Prophesy 3: His Righteousness (The King & Alpha 3)

“That’s right. So, you’re both relieved of your duty.” Bundy folded his arms over his chest, still eyeing the vampires as if he didn’t believe them, but so far, they had told nothing but the truth.

Omor seemed to be the more vocal of the pair as he was the first to address the awkward silence. “I’m afraid, beta, that you do not have the authority to relieve us of this duty.” He glanced at his sister, and she gave him a quick nod. “Our orders come directly from the Lord of Arms.”

Omor looked Macauley dead in his eyes. “We are to guard you with our lives… or else…”

He didn’t need to finish his sentence for Macauley to understand what he meant when he let the rest of his words trail off. “Adres sent you?”

Daciana nodded, a slight smile tilting her angelic face. “It is a high honor.”

“Holy shit,” Bundy muttered. “That scary-ass guy did this? Why would he give you a protection detail?”

Macauley knew exactly why. It meant he hadn’t been the only one who felt their connection.

The war room was a large underground bunker made into the side of a steep mountain about four miles from the main compound. Taleb had it set up with the latest state-of-the-art technology, complete with satellite and black-market hacking software allowing them to gather intelligence and strategize if under attack. The bunker had been his little brother’s brilliant idea as a precaution. They’d been run off their birth land after the last war. And they all agreed that it would be best to be ready if it ever happened again.

That was many years ago. They had made quite a bit of use of it since then.

Everyone was already waiting for him when he and his betas walked inside. His eldest brother, Justice, sat at the head of the long table with the vampire king looking regal and important at his side. Wick was having a private, animated conversation with Belleron, who sat to his right. All heads turned in his direction, and discussions quickly died to complete silence. With his shoulders back and his head high, Macauley went and took his seat, third down from his AZ.

Are you okay, brother?

Macauley met Justice’s assessing blue eyes. I’m fine. Let’s get started.

Important pack members, officers, and Wick’s royal court were all in attendance and about to hang on his every word. Macauley wasn’t used to being the center of attention. His voice was dominant and held weight in this room, but he rarely needed to speak. He would always concur with Justice and Alek’s counsel since his role in the family was more of an enforcer. A worker. The AZ and his second oldest brother had to do the diplomatic traveling, and Macauley was usually required to stay home and protect the pack with Farica. Now, he had to try to explain what the fuck had happened tonight. There were only three people that could give an account, and one of them was missing.

“Mac. In your own words, as simple as you can put it, tell us exactly what happened when you were near the border tonight.” Orwin St. Charles was Wick’s lead intelligence officer. Macauley had gotten to know the older vampire well over the last several months when he’d arrived with Wick. He had several files and books spread in front of him as if he’d been researching all evening. “And please start at the beginning. The first thing you remember.”

“I remember it all.”

Macauley retold everything that happened up until Adres had presented him with an assassin’s severed head. He was careful to leave out his and Adres’s personal conversation and what he’d discovered when he caught a glimpse of his core.

He wouldn’t start out whatever it was they had building by violating Adres’s trust.

Adres stood out of sight, beyond the entrance to the tunnel that led to the holding cells below ground. He’d already recounted the events to the king and AZ in private; he wasn’t interested in talking politics or war strategy. They most likely wouldn’t appreciate his suggestion of killing any and all who had anything to do with the attack, even ones that had secondhand knowledge but did nothing. That was his irrational feelings about the attack on the young wolf.

He had all of his shields up so the other vampires could not smell that he was just on the other side of the wall inside the war room, but as he listened to Macauley tell his version of the events tonight in his deep, throaty tenor, he felt them slip when he glossed over the parts where he’d pressed Adres against the tree and he’d allowed a minuscule portion of his soul to be seen.

Zeii! What was I thinking? It was not in his character to lose control like he had… especially for a shifter he barely knew.