushing the boundaries of control.
'Kill that bastard!' Tobias snarled, pacing back and forth impatiently, his canines revealed in fury. 'We must make an example out of him.'
Cruden considered the idea briefly. Then, he saw Roselia's crestfallen expression, her devastating features beckoning calamities should she cry. The plan flew out the window.
"Cecil Fiore has injured the potential Luna of the Tiberias Pack," Cruden stated, his voice lacking sympathy and emotion. "We will take this as a declaration of war."
"No!" Roselia shrieked, flinging herself out of the bed, and grabbing onto him. "Take me instead, please—"
"Roselia." Cruden's tone stopped her dead in her tracks. He calmly lowered his face closer to hers, so she didn't have to crane her neck. He gripped her chin as she shivered against his caress. "Never beg a man for anything. Especially not me."
And without another word, Cruden stormed out, a mission in mind. She screamed after him, racing for the doors, but he slammed it shut in her face, much to her aggravated banging.
No one messed with Pack Tiberias and got away with it.
- - - - -
In Cruden's presence, werewolves and humans cowered to the walls, obediently glancing down at their feet. No one dared to meet his gaze for years. Just his scent alone could send grown men trembling in their shoes.
"Alpha Tiberias," they greeted in a low whisper with their left hand pressed to their chest in loyalty, bowing their head in obedience.
Cruden made sure to look at each and every one of them, even the lowest member of his pack. Everyone was useful to him. Everyone had a role. He rarely acknowledged his members, but he made sure they felt seen. Felt heard from. They'd never be able to hide a secret in his presence. Nothing slipped past him—everyone knew that.
"I checked the security cameras," Kallum said the second he saw his older brother. "Cecil Fiore fed his daughter some sort of candy. My close sources tell me he's given it to her since childhood. It's her favorite. We assume that could be the poison."
"I know." Cruden brushed past Kallum and headed towards the car, where his secretary, Sebastian, already opened the doors for him. "We're to teach him a lesson."
Kallum entered the passenger seat, leaning back and pondering over the benefits and consequences. Pro, Tiberias Pack would once again assert their power over the werewolf world. Now that the western continent had declared a Werewolf King half a century ago, everyone was beginning to wonder who would be seizing the throne in this country. Con, Tiberias Pack would be spitting on one of the oldest Werewolf packs in the world, House Fiore.
"To Pack Fiore's pack house," Cruden instructed Sebastian who dutifully nodded his head and started the vehicle.
Pack Fiore hailed from a regal bloodline that once served the Moon Goddess. Their names were forged into the treaty signed between human and supernatural centuries ago when the world had been plunged into darkness and war, fighting for control of the lands.
In the end, a treaty was signed. Vampires and werewolves reigned over humans. The era of the West persecuting and murdering werewolves had long come to an end with the rise of a Werewolf King.
"We're targeting Cecil Fiore?" Kallum finally asked, watching his older brother through the rearview mirror. Sebastian sped down the city streets, whirling past cars with expertise unbefitting of a regular secretary. "This would look both good and bad for us."
Cruden didn't respond. He glowered out the window, pondering over Roselia's adoration for her father. Cecil Fiore had thrown his daughter to the wolves, and she barely made it out alive. Then, he tried to kill her with his own two hands, and she still clung on to him.
The love between a father and his child was something that Cruden would never understand. Cruden grew up with a son of a b*tch that'd beat the Cruden boys any chance he got. Breathed too loud? Smacked to the floor. Talked too low? Socked in the stomach. There was not a single moment of peace and silence in the Tiberias Household.
"We're here." Sebastian stopped the car, just as he noticed Tiberias packmen already waiting outside of the Fiore Pack House, located on the edge of their town.
Hostility filled the air as Sebastian opened the car door for Kallum and Cruden. The Tiberias men were already on a standoff with Fiore wolves, many of which had already shifted into full wolf form. They growled and snarled, baring their fangs in warning, but the Tiberias man remained in human silhouettes. Tiberias wolves were unflinching in the wake of one of the most well-trained foot soldiers this country had witnessed.
Cecil Fiore was already at the front door, arms crossed behind his back, his mouth dipped in discontent.
"To what do I owe this displeasure, Alpha Tiberian?" Cecil demanded, gesturing to the men scattered across his front lawn.
"Tiberian?" Kallum snarled at the blatant disrespect, mispronouncing their name for all to see.
Cruden assessed the situation. Where was Cecil's oldest son? The soon-to-be Alphas always accompanied his father like a lost pup. Cruden glanced around, his men unfazed by the insult, for they knew better than to act without their Alpha's command. A single word was all it took for heads to fall and lives at stake.
"Where's the antidote?" Cruden calmly asked, hands in his pocket.
"For what?" Cecil feigned ignorance, even though they could both smell the heavy stench of distilled herbs in the air.
"For the poison you fed your only daughter, Roseline." Cruden's words were barely above a whisper, but everyone flinched at the delivery.
A vein popped on Cecil's wrinkled face. "Her name's Roselia."
"Was it now?" Cruden humored, revealing a cold smile. "Could've sworn it was Roselind."
Cecil's left eye twitched. "Seeing as you don't even remember her name, you don't need the antidote—"
"I only wanted to finish consummating my marriage," Cruden continued.
Cecil opened his mouth, but a figure behind him lunged.
Cruden sidestepped. He laughed under his breath, turning to glance at Cecil who gritted his teeth as the young man nearly onto his face. There it was. Cecil's only son.
Kallum growled, seizing the man by his collar, and roughly kicked him behind the leg. He dropped to his knees in front of Cruden in disbelief, earning a disappointed sigh from Cecil, and warning snarls from the Fiore wolves.
"Release our heir!" they seethed, saliva dripping from their mouth as one of the larger wolves leaped forward.
"An heir for your heiress," Cruden stated. "It would've been your life instead, had your stupid son not stepped in for you."
Cecil gritted his teeth. "She deserves to die."
"And yet, she begged for me to save your life," Cruden mused. Cecil's left eye twitched."I don't have all day, old man."
"We can either do it the easy way or the wrong way," Kallum stated, drawing the gun strapped to his suit and pressing it against his hostage's temple. This wasn't the plan he intended, but he was not the kind of man to go against his brother in public.
Kallum would follow Cruden to hell if requested.
Cecil scoffed at the dramatics, reaching into his slack pockets and pulling out a single vial of medicine. "It seems Tiberias's scientific advances are far behind Fiore's."
"We're military men, not mad scientists," Kallum coldly stated, lips curling in disgust.
"All brute and no brains," Cecil said, irritably handing over the antidote to Cruden who glanced down at the solution.
Cruden scoffed and turned on his heels, brushing past the irked wolves and offended Fiore men. "And did that brain of yours save your daughter from marrying a man older than you?"
Cecil visibly paled, his fingers curling into fists.
Cruden's lifeless eyes met Cecil's enraged glare. "Brute force saved her."