Chapter 211
Xavier Pov
The medical report stated Damon died from acute respiratory failure due to anaphylactic shock. According to the hospital, he had an unknown severe allergy to a compound in the routine treatment medication.
The death certificate listed it as an ‘unfortunate medical accident with no negligence involved.”
Everything seemed perfectly documented and explained.
I was filming a zombie movie when I got the call about Damon. The irony wasn’t lost on me. There I was, covered in fake blood and gore, pretending to be dead, when my brother actually was. I didn’t even take time to wash off the makeup or change clothes. I just ran.
When I burst through the hospital doors, a woman screamed. A child pointed at me and started crying. I had forgotten I was still in full zombie makeup, complete with prosthetic wounds and dark, sunken eyes. A security guard actually drew his weapon before a nurse recognized me and explained the situation.
“Mr. Xavier, please follow me,” she said, trying not to stare at my appearance. “Your family is waiting.”
The hospital staff led me to the morgue. The fluorescent lights made my zombie makeup glow an unnatural green. The attendant looked between me and the body, visibly confused about which was the actual corpse.
I couldn’t believe it. My brother, who had always seemed invincible to me, lay motionless on a cold metal table. Damon had been a mountain of strength, the one constant in my life since our parents died. Now he was just… gone.
Liora sat in a corner, her eyes red and swollen. When she saw me, she tried to speak, but only a raspy whisper came out. She had screamed herself hoarse. Her grief was so`raw it filled the room like a physical presence.
“It was so sudden,” she managed to say. “He was fine that morning.”
I collected Damon’s personal effects from the hospital; some clothes, his wallet, keys, and a laptop. I barely noticed the computer then. I was too busy planning his funeral, coordinating with pack members, and trying to support Liora and their three–year–old son.
The funeral was grand, as befitted an Alpha of Damon’s stature. Even Alpha King Thomas attended, placing a wreath of white lilies on the casket.
“Damon was an exceptional Alpha,” Thomas said, his hand squeezing my shoulder firmly. “Such a tragic loss. I hope you will honor his legacy by leading your pack with the same dedication. If you need guidance, my office is always open to you.”
His words seemed genuine, his face appropriately solemn. I thanked him, feeling grateful for the support of such a powerful figure in our community.
Taking over as Alpha was overwhelming. The pack expected leadership and strength immediately. Damon had become Alpha at just seventeen and had made it look effortless. I had no idea how much he had actually been carrying.
A week after officially becoming Alpha, Darian, my brother’s Beta, requested a private meeting.
“Something wasn’t right about Alpha Damon’s death,” he said, his voice low despite us being alone in my office. “The
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month before he died, he sent me to investigate some of Alpha King Thomas’s medical facilities. He was suspicious about reports of missing rogues and lone wolves.”
What did you find?‘ 1 asked.
“Nothing concrete. I was discovered and had to leave before gathering evidence. But Alpha Damon was convinced something illegal was happening. He was planning to continue the investigation. Darian’s eyes darkened. “A week later, he had his routine treatment and never came home.”
That night, I remembered Damon’s laptop among his belongings. When I opened it, I found almost nothing. The hard drive had been wiped clean except for basic system files.
I contacted a lone wolf hacker I knew from my acting circles. For a substantial fee, he recovered fragments of deleted files. What I found sickened me.
Thomas’s medical corporation had been experimenting on rogues, lone wolves, and disabled werewolves. They were developing drugs specifically designed to affect our kind, using unwilling test subjects who wouldn’t be missed. Damon had discovered their operation and was gathering evidence to present to the Council.
I found email fragments proving Damon had scheduled a meeting with Council members for the week after he died. My
brother wasn’t the victim of a medical accident. He was murdered to keep him silent.
Rage consumed me. I wanted to storm the North American Werewolf Council chambers and expose Thomas. I smashed furniture, shredded curtains with my claws, and howled until my throat was raw. My wolf demanded blood.
Darian found me like that, surrounded by destruction, clutching printouts of the recovered files.
“You can’t go public with this,” he said firmly.
“He killed my brother,” I growled.
“And he’ll kill you too,” Darian replied. “And Liora. And that three–year–old boy who just lost his father. Thomas has been Alpha King for twelve years. He has allies everywhere.“,
“So we do nothing?” My claws dug into my palms, drawing blood.
“Think about it. You’ve spent years acting instead of training. You have zero political allies. Damon’s mate has no powerful family to protect her. If you accuse Thomas now, he’ll eliminate everyone and install a puppet Alpha to run this pack. Is that what Damon would want?”
I remembered Thomas at the funeral, his performance perfect. He hadn’t come to pay respects. He came to see, if we suspected anything.
That night, I made my decision. I renamed our pack Silverscreen and began crafting a new public image. I made sure paparazzi caught me at wild parties, drinking excessively, flirting with starlets. I built a reputation as a playboy celebrity who cared more about fame than pack responsibilities.
As I predicted, Thomas’s surveillance of me was heavy during the first year. By the second year, his agents visited less frequently. He believed I was too self–absorbed to be a threat.
What he didn’t know was that I declined major film roles, only keeping up appearances with cameos and occasional talk show appearances. The rest of my time was spent training and preparing for the next Alpha King election.
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I studied politics and battle strategy. I trained with the best fighters in secret facilities, I built a network of allies who had also suffered under Thomas’s rule. Most importantly, I kept my true intentions hidden behind a mask of frivolity.
When the final trial’s sacred fire flashed white for me, confirming I had passed the Alpha King qualification tests, I could hardly believe it. Years of preparation had paid off.
Now, I finally wait for the perfect moment.
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