Chapter 63: Send for Reynold

Conri drove into the gravel driveway of his villa, the SUV spraying a violent cloud of stones and dust before screeching to an abrupt halt.

He cut the engine, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. His face was a mask of uncontrolled fury.

Shoving the door open, he swung his bad leg out and stormed toward the entrance, his cane thumping violently against the stone, his entire torso leaning heavily under the strain of his anger.

Those pathetic cowards who called themselves the High Council had refused to reject Dorian’s new bride. He had laid out every logical argument, explaining exactly why a wolfless runt had no right to be crowned Luna Queen of the Wintercrest continent.

Yet, despite his warnings, they sat there in absolute silence, refusing to raise a hand against the union. They claimed they didn’t want the wrath of the Alpha of the North. The cowards were simply terrified of Dorian.

He stormed up the stairs, ignoring the two house servants who stopped to bow. He nearly broke the door down with his fist before yanking it open.

Bethany whirled around in shock, her eyes widening at the raw anger radiating off her husband. She quickly ended her phone call and hurried to his side.

"How did it go?" she asked anxiously. "Did they agree to reject the girl?"

"How do you think it went?" Conri snarled, tossing his coat onto a chair. "They flatly refused. The entire council consists of nothing but spineless animals too frightened of my nephew to challenge his authority."

"But they are the council for a reason," Bethany pressed. "Remember Alpha Gaten of the Western pack? His council suspended him the moment he proved incompetent. The court council is meant to have a say concerning the bride Dorian chooses."

"Tell that to them!" Conri raged. "Kane is too scared to speak up because he’s terrified of losing his position as head council. That’s why Dorian remained completely unfazed when I threatened him with the council. He knew they wouldn’t dare cross him."

"But we have to do something," Bethany insisted, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "And we have to do it fast. If that girl conceives and bears a son for Dorian, we are doomed. Joffrey will never see the crown."

"Do you think I don’t know that?" Conri snapped. "We moved too late. We should have begun our plans long before Dorian ever married that girl."

"We had no idea he would ever remarry," Bethany said softly. "We thought the death of Elvira would keep him broken until we were ready."

She stepped closer, resting a soothing hand on his arm. "We can’t stop now, Conri. If only the council had never revealed the succession decree your sister left behind. The throne would already be Joffrey’s."

"The throne will belong to Joffrey," Conri growled, a cold, predatory gleam settling deep within his gaze. "No matter the cost, the North will be ours, as it should have been decades ago. We just need allies, people who have felt the bite of Dorian’s cruelty."

Bethany’s lips curved into a sharp smile. "There is one who comes to mind. Reynold Bennington. Did Dorian not strip him of his title and humiliate him before his subordinates?"

Conri’s lips pulled into a malicious smile. "You are right, Beth. If anyone harbors enough hatred to destroy Dorian, it’s that scorned Alpha. Have the guards send a message to him immediately. Ensure it is done in absolute secrecy."

"I’ll see to it," Bethany smiled. "I believe in you, Conri. By the time we strike, Dorian won’t see it coming."

Conri grunted, leaning heavily on his cane as his fury settled into a cold, calculating malice. Then, his expression hardened. "What is the status of the rehab institution? Can Elvira be released?"

"Not yet," Bethany shook her head. "I was on the phone with them when you walked in. They claim they cannot release her for another year."

"Why?" Conri demanded.

"Her condition keeps deteriorating. I tried to negotiate, but they were adamant." She took Conri’s hand, squeezing it tightly. "Don’t worry about her, my sweet. It’s better if Dorian keeps believing she’s dead. When the time is right, we will use her as our ultimate weapon."

Conri nodded slowly, the logic appeasing his impatience. "Very well. Send for Reynold now. We can’t waste anymore time."

Bethany nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving Conri to stew in his own bitterness. His mind kept replaying the scene in Dorian’s study; how Dorian had blatantly disrespected him, demanding he get out all because of the little, wolfless brat he had married.

"Just you wait, nephew," he growled into the empty room. "You might think you have the world in your palm, until you realize just how far I will go to bring you down, blood relative or not."

...

Reynold received Conri’s letter that afternoon. The moment he saw the official Lowell seal, a triumphant smile curled his lips.

He had actually been expecting it. Last night, Samantha had sneaked out to meet him in the forest, whispering how she had eavesdropped on Conri and Dorian’s explosive argument in the study.

From the look of things, Conri refused to accept the marriage. It didn’t take Reynold long to realize the older man held a dark, venomous grudge against Dorian for taking the throne meant for his own son.

Putting the pieces together, he knew it was only a matter of time before Conri started gathering allies to take Dorian down.

Reynold didn’t care about the brat Dorian married. His war was with Dorian alone, and he would go to any length to destroy him.

He got off the narrow single bed and pulled on his clothes. Walking over to the cupboard in the corner of the room, he pulled out a hidden box and opened it.

A thick strand of black hair with vibrant red tips lay curled tightly inside.

He smiled coldly, remembering how he had sneaked into the mansion on the day of the wedding just to steal it. Initially, he hadn’t known why he took it; a sudden urge had simply driven him.

But after what Ingrid had revealed about Alyssa, he was damn glad he did. He would use the girl to tear Dorian apart from the inside out.

Glancing around the cramped, decaying apartment he had been forced to live in ever since he was kicked out of his pack, his hatred toward Dorian burned hotter.

He got into his beat-up Mustang and drove down the dusty road toward Conri’s villa. It took an hour to get there.

The guards at the gate waved him straight through, and he found himself hollowed out by how magnificent the estate was. The Lowell family had always hoarded the wealth of the North.

A male servant received him at the door and led him up the stairs to a room converted into a private office.

Conri and Bethany were waiting for him, Joffrey standing right behind them. Reynold stepped inside, his posture instantly turning wary. Sharing a common enemy didn’t mean he trusted them.

"Alpha Reynold," Conri called out, his voice dripping with smug mockery. "It’s a pleasure to have you here."

Reynold stopped at the door, his eyes narrowing. "It’s just Reynold. You know this, Conri, so don’t play games with me."

Conri’s smirk widened. He could already tell that Reynold’s desperation made him the perfect ally. "Have a seat. I’m sure you already have an idea why I sent for you."

Reynold lowered himself into the adjacent sofa, locking eyes with Conri, his expression unreadable and cold. "If this is about tearing Dorian off that throne and destroying him, I am in," he said flatly. "I will do whatever it takes.

"That’s what I like to hear," Conri said, leaning forward. "I have a plan, and it involves the only creatures Dorian’s raw power is useless against."

Reynold frowned. "The soulless rogues?"

"Not just the rogues," Conri said, shaking his head. "The shapeshifters. They are the only ones who can infiltrate the mansion without being detected. But we will command the soulless rogues to bleed them dry first."

"But the shapeshifters were exiled years ago, along with the Shadow shifters. How do you expect to find them?"

​"Finding them isn’t the problem," Conri said smoothly. "What I need you to do is gather the rest of the smaller Alphas, the ones who still carry a thorn in their side from Dorian’s restrictions. We need a formidable army before we strike."

"If we’re going to strike the heart of the mansion, we should do it now," Joffrey cut in, stepping forward eagerly. "Dorian is currently away from the pack. The palace is vulnerable."

"Patience," Conri whispered, a dark promise gleaming in his eyes as he looked at the conspirators. "Word has already been sent to the Rogue King and the Lord of the Shapeshifters. On the night of the Moon Ceremony, we strike."