Page 145 of Haunted Crowns
Just like him.
Stephan inhaled and nodded. “Thank you.” His voice was hoarse, threaded with something raw that Kareon understood but left unspoken.
The Alpha gave a slight nod in return. It was a rare exchange, born of shared loss and silent understanding. Then he stepped closer.
His posture shifted, his chin lifting, as if a declaration were coming. “You wanted an army?” His voice was calm but firm. “You have one. My pack stands ready. We’ll fight. Kill. Tearthrough the Obsidian Order until nothing’s left. Just give the word, Dragov, and watch the world burn.”
A heavy silence followed. Stephan’s gaze narrowed. He had not expected this. Centuries of bloodshed had divided Lycans and Firstbloods. No peace. No trust. And yet, here Kareon stood, offering war as though it had always been fate.
Stephan let the weight of the moment settle before the corner of his mouth curved. He knew Kareon too well not to expect what came next.
Kareon scoffed, rolling his shoulders like the air itself had grown too sentimental.
“Let’s be clear, Dragov,” he said, golden eyes glinting. “We’re fighting for Eris. Not for you. When this ends, you’re still my enemy.”
Stephan’s jaw twitched, but his lips lifted just enough for Kareon to notice.
Allies? Maybe.
Friends? Never.
Rivals? Always.
Not even war would change that.
Stephan leaned back against the desk, arms folding across his chest. “Understood,” he said, then paused. “And…thank you.”
Kareon tensed, visibly unsettled. The words did not sit well, did not fit the rules of their dynamic. For a moment, he looked like he might ignore them.
Then he muttered, shaking his head. “This conversation’s becoming disgusting.”
He turned toward the door, already halfway out before—
“Kareon.” Stephan’s voice stopped him cold.
Kareon glanced back, one brow raised. “What?”
Stephan exhaled. The words soured on his tongue, but he said them anyway. “Eris is still shaken,” he said after a pause. “Go see her.”
Kareon blinked. Then, slowly, his lips curved into something dangerous.
“Well, well,” Kareon murmured. “Did the mighty Dragov King just admit I can do what he can’t?”
Stephan sighed. “Just go.”
Kareon smirked. “As you wish.”
He turned again. But—
“Kareon.” This time, the tone cut sharper. Stephan stood, shoulders squared, his silence speaking more than any threat could. “Keep your hands off. Don’t make me regret this.”
Kareon lifted his hands in mock surrender. “I swear,” he said, kissing his fingers like a vow. “I won’t kiss her. This time.”
“Get out.”
Kareon’s laugh echoed down the corridor.
Stephan remained still, alone. His fingers drummed lightly on the desk, eyes fixed on the door.
