Chapter 26 - Chapter 26: Even Wolves weep

Spending the whole day alone gave Marcus plenty of time to think about the past. His mind wandered through old memories, some he welcomed, others he wished he could forget. He thought about his father. His father had been a big man, strong, respected, and a little scary. When Marcus and his brothers were young, they looked up to him. They wanted to grow up just like him. He had a powerful presence, full of confidence, but somehow, he still felt like home, safe and warm. He often took them hunting and fishing. He also made them help with chores, like chopping wood or working in the fields with the humans who worked for him. Sometimes, he turned things into a contest between the brothers, rewarding the winner with a pat on the back or a kind word. It made them want to work harder and rely on him more. As the boys got older, the competition between them became more serious. They didn't just want small praise anymore. They wanted real respect. They wanted their father to treat them like men, to ask for their opinions, and include them in decisions. Their father noticed this and changed how he handled them. He started asking for their thoughts, explained things to them, took them out for drinks, and let them join important meetings. He also gave them advice on how to handle their responsibilities and live with honor. Marcus remembered how much it meant to earn his father's approval. Sometimes, just a look of disappointment from him was enough to make them change their behavior. Their father raised them in a way that made them strong, but also brought some problems. Competing for his attention led to arguments and jealousy. Still, he taught them to stick together no matter what. It was always the brothers against the world. Until the day a little girl came into their lives. Amal. After having five boys, their mother finally gave birth to a daughter. This small, fragile girl suddenly appeared among the big, rough brothers, bringing joy and peace in a way none of them expected. She made them laugh, softened them, and gave them something new to care about, something beyond their father's approval. And just like that, they started competing for her attention too. She was full of mischief and charm, and somehow, she had them all completely wrapped around her little finger. Marcus decided to put aside those memories but her voice calling his name echoed in his mind. "Marcus! Marcus!" "What is it?" Whenever she wanted something she would wrap herself around one of his legs. "Mother said I will marry whoever I love but father and eldest brother have to approve." That was the tradition but she was only eight. "Yes." "Then can I marry Star? Please." That was her horse, which their father once killed when she disobeyed him. She loved the creature a lot and was heartbroken for days. "Yes. When you grow up you will marry a man of your choice." He assured her. She was so happy about it that she jumped around, missing the word "man" but that joy later came to an end and he looked into her tearful eyes. She still held onto his leg but this time not because she was small. She had grown into a young beautiful lady, but she was on her knees begging him. "Please Marcus. Please don't let them take me. You promised I would marry a man of my choice. Please talk to my father. Do something!" She begged. "I will. Stand up now." "No!" She looked up, her eyes showing horror. "Promise me first. Promise me they won't make me a breeder." "They won't. I won't let that happen." He said knowing very well he didn't have the authority to go against his father. He tore his leg away from his sister's grasp and went to find his father. "Father, what is going on?" He asked him. "Be more clear." His father said seated on his throne. "I thought we didn't do the breeding thing." "We didn't but now we will. Our race needs us." "It is your daughter," Marcus said standing up against his father for the first time. "And that is why. There are many pureblood males but we don't have pureblood females as much. I will let her breed with someone of her choosing." His father explained calmly. "That man is not her breedmate." "Marcus. As a king, I have a responsibility toward my people, not only my family. She will breed for the benefit of our people. We need to be stronger to stand against humans. Look what they are doing? Populating themselves. Even if we tried, we wouldn't be able to eradicate them easily." "You don't want to eradicate them," Marcus spoke the honest truth to his father. His father wanted control over the humans. "Let Amal be. I will become a breeder." "We need a purebred female." His father said. "I am sure you can find me one, or all of them if you wish. I will do it. Release Amal from this." His father watched him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "I'll think about it." He said. What happened after that he didn't want to think about for now. It was enough for today to turn his hot blood cold. Not even the sweet female scent that came to evade his senses was enough to make him burn again. She was here. She walked straight inside as if in a hurry and pulled the lever only halfway. Then she stepped within his zone and placed a pen and a paper on the ground before walking back and releasing the chains. "Write your name for me." She said, "And If I don't?" She pulled a foreign-looking pistol from her bag. "Then I will try my latest invention." She was not playing around today. Her eyes weren't cold. They were burning. What happened? He was curious. Would she pull the trigger? Could she do such a thing? It would be good to know. "Then try." He said. She aimed right at the side of his stomach where his old infected wound was already hurting. Pain shot through him, stealing his breath away. "I still have many bullets to try. Now write your name, in your language." She said, His language? He grabbed his stomach where the blood seeped, trying not to get angry despite the pain. It was a different kind of pain. Not obsidian. This was something that caused him pain even with small movements. He hadn't seen it before. "Do you enjoy tending to me?" He asked, trying to keep his voice sturdy. "Talk less, king Marcus, and do as I say." He went to pick up the book and pencil, the thing in his body stabbing him in every movement. For a moment he considered tearing it apart but if he was going to pay her back, he needed to think long-term. He looked at the empty page. Why did she want him to write his name in his language? She must have found out something she wanted an answer to. He contemplated whether to write rubbish or reveal their language. If he wanted her to soften toward him, perhaps he should give her what she wanted. He wrote his name in Targas. The werewolf language, then threw her the pen and notebook. She picked them up and stared at the letters. Her face remained passive as she closed the book. She looked between his face and then at his wound. "Since I am already testing, perhaps I will come back tomorrow to collect information on how badly it hurts." "Maybe you could offer me tea since I volunteered." He told her. "Do you like it with honey or poison?" "Just brew it with your own hands, princess." She stiffened for some odd reason. Pink colored her cheeks and her heart accelerated. Why? Without another word, she hurried away. Once she left, he could finally grimace in pain. He opened the bandage, unable to endure the stabbing he decided to go through a lot of pain once and then let it go by over. He dug the wound with his own fingers, his face twisting with pain, he reached deeper and deeper and grabbed something sharp, spearlike but with blade winges, and pulled it out cutting through his already swollen flesh. Then with a groan, he fell back, panting from all the pain, knowing he wouldn't heal so easily now. Today the woman made another mistake. She didn't kill him.