Chapter Eight- The reason behind the war

Dante’s POV

Seated behind the massive mahogany desk in my office, I exuded an image of calculated authority, wrapped in the guise of elegance and danger. A black tailored suit hugged my tall frame, the crisp white shirt underneath contrasting sharply with the blood-red tie knotted at my throat. My white wavy hair cascaded around my face in loose, deliberate chaos, and my golden eyes scanned the stack of documents that required my attention—mostly matters of trade, territory disputes, and funding for the upcoming summit of the High Clans.

That’s when my phone rang. Alec.

I set the document down, lifting the phone to my ear after a few rings. “What is it?”

On the other end, Alec smirked, though I couldn’t see it—I could hear it in his tone. “Your Highness,” he began, his voice low and steady, “we followed the girl like you asked. Near the lake, a group of werewolves tracked her. We eliminated them, but we don’t know if others were watching. We can’t say for sure if they managed to send word before we got to them.”

A surge of fury curled in my gut, heating my blood. So close to her home. That’s far too bold. Too calculated. The werewolves wouldn’t have risked that unless they were certain she was a carrier. And that made everything infinitely more dangerous—for her and for me.

My jaw tightened as I reclined in my chair, running a hand through my hair. The weight of centuries of leadership and vengeance pressed on my shoulders, and yet, nothing made my blood boil more than the thought of losing the last viable carrier to the very beasts who had already taken too much.

“Do you need additional guards?” I asked, trying to keep the edge out of my voice. Alec and Jake were both capable, but this wasn’t just about muscle. This was about leverage, politics, war.

Alec's voice returned, infused with his usual smirk. “Do we need extra guards, sweetie?” I could practically hear Jake’s scowl through the line. He likely rolled his eyes and cursed Alec under his breath.

Jake’s voice came next, cool and clipped. “Tell the prince, no. We can handle it for now. If the situation escalates, I’ll make the call.”

Alec enjoyed poking at Jake's pride. It was part of their dynamic. The two of them had been with me for centuries—Alec, my elite captain for nearly 1,500 years, and Jake, my vice-captain for a little over a thousand. Both were sired directly from me. Loyal. Dangerous. Deadly in sunlight.

“Fine,” I said. “Stay close to her. Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” they said in unison before the line disconnected.

I sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the situation pressing harder. The girl—Rachel—was more important than she realized. And time was running out.

A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. “Enter,” I called.

Clark stepped in, holding a thick folder in his hand. “Sir, I have the information you requested.”

I gestured for him to approach, and he handed me the folder. I opened it and scanned the contents, absorbing every detail.

Her name: Rachel Cole.

Age: 24.

Height: 1.65 meters.

Hair: Black, long, straight.

Eyes: Green.

Figure: Curvy.

Occupation: Cook at her mother’s restaurant.

Status: Single.

Family: Both parents alive. One brother—Ryan—injured in a car accident six months ago. Now paralyzed.

Financial status: Struggling. She entered the underground fighting circuit to help with bills and medical expenses.

And there it was. Her maternal line—Blackwell—a known bloodline of carriers. That blood had been hunted for centuries, diluted over time, nearly wiped out by werewolves in the last 200 years. But she was the real thing. The fight I witnessed at the club confirmed it—she was strong. Agile. Fierce. Her aura pulsed with dormant power, just waiting to awaken. She was the last hope for my bloodline to continue—my claim to the throne depended on her.

“She gave a clear sign at the club,” I muttered, half to myself. “She doesn’t know it yet, but she felt the bond stir.”

I shut the file and looked up at Clark. “Keep this under wraps. No one finds out who she is—not until I say so.”

Clark nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.” He handed me a second folder. “Also—there’s this.”

I took it and flipped it open. His next words were already confirming my growing suspicions.

“The werewolves made their move at the last bidding event. They challenged every lot we placed bids on, trying to undermine us. It’s coordinated.”

I leaned forward, eyes narrowing as my grip tightened on the edge of my desk.

“Push the prices up. Force them to spend more than they planned. Then pull out just before the close.”

Clark nodded. “Understood.”

A slow, dark grin spread across my face. “Let’s see how long they last when they bleed from both pockets and throats.”

Clark gave a small bow and turned to leave.

My eyes drifted to the cityscape visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The glowing skyline of Baine spread out like a canvas of opportunity—and blood.

They took everything from me once. I’ll burn their world to ash before I let them do it again.

Two thousand years ago, the wolves violated our ancient peace pact. The Alpha’s son, Clive, committed an unforgivable sin—he slaughtered my wife. My unborn child. A carrier I had loved. Or so I thought.

Sarah had been everything I dreamed of—beautiful, gentle, with the rare Blackwell blood. I fell for her lies easily. Her betrayal only became clear after her death. She had been Clive’s mate all along—using me to gain power, immortality. She never loved me. She only wanted to become queen.

When she rejected Clive, her true mate, he snapped. Lost to madness, his wolf overtook him.

I returned from a summit to find carnage. Blood. Death. My guards dead. My wife lying in ruins. Her throat slashed, her body torn open. The scent of werewolf reeked in the air.

Clive stood over her, laughing. Blood dripping from his claws and mouth.

I lost it.

My power surged, ancient and wrathful. I ripped him apart limb by limb, crushing his bones, tearing his throat out as he screamed.

Then I hunted the rest. I led my horde through the hunting packs, killing without mercy. But Nash, Clive’s bastard son, was spared—spirited away by cowardly survivors.

He became my greatest enemy. And now, the leader of the Hunters Pack.

For centuries we’ve fought a war of blood and deception. And the carriers—they became the battlefield.

That’s why Rachel matters. She is the key to the future. And I won’t lose her. Not to the wolves. Not to fate.

I stood, straightening my jacket. My reflection in the glass looked every bit the ruler I had become. Cold. Ruthless. Determined.

But beneath that—there was something else stirring.

A flicker of emotion.

Desire? Possessiveness?

No. Not again.

I won’t let feelings blind me this time.

Still, I couldn’t shake her image from my mind. Rachel—scarred, defiant, beautiful.

She would be mine.

One way or another.

I turned from the window, the city humming beneath me, and made my way toward the door.

Time to see the girl for myself.