Chapter 104 – The Duchess's Summons
The Duchess stood by the tall window of her library.
Beyond the glass, the vineyards stretched in perfect symmetry. Every line measured. Every vine in its place.
Nothing was left to chance.
Behind her, the butler waited in silence.
"Were they sent?" she asked.
She didn't turn.
"Yes, my lady."
A brief pause.
"All of them."
The Duchess remained still.
"And the responses?"
"Some have already arrived. Others are still in transit."
Expected. No one ignored a summons like this. Not anymore.
"Repeat them."
The butler inclined his head.
"Scotland. The northern territories."
"Eastern Europe. Russia."
"The United States. New York. Los Angeles. The central regions."
A slight pause.
"South America. The southern territories."
"Central regions. Minor factions."
The Duchess shifted her gaze slightly.
"And the foxes?"
"They remain aligned."
Of course.
Her eyes returned to the vineyards.
Everything in place.
"Even those who stand against us… received their invitation."
Not a question. A fact.
"Yes, my lady."
Silence followed. Heavier now.
"This is not a celebration."
Her voice remained calm. Controlled.
"It is a declaration."
The butler lowered his head.
He understood.
They all would.
Soon enough.
"Prepare the rest."
A pause.
"We leave shortly."
---
The Duchess didn't move from the window.
"Prepare the limousine."
The butler bowed his head. "At once, my lady."
A beat. "And inform Titus."
She turned slightly. "He will wait inside. I will join him shortly."
"Yes, my lady."
The butler left.
Silence returned.
The Duchess reached for her phone. She dialed.
"They will be joining us," she said when the line connected. "A private room. No interruptions."
Her gaze drifted back to the vineyards.
"And the restaurant will be ready. I expect the usual standard."
A pause. Then—
"Good."
She ended the call.
---
The limousine waited at the front of the mansion.
Black. Polished. Immaculate.
Titus stood beside it, already dressed, still adjusting to everything.
Xue and Jin stood a step behind him. Still. Present. Connected.
The driver opened the door. "Please."
Titus hesitated half a second, then stepped inside.
The sisters followed.
The door closed.
Silence settled in the vehicle. No one spoke.
The engine started. They didn't move yet. They waited.
---
Minutes passed.
Then—
The mansion doors opened again.
The Duchess stepped out. Measured. Unhurried.
She didn't look at them. Didn't need to.
She entered the limousine.
The door closed.
"Let's go."
The vehicle moved.
---
The city shifted around them as they advanced. Glass. Steel. Movement.
Then—
It changed.
The streets narrowed. The noise faded. Discretion replaced everything.
The limousine slowed. Stopped.
---
The restaurant stood before them.
Elegant. Reserved. No signs screaming for attention. Only presence.
Inside—warm light. Wood. Red and gold details. Subtle dragon carvings along the walls. A long sushi counter, pristine. Chefs in perfect white uniforms, movements precise, controlled.
Everything curated. Everything intentional.
---
The driver stepped out first. Opened the door.
The Duchess exited. She didn't wait. Didn't look back.
She walked straight toward the entrance.
The doors opened for her.
She entered.
---
Inside—she disappeared into the restaurant.
---
A second later—
Titus stepped out.
Followed by Xue. Then Jin.
The limousine remained behind them.
Silent.
Waiting.
Hook: And that silence hid a danger that would soon come to light…
Chapter 105 – The Restaurant (VIP)
They entered.
The change was immediate. Controlled silence. Warm light. Dark wood. Details in red and gold. Dragons carved into the walls, subtle, elegant. An immaculate sushi counter. Chefs in white uniforms, movements precise, almost surgical.
Everything measured. Everything in order.
A hostess approached. Young. Perfect posture.
"Welcome."
She gave a slight bow.
"This way, please."
She guided them without a sound. They passed through the main dining room. Then, a sliding door.
Private area.
VIP.
The table was low, Japanese style. But modern. Minimalist. Beautiful.
An exact blend between ancient and contemporary.
"Please."
They sat.
The hostess bowed her head again.
"In a few minutes, someone will come to attend to you."
She withdrew.
Silence.
One second.
Two.
Then—quick footsteps.
The door slid open forcefully.
A woman entered, almost running.
The manager.
She stopped short. Bowed deeply.
"Forgive me… forgive me… a thousand apologies…"
Another bow. Deeper.
"It is an honor to have you here, my lord."
She barely breathed.
"I didn't think the rumors were true…"
She bowed again.
"I apologize for what happened outside. My men will receive the punishment they deserve."
She straightened slightly.
"The meal is on the house. We will bring warm towels. The waiter will take your drinks. And the chef will come personally to take your order… to adapt it to your taste."
Another bow.
"My lord. My lady."
She turned to leave.
"Excuse me."
Titus's voice stopped her.
She turned immediately.
"Yes, my lord."
Titus hesitated a second.
"What punishment… will those guards receive?"
The manager did not hesitate.
"They will be executed."
Silence.
"By guillotine."
Titus blinked.
"What?"
"It is protocol, my lord."
Her voice was calm. As if she were talking about something ordinary.
"For a werewolf to die without regenerating… the head must be separated from the body."
One second. Two.
"They are already being transported to the execution site."
Titus took a step back. His back touched the edge of the table. He lost his balance.
Fell into the seat.
"What…?"
The manager looked at him, confused.
"My lord… the punishment has already been ordered."
"I didn't ask for that."
Silence.
"But it happened in your name."
That weighed heavily.
Titus breathed. Fast.
"Take me to them."
The manager hesitated. Just a second.
"…Yes, my lord."
---
Hook: And that silence hid a danger that would soon come to light…
Chapter 106 – The Descent
The descent ended.
But not the path.
Before them, a narrow hallway of stone. The dampness clung to the walls as if they were breathing. As if the place were alive and had been waiting for centuries.
The smell… worse. Thicker. Older. It wasn't just rot. It was something that had been locked away so long it had become part of the stone.
They moved forward. The manager did not speak. She only led.
At the end, a door of ancient, heavy wood. Its top was curved. Metal reinforcements crossed its surface, holding each plank together as if something from the other side had tried to break through. And was still trying.
The woman pushed it open. The door gave way with a dry, dragging sound, like a complaint held back for too long.
They entered.
A wide room. Cold. The ceiling high, lost in darkness. The echo of their steps did not bounce back. It was absorbed, as if the walls were made of something that swallowed sounds.
From there, several hallways opened in different directions. Like roots. Like cracks. Like veins. Each led somewhere different. There was no need to ask. You could feel it.
Three of them descended further. Places of confinement. Not cages. Worse. Places where people disappeared. Without noise. Without witnesses.
The manager turned. Took the first on the left.
They walked. The floor began to slope. A gentle descent.
Then a small staircase. Six. Seven steps. Each one creaked under their feet as if they were waking it from a very long sleep.
They went down.
Another door. Simpler. Older. She opened it.
And beyond, more stairs. Deeper.
The light was almost nonexistent. Small lamps hung from the walls. Faint. Flickering. Barely enough to see the next step. Nothing more.
The air grew colder. Heavier. Each step seemed to sink. As if the place did not want them to leave. As if it had been waiting for centuries for someone to come down. And now that it had them… it was not going to let them go easily.
And yet, they kept descending.
---
The Room
The descent ended.
This time, for real.
Before them, a wider opening. The staircase stopped at a different chamber. The air was not only cold. It was heavy. Still. As if nothing there had changed in years, as if time had decided to stop long before they arrived.
They entered.
The space was large. Too large to be this far underground. Too large for the darkness to not quite fill it all.
Stone columns held up the ceiling, thick, ancient, like petrified trees that had grown upside down. And between them, rows. Ordered. Symmetrical.
They weren't sculptures. Not really.
They were bodies.
Motionless. Standing. Placed as if they were pieces in an exhibition that had never had visitors.
Some on their knees. Others bent forward. Others… frozen in expressions that did not belong to something dead. It wasn't peace. It wasn't rest. It was something colder. More final.
Their faces were intact. But empty. Lifeless. As if someone had turned them off from the inside, leaving only the shell for time to finish the rest.
The silence was absolute. Not even an echo returned.
And then, a sound.
Distant. Metallic. A dragging.
Titus turned his head slightly. To one side of the chamber, almost hidden among the columns, a dark rail sank into the stone. And on it, a small cart.
An ancient system. Functional. The "train." Not for people. For transport. To move bodies. To bring them. To take them.
There was no need to ask what for. No need for the manager to explain anything. Everything there had a purpose. And none of it was good.
The cart was stopped. Waiting.
Like everything else.
As if the chamber knew they hadn't come down there by chance. As if it had been waiting, counting the days, the hours, the years, for someone to open that door again.
And now they were inside.
And now, the cart was waiting.
---
The Punishment
The descent ended at a final door.
It opened.
And the sound hit first.
Screams. Ripped. Inhuman. They didn't stop. They seemed to come from a place where pain was the only language.
Then, the scene.
Four men. Chained. Standing. Each wrist held by taut chains that kept them spread open. Their ankles bound with short chains that barely let them stay upright.
They formed a crescent.
In front of them, the center. The floor was marked. Deep grooves ran through the stone from each of them, converging toward a central point. From there, other lines branched out.
A pattern. A symbol. A seal.
It wasn't decoration. It was a ritual.
Blood ran through those grooves. Dark. Thick. Alive.
Four werewolves surrounded them. Each one different. One lean. One reddish. One pale. And one black. Purple eyes. The same cold stare.
Each held a weapon.
They weren't ordinary whips. They were segmented chains. Heavy. Each link had small spikes that glinted with traces of dried and fresh blood.
When they struck—they didn't just cut. They tore. Flesh. Blood. Pieces.
The sound of impact was wet. Brutal. Again and again.
They weren't trying to kill them. They were trying to make it last.
Because they could.
The chained werewolves regenerated. Slowly. Painfully. Enough to keep feeling. Enough to keep bleeding.
Hours. Days. If necessary.
The backs of the four guards were no longer skin. They were open flesh, strips hanging, muscle exposed. One of them hung limp. Unconscious.
The other three kept screaming.
The dark‑skinned one… Delacroix… endured. Teeth clenched. Breathing shattered. But still standing.
Titus moved forward. He didn't stop.
"Stop."
His voice wasn't a shout. It was a command.
Three of the werewolves hesitated.
But one—the black one—didn't.
He raised the chain again.
Struck.
Titus moved closer.
"I told you to stop."
Nothing. Another strike.
Titus extended his hand. Stopped the arm mid‑swing. The blow never landed.
The werewolf turned. Tried to attack. A claw swipe with the other hand.
It didn't reach him.
Titus was no longer the same.
His body changed. Fast. Violent. Bones shifting beneath the skin. Muscle growing where there had been none. Skin darkening as if shadow were seeping into him.
He rose before him.
Larger. Heavier. Darker.
A black werewolf. But not like the others.
His presence… wasn't natural. His eyes—weren't normal. There was something in them that looked out from behind. His face wasn't that of a simple predator. It was something worse.
The air sank.
The werewolf stopped. Stepped back. His body shrank. Tail between his legs. Head low.
Submission. Total.
Titus spoke.
His voice… wasn't one. It was two. One deep. One broken. As if something else was using his vocal cords to speak through him.
"One more time you ignore me…"
A pause.
"…and you will be the one to take their place."
Silence fell. Heavy. Impossible to break.
"And I will personally see to your punishment…"
A step forward.
"…until you die."
No one moved. No one breathed.
And for the first time, it wasn't the guards who were afraid.
---
The Decision
The silence still weighed in the chamber.
Titus did not look away.
His voice came out cold. Hard. Un negotiable.
"Release them."
No one answered immediately.
"Now."
The werewolves reacted.
The chains were released. One by one.
The tension gave way.
And the bodies—fell.
Some to their knees. Others straight to the floor. Without strength. Without control. Breathing as if each inhalation were an impossible effort.
The blood still flowed.
The dark‑skinned one… Delacroix… tried to hold himself up.
He failed.
He managed to stay on his knees. Barely.
He lifted his gaze to Titus.
"Why…?"
It was hard for him to speak.
"Why save us… when we offended you…?"
Titus looked at him. Without emotion.
"You didn't offend me."
A pause.
"You were doing your job."
Delacroix blinked. Confused.
"You didn't know who I was."
Another second.
"And when you found out… you apologized as you should."
Silence.
"That's more than many do."
Titus took a step closer.
"I am not a king who punishes his people for a misunderstanding."
A pause. Lower.
"And I don't really believe I am a king."
His eyes didn't leave him.
"But this…"
He looked around. At the blood. At the wounds.
"This you do not deserve."
The air tightened.
"From today…"
A pause.
"…the four of you will serve me."
The guards barely managed to react. The words fell on them. Heavy. Real.
Titus turned his head slightly.
"Duchess."
She stepped forward.
"Do they belong to any clan?"
"If they do," she answered calmly, "their alpha will have to release them. Break the bond. After that… they can seal a new one with you."
A pause. Then, lower:
"Though that is not something you need to worry about."
Titus did not respond.
She continued:
"They are not alphas."
"Not even pure lycanthropes."
"They rank below a gamma."
Her eyes swept over the bodies on the floor.
"They are created."
"Unstable."
"And in many cases… they end up losing themselves completely."
Silence.
Titus did not change his expression.
"I don't care."
Direct.
"Find out which clan they belong to."
"Have them treated."
"Let them survive."
A pause.
"And when they are ready…"
His eyes returned to the front.
"…let them come to me."
The Duchess watched him.
A second longer than usual.
There was something different. Something that hadn't been there before.
It wasn't submission. It wasn't obedience.
It was recognition.
She lowered her head. A slight smile appeared. It wasn't mockery. It was… approval.
"Yes, my lord."
---
Hook: And that silence hid a danger that would soon come to light…