004: Triumph

Dexter

I stick a cigarette in my mouth before cupping a hand around it to light it.

Things seem to be going according to plan. I’ve taken the first step to ruin Victor Taylor and it’s only a matter of time before he finds out.

The envelopes were delivered about an hour ago. As per my calculation, shit’s about to hit the fan pretty soon.

I stare at the view before my eyes. Tall trees, yards and yards of freshly cut green grass. Rose bushes. Intricately carved fountains. I have it all. It’s funny how sometimes, your life can change in the blink of an eye. One day, I had nothing, and the next, I had everything I could’ve ever wanted.

My phone begins vibrating in my pocket and a small smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Finally. I thought he’d never call. I reach into it with my right hand after transferring the lit cigarette to the left. It’s an unknown number. I know it’s him. I made sure to leave my number for him to call. I couldn’t risk missing his rage.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” he says to me. His voice is hoarse and he sounds like he has a hand wrapped around his throat, causing him to choke on all his words. “You fucking bastard!”

I take a drag of my cigarette. “I’m glad we’re on the same page now, Victor. Only, the way you now feel about me is only a fraction of what I’ve always felt toward you.”

“Lara was innocent!” he argues. “She didn’t have anything to do with this! I told you a million times, you fuck, that your mother’s death was an accident. Things were never meant to go down the way they did!”

I continue taking drags of my cigarette. It’s remarkable how I’ve managed to stay calm about this years after it’s happened. I never thought I would’ve been able to. For years, all I felt was pain when I thought about her, so much that I’d choke on it. Now, it was a different kind of pain. Evolved. Easily managed.

“What have you done!?” he booms on the other end of the line.

“This is only the beginning,” I calmly inform him. “For years, you thought you could chew people up and then shit them out, but guess what? The time of the Lycans is over. It’s coming to a very abrupt end. First, it was your friend Marvin. Now, it’s you.”

“Fuck yo—”

I hang up the phone, drop it on the ground, and then stomp on it. I don’t stop until it’s completely broken. Then, I stand back and admire my view.

I’m interrupted by someone coming up behind me and saying, “Alpha Dexter, they’re ready for you.”

“I’ll be there shortly.”

This meeting is meant to celebrate my success. Everyone seems to be going crazy about the fact that I’ve finally gotten close to destroying Victor Taylor. If I’m an artist, that man is my muse, because everything I’ve done so far—every ‘artwork’ I’ve done—was inspired by him. I always told myself that I’d become powerful enough to have the power to ruin him, and last night, that dream came true.

It was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It’s incredible how some people are born to be fooled. I built a more elaborate trap for her before I ever knew her, but the bond between us was the icing on top of the cake. Even I couldn’t have predicted it. So, what would have been weeks of work ended up being concluded in a single night, all because I somehow got her to trust me.

I didn’t even need to put in so much effort.

By doing this, I’ve prevented a very important thing: Victor won’t have any association with the Alpha of the Lycans, which is exactly what we were trying to avoid. Despite all the power he thinks he might have, he’s not an Alpha, but his daughter’s mating to the son of the Alpha would’ve changed that.

It’s a day to celebrate indeed.

I go down to the meeting’s room and am received with applauses. The meeting goes as expected, although there’s a topic that catches my attention but only briefly.

“Would you like for us to keep an eye on her? Because now that she’s exiled, she won’t be under the protection of her pack. It’ll be easy to do so.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s necessary. She’s ruined and I doubt any Lycan will offer her support. They’re vain and will do anything to preserve their reputations. She’s not a threat to us.”

After the meeting, I’m told there’s something else that requires my attention. An underground brothel has been discovered, and whenever this happens, we always tend to find out who the Lycan financing it is.

This is my job; I’m devoted to catching the corrupt Lycans who think they’re better than the rest of us one by one.

My team and I leave my house and travel to this location. I work closely with the werewolf authorities who are just as determined to set things right as I am. Lycans mostly target rogue wolves who have no pack to protect them and exploit them. It’s been happening for years, and I myself had been a victim along with my mother, who, at the ripe age of 23, when I was seven, did a gruesome death at the hands of Victor Taylor.

And I was there, watching it happen, unable to do a thing because she asked me not to get involved and save myself.

I was only a helpless child. My story isn’t different from the story of your average rogue. To be a rogue is to suffer endlessly until eventually, you succumb to the forces of nature working against you. It’s the reason why I never changed my status from a rogue. I am a rogue and will always be one. Giving my pack a pretty name won’t change what I am, which is why I prefer to be known as the Rogue Alpha.

My thoughts are dark and bleak by the time I reach the brothel. Everything is still—it’s now five in the morning, and everyone has probably gone to sleep. Jenna, the head of the werewolf authorities, is the first to leave the bus. She gestures for us to move forward.

We’re all armed and ready. An ambush is the only way to catch them off-guard and stop them from hiding evidence. The werewolf court of law is powerful and nobody can escape it, not even Lycans.

Everyone answers to it. It’s the only thing that keeps us from freely killing each other.

Technically, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m not a cop; I’m only an Alpha who works closely with the authorities due to my connections in the werewolf world. I’m more of a permanent volunteer, if that makes sense.

The bust is successful. We capture the werewolves involved—they’re just pigs who torture their own kind to please the Lycans they work for—and free the rogues being used for profit.

As I look around at the panic, I recall my own childhood. I was protected by my mother, so I never saw anything that happened behind closed doors and mostly stayed in the back, but it didn’t make things easier for me. I’d see her suffering. Felt it deep in my soul.

These places are always devoid of life.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. It’s Jenna. She’s removing her gloves with a sigh. “A good day’s work, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, it is.”

She and I have developed a kind of friendship. I don’t mind Jenna. She’s good at what she does and isn’t afraid to show it. “For a man to be mated tomorrow, you don’t seem very excited.”

Lately, there’s been too much excitement, and so I’ve focused very little on my upcoming mating to a girl that will benefit me greatly. I’ve only met her a few times, and to me, a mating is strictly business. Nothing more, nothing less. “This is me being excited.”

Jenna shakes her head. “Bastard.”

We clean up and leave the place. I’m satisfied with the progress I’ve made so far and nobody can take that away from me. Most importantly, I’m eager to see what’s next, especially where Victor Taylor is concerned.

As for his daughter, I don’t think of her once.

To me, that whole exchange was only useful for one thing.

It was strictly business. Nothing more, nothing less.