Sold as the Alpha King’s Breeder

Chapter 25: Back to Finish the Job

Ernest

“Ernest? Ernest, hey.** Wake up. I’m so sorry,”

I opened my eyes, Gemma’s voice filling the dark, empty space around me. I blinked, somewhat startled,

although pleasantly surprised to hear her so nearby

She always left after we had sex. Always. And I had never been man enough to stop her.

I wanted her, needed her, but I couldn’t let go of the notion that I would lose her. Part of me thought, you

know, why the hell not? She was my mate. We were meant for each other. I was hurting both of us by

pushing her away.

But another part of me knew with every fiber of my being that I would lose her.

I could live in agony and break her heart over and over if it meant saving her life.

We’d kept it a secret, even from Maeve. Maeve would push, and push, and push us to make it official if

she knew. The only person I had ever confided in was Aaron.

And all the sudden he was at the foot of my bed.

“Aaron?” I sat up, the sheets falling over my bare chest. I realized quite quickly that I was as naked as

the day I was born. I moved my foot beneath the covers, my boxers dragging under the sheets because

they were still wrapped around one ankle. And I noticed, as I scrunched my toes, that the lacey blue pair

of underwear Gemma had been wearing, briefly, was stuffed in the sheets near the end of the mattress

as well.

I blushed, then Gemma blushed, and Aaron quickly turned away as I gingerly reached far beneath the

covers to retrieve the evidence of what we had been up to only an hour before.

But there was no smug smile on his face. Gemma’s blush faded as I quickly, and discreetly, tossed her

her underwear, which she shimmied into without even blinking.

Gemma looked up at me as she smoothed the fabric of her skirt, her neck moving as she swallowed.

She looked scared to death.

“What’s going on? Is someone hurt?” I looked from Gemma to Aaron, adrenaline prickling my fingertips

as I threw the sheets back and stood, not caring that I was flashing everyone as I hastily pulled my

boxers up to my waist.

“Ernest, I-“Gemma was in tears. She was trembling. She looked at Aaron, a silent plea etched all over

her face. I looked at the clock on the far wall, the hands barely visible in the darkened room.

“What time is it? For the love of the Goddess, will someone turn on a light?”

“No, it stays dark,” Aaron said with grave conviction, his face totally expressionless.

“Why?” I replied, pulling my shirt over my head and bending to fish for the pair of trousers I had been

wearing. I pulled them from underneath the bed in time to see the fretful glance Gemma gave Aaron,

something serious passing between them.

“No one is hurt. Not yet.”

“Not yet? Aaron-”

“It’s not Aaron. I’m not Aaron.”

I had only been in the tower a handful of times during my time as Alpha. I had seen Romero, heard his

deranged, slightly senile ramblings before. He was just an old man, an ancient one, really. And he was

serving a life sentence for war crimes that took place before I was even born.

But we were keeping him comfortable and well fed. Horace took care of everything. He had insisted. And

now I knew why.

Aaron, or should I say Troy, had told me everything. He started from the beginning. He had arrived in

Valoria around the time the real Aaron was set to arrive, spending the first few days in secret

correspondence with Horace before showing up to the castle, where he pretended to be Maeve’s

breeder.

It had been a ruse. Troy was working for the previously disbanded pack of Poldesse, the pack ruled by

the Alpha Damian, who had taken over after Romero was imprisoned

But Troy hadn’t known the full weight of his mission until after he arrived. He hadn’t known of Poldesse’s

impending invasion. He hadn’t known of Damian’ s desire to conquer Valoria. He hadn’t known of

Romero’s sinister plans for Maeve.

Troy had been blind to it all, a pawn, and a man desperate to free the only living relative he had left in the

world.

Romero, his grandfather.

He would have done it too, he told me, if his mate wasn’t the same woman caught in the crosshairs of

the entire scheme.

Chapter 25: Back to Finish the Job

Maeve

I believed him. I didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he was telling the truth. I just knew. Troy had seen

right through me from the very beginning. He had broken open the carefully constructed persona i had

spent my life perfecting, pulling me out of my abject, yet personally inflicted loneliness. I kept people

away on purpose. I talked and talked until I could lull them into numbness and slip back into the

shadows. But Aaron, I mean Troy, had not been the man described in Ethan’s letters, no.

Troy had been my friend. I trusted him. And against all odds, I still did.

So, I followed him to the tower, Gemma following close behind as we crept through the castle in the pitch

black of night. It was 2:00 in the morning, and despite Troy and Gemma’s desperate pleas to rouse the

castle, I protested, insisting that I’d face Romero myself.

Troy had a key, of course, being a spy and all, and together we climbed up the staircase to the top of the

tower.

But when Troy opened the door to the circular room that had been Romero’s home for two decades,

none of us were prepared for what was on the other side.

“No!” Troy shouted as he lunged forward, pushing through the cell door that was unlocked and left ajar.

The cell itself was a mess, the sparse furniture toppled over, and books scattered across the floor.

Romero laid in a heap on the floor, naked, his body half-covered by a thin, shredded blanket he must

have pulled off the bed.

“What the hell-” I whispered, looking around before casting a glance at Gemma, who stood statuesque,

stunned into silence.

Troy was crouching next to Romero, reaching down to take the man’s head into his hands.

But Romero jerked violently, letting out a surprised howl. All three of us jumped, Troy leaping backward

away from the withered form of Romero and Gemma pulling me away from the door to the cell, her

fingers digging into my forearm.

“I thought you were Horace,” Romero croaked, his bloodied mouth dribbling as it stretched into a smile,

“back to finish the job.”

“Horace?” Troy said, looking around.

*You can still shift even when you’re as old as the Goddess herself, boy.” Romero turned his head and

spit a tooth fragment onto the stone floor, spraying blood. But what do you think happens when two old,

gnarled wolves fight in close quarters, hmm? Makes a mess as you can see.” He laughed, blood gurgling

wetly in his throat.

“Horace did this? Why?” Troy leaned back over Romero, who pointed a shaky finger at me.

“I see you told them.”

“I wasn’t going to let you,”

“Oh, I was the least of your problems, you idiot.” Romero closed his eyes, wheezing. “That bistard

Damian wants what I have. Horace was meant to get it -to get the-” He coughed, blood spraying across

Troy’s shirt. Troy leaned back, glancing over at me before looking back down at the man, who was

laughing again.

“Get what?” Troy growled, growing impatient with obvious hatred in his voice.

“Look under the bed, pull it from the wall,” Romero coughed, “there’s a stone loose. Pull it out of the

floor.”

“Don’t play games with me. We haven’t much time-”

“I know that, boy. Do as I say.”

Troy glanced at me again as if asking permission, and I nodded, not taking my eyes off Romero as Troy

stood and pulled the little wooden cot away from the wall and reached behind it. A full minute passed

before he pulled a stone the size of my head from the wall, placing it on the bed and glancing down at

Romero before dramatically pulling the bed further from the wall.

“What were you doing? Trying to escape?” He said sarcastically as he bent behind the bed. But he

stiffened suddenly, his shoulders going rigid as he straightened to his full height, turning around with a

yellowed, rolled up piece of paper in his hands. “This is what Horace was looking for? What is it, an

excerpt from your diary?”

I snorted, choking on a laugh Gemma jabbed me hard in the ribs.

“Open it and see,” Romero breathed, blood trickling from his mouth.

Troy unrolled the paper, smirking down at Romero as he did so. But as he looked over the worn, frayed

document his face began to change, his eyes widening into perfect spheres. “Where did you get this?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“This is

this can’t be…”

“What is it?” I said, taking a step toward the cell door. Gemma pulled on my arm, stopping me from

entering.

“It’s a map,” Troy swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He looked down at Romero,

who had a wide smile plastered on his pale face. “It’ sa map to Lycaon’s tomb.”

“Who’s Lycaon?” Gemma asked, peeking her head from behind my back.

“He was he was fabled to be the Moon Goddesses son. This can’t be real.” Troy was pouring over the

map, his hands trembling slightly. “You were

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Chapter 25: Back to Finish the Job

planning to find the tomb, weren’t you? Where did you find this?”

“Consider it a family heirloom,” Romero said dismissively, his hand twitching as he tried to raise it to

wave away Troy’s question,

“Why would Horace want this ? Troy asked, not looking away from the map.

“Because Damian wants it. He stole my-my-“Romero coughed violently, another spray of blood blanketed

the floor around his head. He wheezed, turning his head from side to side. “Those witches.those white

witches…”

“I think he’s dying!” Gemma said from behind my back.

I reached back, gently squeezing her arm.

Troy stepped over Romero, his eyes still firmly planted on the map. “What is he after?”

-A stone,” Romero said weakly, his eyes beginning to flutter, “a moonstone. He needs it for-for-” he let

out a long, choked breath, struggling to breath.

Troy looked down, crouching, his face only a mere foot from Romero’s.

“What does this have to do with Maeve?” Troy growled, the map clutched in one hand.

“Everything. She’s the key…” Romero’s eyes froze, his hand twitching as he slowly lifted it to touch Troy

on the cheek, “Madalynn? Is that you–” he wheezed, then his hand dropped to the ground, his body

going limp.

“What did he mean?” I asked hurriedly as we descended the stairs from the tower. I missed a step and

nearly fell into Troy’s back as I tried to keep up with him.

“I don’t know. Lycaon’s tomb is a fable. Its existence is a myth. I doubt this is real-”

“You looked as though you were about to have a stroke-“Gemma was gripping the back of my shirt as we

made our way down through the dark, her voice a mere whisper.

“I was surprised, that’s all. Romero is a.– was a crazy old man, that’s all. We have bigger problems.” Troy

pulled open the door leading back onto the 5th floor of the castle, squinting down the hallway before

waving me and Gemma out into the corridor. “We need to wake everyone up. Get the servants out-”

A strange feeling rippled through me, something I can only describe as finality. I held my hand up to

interrupt him, waiting for him to fall silent. “Go to Maeve,” i said.

He looked stunned. “We have to-”

“You have to go to her. Gemma and I will take care of the rest. Go!” I demanded, the hair on my arms

standing on end as I saw the flash of fear in his eyes

But he nodded, once, opening his mouth to speak and quickly shutting it again before turning away and

disappearing into the darkness,

“What do we do now?” Gemma whispered.

I took her hand, knitting her fingers in mine.

“You’re my mate.” I said, squeezing her hand. A feeling of relief rushed through me as I said the words,

months of tensions lifting from my muscles. “Whatever happens next, we get through it. Together.”