Second Chance: Fall For My Ex-Mate's Uncle

Chapter 6 Alpha of Bloody Claw (1)

“We’re here,” the driver announced as he peered into the rear view mirror reflecting back the dark and brooding Alpha Rowan.

The alpha had been staring out of the black tinted window, deep in thought, for once not paying attention to his surroundings. He didn’t want to be here. The very idea of meeting his brother put his wolf’s hackles up and bloodlust like no other. It was the same with everyone in his bloodline.

Rowan was the Alpha King’s illegitimate son, the unwanted one, the one his siblings and others had treated like dirt until he became infamously known as a vicious alpha of the Bloody Claw pack. No matter; he had a job to do. “Give me the report again,” he ordered, accepting the report from his beta, Voss.

“I can already smell a strange scent,” Voss added absentmindedly, inhaling deeply beside the slightly lowered car window.

Rowan hummed in response as he reread the details and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” Dropping the papers on the car seat between them, he opened the door and stared up at the pack house, where his brother was waiting for him on the porch with a grim expression. Alpha Balkin was not pleased to see him, but he had no say in the matter.

Although Balkin was of pure royal blood, Rowan was in his father’s higher graces now that he was in charge of such a formidable pack with only the best that served him. He’d made a point of resolving issues swiftly, even if that meant spilling blood, which put less strain on the Alpha King, who was getting on in his years. Rowan didn’t like the fucker, but this was all a part of his plan.

“No need to greet me, Balkin. Where are they?” Alpha Rowan smirked, going straight to business, ignoring his brother’s glare. He’d dropped his title purposely to watch Balkin’s loathing intensify.

The man was huge, just under his height, muscular, but there was also a bit of podge around his stomach now. Balkin was one of his older siblings, almost forty now, which most likely added to the sour expression he always wore upon seeing Rowan. His role was far superior; Rowan held more respect and fear than Balkin, and he was ten years younger.

Rowan sighed, staring at the cell that held werewolves who murdered their kind. Usually, an interrogation revolved around a few clipped fingers, but the report stated these pack members couldn’t recollect anything that they did the entire day the crimes were committed.

“I never wanted to kill him,” the werewolf sniffled. He was a young man, twenty-two, and he’d killed one of his close friends- a friend who was training to become the next Gamma of the pack.

“And you don’t remember killing him?” Rowan questioned, dark gaze flicking to the others in the cell who had similar statements. They were curled into a ball or staring vacantly at the wall where they sat against the opposite wall, looking utterly hopeless and in despair.

The werewolf shook his head, tears trickling down his cheeks that he swiftly wiped away with his arm.

It was clear they were telling the truth. ‘Voss, let’s check out the border.’ He mind-linked his beta and turned away.

‘Shouldn’t they be released, alpha?’ Voss questioned, following Rowan ascending the stairs to the main packhouse again.

‘That’s out of our jurisdiction. It is up to Balkin if they are to be released,’ Rowan replied. If it was his pack, he wouldn’t need to question his pack members. Although Bloody Claw is the largest and most fearful pack, Rowan knew every single member well. As an alpha, that is how it should be.

Rowan wouldn’t treat any of them as criminals. None of Balkin's pack members ran away, and all of them woke up confused and discovered the body of either a loved one or somebody else in the pack.

Walking through the pack house, members of Balkin's Infinite Moon pack instantly halted upon seeing him, bared their necks in respect, and scrambled away in the opposite direction. Many whispered among themselves about him, assuming he couldn’t hear them, but his senses were heightened even more so than the usual werewolf’s. It didn’t matter; it kept them out of his path.

“So?” Balkin strode towards him, his pheromones threatening, trying to prove he was the ultimate alpha and far superior to Rowan.

It did not work. Balkin’s pheromones bounced off him. Voss, who was his beta, couldn’t stand it. He bared his neck to him so he could see the top of his dirty blonde hair, almost lowering into a full bow.

Rowan arched his eyebrow at his brother and allowed his own surge forward. Balkin stumbled back a step as though he’d been punched in the gut. His brother's wolf glowered at him with red eyes, but the alpha forcibly dropped his gaze, visibly shaking as he faced Rowan.

Rowan clicked his tongue before brushing past him. “They were manipulated into killing the pack members. There was also the slight smell of crushed herbs-”

“Don’t be ludicrous!” Balkin interrupted, grabbing Rowan by the arm as they stopped on the porch again. He’d already figured out where Rowan was going with this. The alpha glanced around them, overly aware of how public they were.

Rowan responded to him in a mind link between them only. ‘The smell matches the description. They were manipulated, and you know what species has mind control. Until told otherwise, this information should remain only between your leaders.’

‘You do not tell me what I can and cannot-’

Rowan glared at his brother, pheromones threatening to crush Balkin’s windpipe. The alpha struggled to breathe and instantly let go of Rowan’s arm. He nodded, his body tense, veins straining against his skin as he was forced to act submissively to Rowan.

The Bloody Claw alpha returned to his car, snorting as he felt Balkin’s heated stare piercing his back. “To the border,” Rowan instructed as he slipped inside the vehicle's backseat.

If what he’d been piecing together was true, and he was 99% correct, then they were going to have a big issue at hand. The herby smell, the manipulation of the mind—it was a witch, a creature known to have vanished after the war. If it was only one witch, then they could eliminate her instantly. His sixth sense told him this was just the beginning, and it was yet to be proven false.

At the borders, tracking the witch's scent, Rowan trailed after Voss, who was in his wolf form. The alpha remained in his pristine suit, uncaring about his shiny shoes getting dirty in the mud or puddles along the side of the road or in the forests. The beta ran ahead, mind-linking the alpha about the scent growing stronger. It didn’t deter away much from the border, but at times, it dipped between both packs’ territory.

They’d traced the entire border of the territory and tracked the scent elsewhere until they arrived at a dead end, the smell vanishing. Rowan leaned against the town car, staring at the large grey wolf, his beta, now returning to his side.

Usually, Rowan would use the Bloody Claw’s trackers; they were the best in all the packs, but this investigation had to remain quiet for now. Besides, his keen senses were just as good as any trackers, but their numbers would have decreased the time to get the job done.

It was already dark; he’d spent far too long in his brother’s territory.

‘Car picked them up?’ Voss suggested about the diminishing scent.

‘Possible.’ The alpha tossed a bag full of clothes at the beta before opening his car door, pausing when he heard the engine of a car speeding down the road. Normally, he wouldn’t pay attention to a vehicle, but something about this one left the alpha in a trance. It was just a car, yet it held his attention like a damned beacon of light was cast on it. Voss followed the alpha's gaze but was already walking back into the forest to shift back into his human form.

The black SUV zoomed past him, and like scissors to a taut string, Rowan snapped out of his daze and shook his head. He was about to lower himself into the car when he saw a flash of brown out of the corner of his eye. A deer sprung from the woods and directly in front of the vehicle. The driver hit the brakes and swerved to the side, its wheels squealing in protest, and the car horn pressed, rousing the surrounding wildlife as the car flipped onto its side. The deer continued without injury.

Rowan slammed the car door shut and sprinted towards the toppled-over car. ‘Voss, I need your help,’ he mind-linked his beta, the urgency in his voice slipping through his mind.

‘Coming!’

Skidding to a halt, he bent down and pushed the car back into an upright position. The horn was still going off, so the driver must have been injured. Rowan yanked the door open, discovering the driver was indeed injured. He took him by the shoulders and let his head flop back onto the cushioned seat.

A frown tugged between Rowan’s eyebrows as the mixed smells of sweat and blood dispersed to one so strong it was like a collar and lead, tugging him forward to follow the smell. It was a fragrance so pure and sweet dancing across his nose, an enchantment of dew-kissed meadows and wildflowers, crisp yet honeyed.

Rowan’s beast stirred within him, paying attention to the smell. Before the alpha could lean into the scent and search for its owner, he snapped out of his daze.

“Everyone okay?” Rowan peered at the others in the car, noting their panicked expressions and racing heartbeats. Well, they were in an accident.

“Thank you, we’re fine. No need to worry, ha ha ha,” the man in the passenger seat answered though his response was a little too anxious.

Something wasn’t right here. Rowan could feel it in his gut, along with that fragrance from before that kept wrapping around him, calling to him.

Rowan’s gaze scanned over the men in the backseat until they landed on a young woman between them and were struck by her beauty.

Her eyes were like a mirrored lake, one trying to drown him in colours of green and blue. Her mascara had run down her cheeks, and a red mark was turning into a bruise on the side of her sharp cheekbone. The way she was seated was tense, her arms at an odd angle behind her. When Rowan’s gaze flicked to hers again, he watched her eyes widen, pleading with him.

She was in trouble. The smell of fear, now so apparent, wrapped around him like a noose; it was almost suffocating.

Rowan stepped back from the vehicle, his jaw tensing when he heard a slight whimper from the woman’s throat and a hushed threat from one of the men. "Be quiet."

Don’t worry, darling, I’m not leaving you.