When Polly left with the cop, Rafael's lips curled subtly, and a youthful male voice uttered in his mind.
"All done, Alpha Rafael." The voice in his head dropped, and Rafael seamlessly lowered his guard at the assuring voice of his trusted warrior. The innocence in his eyes shifted ominously, a dark glint materializing in those iridescent orbs, and his restrained aura was instantly all over the place.
Through the mind-link, he responded. "There's one more job I need you to do for me." He rubbed his nape, as if to release tension before instructing, "I need you to burn down a certain building while I handle things here, everything in it must crumble to ash before they return. Everything."
His lips tilted like a true villain after uttering his last mission for the day, and his trusted warrior did not need to prolong the conversation in order to discern which house needed to be brought down.
The voice in his head affirmed obediently, and the mind-link ended.
Rafael took off his cap and combed his fingers lazily into his silky dark hair. For a split second, he actually believed he was going to get murdered by that angry woman, and she probably would have kicked him in the balls if his identity did in fact come to light.
She was a hundred times more feisty than he pictured her to be, and every nerve inside of him screamed to just hold her in his arms, even if he could just feel her for a second. His wolf was excited, and so was he, cause after a year of occasionally following her about and monitoring her activities, this would probably be their first encounter.
His mate. His Luna finally noticed him.
Maybe he did go overboard and killed her ex-fiance in the most brutal ways, but in his defense, his anger was at its peak, and the dude deserved to die. Not only did he get into a relationship with his mate, the impudence of a man had the audacity to cheat on her, and like that wasn't enough to tick his already foul mood, the disgrace of a man tried to forcefully get into his mate– obviously, his wolf would never allow it.
Last night, he was more than willing to admit that he was not himself when he killed that man. The fury that coursed through his veins was unlike anything he's ever experienced, more shattering than when he found out that his mate already had someone in her life.
Shit! She even saved his number as a stalker, was he really stalking? He's never done that to anyone before.
Sighing deeply at the unintended impression he must have given to his mate, Rafael returned to the chief militants office, more annoyed than he previously was.
The chief militant who was sitting still on his seat, as if he had been tied in place with an invisible rope, was basically sweating the minute Rafael stepped in. On his table lay an array of all kinds of guns, fully loaded, yet he lacked the nerve to reach for one.
Even if he did, the monster in front of him would fire two bullets into his skull before he could actually lay a hand on any of the firearms.
How? The chief militant didn't want to know, nor was he ready to become an experiment to his own curiosity.
Instead, he swallowed his inexistent saliva as Rafael made himself comfortable on a chair, and the milkman picked one of the guns on the table.
He said, "Sorry about that, we had to cut our meeting halfway through. Now, where were we? Ah, yes, I was contemplating on which gun would create the nicest hole on your head. Let's see… this would be beautiful to test, instant death, right?" He admired one of the guns like it was a pretty little toy he couldn't wait to play with.
The chief militant, who was an average-looking man, could not say a word, feeling utterly paralyzed by Rafael's presence. His office suddenly felt colder, suffocating. Rafael's rare visits were harbingers of doom, reserved for those who had crossed him unlikely, but the chief militant was clueless about what he had done to deserve this frightening visitation.
Any attempts to call for backup were fruitless, because the last person he'd want to mess with was Rafael Demetriuo. Heir of the Demetriuo family to be precise, the most influential family in not just Dunecliff, but across the continent. Yet, no one knows them physically despite their popularity.
Their fame was aimed at their businesses, not their personal life. One would easily walk past a Demetriuo in the street without knowing– it was that serious.
Currently, the only son of the powerful Demetriuo is dressed as a milkman, yet no one can tell.
"You… haven't told me exactly what I've done, sir Rafael!" The chief militant tried to lead the conversation to a peaceful layne, but he soon regretted it.
"What you have done?" Rafael's eyes dimmed at the question, and he took a quick scan of the vicinity, "is this office soundproofed?"
"Mr Rafael," the chief militant cleared his uneasy throat and softly implored, "if my station has made any kind of terrible mistake, then please accept my sincerest apologies."
"Does it look like I came all the way here to listen to you plead?" Rafael's voice dripped with menace as he leveled the gun at the chief militant, "she's been here since the rising of dawn, pleading her innocence in your damn station, but you dickheads won't let her leave! She's presently stressed because of your incompetence, why should I spare any of you for torturing my woman at this ungodly hour?"
"Your… woman, you say?" The chief militant could feel his warm blood turn cold. His reaction was almost laughable, and it took him a while to process the fact that this dangerous citizen referred to Polly as 'his woman.'
Since when was Polly involved with not just any man, but the son of Demetriou??
"I…I didn't know she was your–"
"She will be." Rafael asserted without hesitation, "what I just said is between you and me. Drop the case, and don't bug her with the death of a lowlife."
"Of… of course, Mr Rafael." The chief militant could only approve, knowing he was trapped in all angles, and fortunately for him, the man in front of him was satisfied with his response.
"Now that everything's cleared up, my services are no longer needed here." Rafael rose from his seat. He sauntered towards where the chief militant sat and gave him a light pat on his tensed shoulder, then he leaned down to whisper.
"Next time I come back here, I shall bring a coffin with your name on it. Don't try anything dirty cause I let you off the hook, else…" Rafael intentionally withheld the rest of his phrase and pulled away.
"Enjoy your milk."
He walked out of the office, and only then did the chief militant find the courage to breathe.