“I’m not letting you go. You would save yourself a lot of energy if you stopped fighting,” Lukas grumbled moodily at his fussing daughter. He was glad to have her back but her tantrums were not at all missed.
Artemis would’ve laughed at his chastise if she wasn’t so indulged in anger. “I could shift in your arms and break an elbow but I’m going easy on you.” She kicked a knee out but Lukas shifted his head so the attack landed on his shoulder.
“I’m not letting you spend another minute with those dangerous animals.” He picked up his speed at the thought of the lawless beasts. With no chain of command, lycans answered to no alpha, pack, or life purpose. Sol’s partner in crime brought particular unease. Lukas wasn’t blind. He knew that the wild lycan had taken a liking to Artemis. The way he eagerly tossed her away was a feeble attempt at hiding this. Nothing could mask the emotional delay in their stare or the possessive dip of his fingers into her back when he held her in his arms. The ten arcs screamed out the reluctance to let her go.
Wrath longed to keep her. Lukas knew this, he could even relate to his darkly tempting desire. Because at one point in time, he had been like Wrath— a bad man wanting to claim a good woman.
He suspected they were mates but wouldn’t ask for confirmation. He would rather live in doubt than with the fact that Artemis was meant for a criminal.
“You can’t decide that for me! I have rights!” Artemis rebutted.
He shook his head otherwise. “I’m your father and alpha. Laws allow me to make decisions for pack members who are under undeniable danger but not in a stable condition to make suitable choices. Now, I’d say that injury of yours is getting in the way of you thinking straight so there’s nothing you can do but stay still and let me take care of you.”
Artemis’ head spun when buried memories rushed to the surface. She laid limp for a few seconds, enough to have Lukas think that he finally won the squirming battle.
“How old am I?”
Lukas glanced down at her face. “What?”
“My age,” she continued.
He frowned. “You’re twenty.”
Artemis’ eyebrow quirked. “And when do I turn twenty-one?”
Lukas sighed when he realized what she was doing. “In a few months.”
An arrogant smirk announced that she was about to deal a winning card. “According to clause 35, that rule only applies to underage werewolves. And once I’m 21, you’ll have no reign over my decisions. I’ll do as you wish until I reach that age.” She looked quite proud of herself.
Lukas growled at the smartass. But beneath his scowl of defeat roared a swelling of pride for her sharp thinking.
That’s my girl.
“I know you’ve gone through a lot and that you’re trying to do what you think is best—”
“Don’t patronize me!” her demand blew his soothing voice out of the water.
Lukas scoffed. “Why are you so much like your mother?!”
She shut up then, now thinking about a mother she couldn’t remember. “Can you tell me about her?” she requested softly.
Lukas chuckled and pressed a tender kiss to her brow. “Sure. She’s basically you but with short hair...” he laughed.” “She’s weird. But don’t tell her I said that. She’s a mechanic freak, has an older sister named Zya that she’ll probably end up killing. She hates sharp shoes but loves arguing with me. When you were younger...”
She focused on his excited ranting, finding it to be a great distraction from a particular lycan in the woods that got further away with every step Lukas took. She will give Wrath what he wanted and leave. Not because she gave up, but because great leaders knew when to retreat. If she was to rise up to the alpha title, she will have to adopt this idea. Her family, pack, and mental health needed her to go home. It was time to call quits. So she will.
But she’ll be back. Because while Wrath won this battle, the war will carry on.
Tension claimed the mood between the two lycans.
“I’ll be going now. Here is my business card. Use it if you need to reach me,” Sol dug into his pocket and retrieved his wallet. He held out the small square of information. Wrath accepted it but his attention remained in the direction that his last chance of happiness left through.
“You’re going to leave, aren’t you?” Sol predicts grimly.
“Yes,” Wrath offered curtly.
Sol pocketed his wallet. “Do you need money or an identification? I can set you up.” That was the only question he bothered to ask. Audibly wondering where Wrath was planning on going would earn him a glare and pursed lips.
Wrath moved his eyes to him. “No. I’ll be fine. Besides, we both know what happens when you help. I’d likely end up in jail if you get involved.”
Sol carelessly shrugged. “Fair enough.”
Wrath pinned him with his eyes. “Goodbye and good luck.”
A frown marred Sol's face, the sentence completely taking him off-guard. Whenever he departed from Wrath, he was rushed off with annoyance. Wrath’s parting words consisted of insults, threats, and demands to not show up again. But he never exercised a blatant “goodbye,” leaving the window open for Sol to visit again.
He knew then that this time Wrath actually had no plans of seeing him again. He had shut the window, door, chimney, and any other opening to his life.
Sol didn’t return the goodwill, simply watched him walk off. He made his way to the cabin once Wrath disappeared from sight, making sure to be far enough to avoid detection. He observed Wrath pass by a window a few times, collecting items as he went. A few minutes later, he pulled a stack of books and set them outside. He went back into the cabin for a few more minutes and returned to Sol’s line of sight with a sack and a small box.
He ripped multiple pages from a book, wrinkled them, and dropped them on the porch. When nearly the entire book was gone, he stroked a match and dropped it on the pile. The small flame quickly developed into a hungry inferno, conquering the pile before spreading its wake across the porch and reaching its arms out to the ceiling.
Both men watched the deadly orange take over the wooden cabin. “Do something I’ll approve of for once and let it rain so that the trees don’t catch fire,” Wrath says to no one. For a second, Sol thought he had been spotted. When an angry boom shook the sky, he realized that Wrath was addressing the goddess.
The thunder was followed by drizzle. Wrath opened his sack and started packing the books he had saved from the scorch.
Always a bookworm, Sol appraised as he watched his comrad’s tall, half-naked, barefooted frame slip into the trees with his trusty sack of books. Sol turned and went his own way.
A/N> Did you read Alpha Zena?
Did you find The Legend of Wrath on Wattpad or Inkitt?
Any Predictions for the next lycan?
Wrath -- Raiden
Envy -- Elizabeth
Pride -- Sol
Lust -- ?