Chapter 17

• The Hunters were regrouping, they felt insulted to have lost two captives—Bianca and Olivia, they also lost a battle with Bustan. A campfire sparked in the clearing, sending smoke to kiss the sky. Around it, the Hunters gathered, their faces hardened with resolve. At the center of them all stood Marcus, their leader, he looked disappointed in them that they lost a battle with common werewolves. Everywhere was quiet as his second-in-command, Dax, approached.
• “The traps are nearly set,” Dax reported, his voice low but steady. “We’ve placed them along the borders, just as you ordered. There’s no way Bustan or any of his men will escape once he comes out of the palace, they'll walk directertly into our trap, into our territory.”
• Marcus nodded, his gaze fixed on the map laid out in front of him, the border of the Lycan palace clearly marked. “Good,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “It’s time to take them down. Bustan thinks his power will protect him, but even he can’t fight us, we have weapons he can't dream of competing with.”
• As Marcus paced around the fire, his mind churned with strategies. Dax cleared his throat before continuing, “And what about Nate? He’ll be here soon.”
• Marcus glanced up, his lips curling into a sinister smile. “Nate is desperate. His rivalry with Bustan will be the key to our success. He’s willing to make a deal that even he can’t turn back from.”
• The mention of Nate made some of the Hunters shift uneasily. They didn't like how authoritative he was around them like they weren't the one helping his stupid course. Nate had lost everything—the respect of his pack, his claim to Olivia, and even the bond with his twin brother. His bitterness and resentment had turned him into a volatile force. But it was precisely that hatred that made him useful, the Hunters have always been after the Lycan king and now was their chance.
• Moments later, the sound of footsteps broke the silence of the camp. The Hunters turned as Nate emerged from the forest. His dark eyes gleamed with a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched tight as he approached the fire.
• “Nate,” Marcus greeted him with a cold smile, “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come.”
• Nate’s expression remained impassive, but the fury simmering beneath his skin was evident. “I’m here, aren’t I?” His voice was low, each word laced with venom. “Let’s just get this over with.”
• Marcus raised an eyebrow, amused by the alpha’s impatience. “Very well. You want revenge against Bustan. We want the Lycan king to fall. Our goals align, but I need to be sure you’re fully committed to this. There’s no room for second thoughts once the trap is set.”
• Nate’s eyes flashed with anger, and he took a step closer to Marcus, towering over him. “I’ve already lost everything because of Bustan. Do you think I have anything left to lose? If you can guarantee that he’ll fall, I’ll do whatever it takes. I want to take my mate back from him and I don't care what happens to him.”
• Marcus studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Good. Then here’s what we’ll do. Bustan will be lured to the palace’s borders, thinking he’s protecting his territory. But instead, he’ll be walking right into our trap. Once we have him where we want him, we’ll strike.”
• Nate crossed his arms, his lips twisted into a sneer. “And what’s my role in all of this? I didn’t come here just to sit on the sidelines.”
• Marcus smiled darkly. “You’ll be the bait.”
• For a moment, Nate’s expression faltered, confusion flickering in his eyes. “The bait?”
• “Yes. Bustan still cares about you, despite everything. You’re his brother. He’ll hesitate if you’re in danger, and that hesitation will give us the opening we need.”
• Nate clenched his fists, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he processed Marcus’s plan. “And what do I get in return?”
• Marcus’s smile widened. “When Bustan is dead, the Lycans will be leaderless. You’ll reclaim what’s yours—the title of Alpha over the pack, the pack, and your dear Olivia—if she doesn't lay down her life for her King—Bustan.”
• At the mention of Olivia’s name, Nate’s face twisted with a mix of longing and bitterness. He’d thrown her away, rejected her, and now Bustan had claimed her as his mate. But that didn’t change the fact that a part of him still wanted her—still believed she belonged to him. The thought of Olivia under Bustan’s protection, of her choosing his brother over him, only fueled his hatred.
• “I want Bustan dead,” Nate growled, his voice low and dangerous. “And I want to see the look on his face when it happens.”
• Marcus chuckled softly. “You’ll have your chance.”
• Satisfied with their arrangement, Nate turned on his heel and disappeared back into the woods, his figure swallowed by the night. Marcus watched him go, a sense of victory swelling in his chest. The plan was in motion, and soon, the Lycan king would fall.
• ***
• The next night, the trap was set. Along the borders of the palace, hidden pits lined with silver spikes lay covered with leaves and dirt, camouflaged to perfection. The Hunters had positioned themselves strategically, their crossbows loaded with silver-tipped arrows. Bustan wouldn’t know what hit him.
• From the shadows, Nate watched as the palace loomed in the distance, the flickering torches lighting up the massive stone walls. He could sense Bustan’s presence, his brother’s energy as powerful and untamed as ever. The thought of facing him, of finally ending their rivalry, sent a surge of adrenaline through Nate’s veins.
• One of Bustan's soldiers was coming. He had no doubt about that. A message had been sent to Bustan—an urgent call for him to meet at the borders but he sent one of his men. Nate was disappointed.
• As the minutes ticked by, the tension in the air grew thicker. The Hunters crouched in silence, their breaths shallow, waiting for the right moment. Marcus signaled for them to hold steady, his eyes never leaving the treeline. They'd attack the soldier and it'll be a danger message to Bustan that they were coming for him.
• And then, they saw him.
• The soldier emerged from the shadows, his massive form cutting through the darkness. His eyes were sharp, scanning the area for any signs of danger.
• But just as the soldier was about to cross the threshold into the danger zone, he stopped. His head lifted slightly, his nostrils flaring as he caught a scent on the wind. Explosive's scent.
• “Explosives?” he growled, his voice echoing through the trees.
• But before he could make his move, a sharp whistle pierced the air, followed by the twang of a crossbow. The first silver-tipped arrow shot through the night, aimed straight at the soldier.
• The trap had been sprung.