Inside a limo, a gloomy Marcos sat at the back of its lavish chairs, his eyes blankly staring out the window as the scenery blurred due to the moving car, his brain on repeat mode, cruelly playing the events from earlier.
"Your Highness," the driver called, catching his attention, his gaze meeting that of his driver's, whose head was seen through the mirror, slightly lowered.
"We have arrived."
"Mm," he hummed, calming the turbulent storm in his eyes.
He straightened his appearance, all thoughts, and emotions vanishing like a mirage.
In its place, an emotionless mask was applied, concealing his broken appearance.
He signaled to the guard beside his car's door, and with a nod, he watched as the door opened.
He stepped out of the limo with a red carpet already spread out for him, making his entry look majestic and regal as those around him cowered at his powerful form.
Their heads lowered subconsciously in dread, awe, and admiration.
He strode up the carpet, the doors being thrust open by the guards stationed at the front door.
A mirror caught his eye, and without noticing it, he scanned his reflection.
The blue tuxedo he wore emphasized his huge muscular frame, making his silvery-blue eyes look sharp.
He pursed his lips, a slight crease on his eyebrows, a flicker of emotion flashing in his eyes before disappearing.
He carried on with his actions, the door opening, and a harbinger announcing his arrival.
"Presenting his royal highness, King Marcos Martinez."
Immediately the voice rang through, all backs bent forward in submission to the huge man who strolled causally and dully into the ball.
"Rise," he said, making his way to his seat, which was placed in the middle of the ballroom.
Beside his were other thrones placed three steps lower than his, signifying his authority.
His eyes landed on the second throne placed beside his, which was meant for his mate.
Just thinking of her made him feel different things he could not describe, but never once were they displayed on his face.
The commencement of the ball began in full procession after his arrival.
Different colors of dresses flashed before him, the air becoming lively as music tinkled in, but all in all, he noticed the stiffness in their actions.
As expected, everywhere he went or whoever he met had this expression. It was no surprise to him; in fact, it almost made him chuckle.
They were all too quick to judge, never giving people the benefit of the doubt. Just like his mate.
"Your Highness," a voice called, his gaze falling on the couple in front of him, who were resting on their knees with their heads bowed.
"Rise," he ordered with a wave of his hand. "Vincent, it's been such a long time; how are you?"
"Quite good, your highness; what about you?" The man, Vincent, replied, keeping his tone light.
"I am glad you asked," he said lightly, his words sounding far from his actions or detached voice. Pausing, he finally noticed the woman by his side. "I see you have found your mate; congratulations."
The indifference in his tone was very strong and obvious, but his rare praise made up for his lack of enthusiasm.
"Thank you, your majesty, but I should also be saying the same to you as well." He said it respectfully.
It could already be known that among the few people who could interact with Marcos, Vincent was among them.
At the mention of his mate, Marco's already gloomy expression turned sour.
"Thanks," he answered dryly, his eyes already moving away from the person in front of him.
"I seem to have bothered your highness; it also seems your mate is a rather sour spot for you," Vincent stated, already putting his neck on the line.
A nasty look from Marcos, telling him not to push it, had Vincent backing down.
He chuckled, "I get it. I will be heading to my seat now, your highness." He mentioned it, but behind it, a faint mockery could be heard.
"Hm," Marcos responded, clearly already irritated at his friend. He sent him a glare, which the other person ignored, opting to go for his seat instead with a smug smile on his face.
An elder walked to his side, taking it as a cue for his speech and the official beginning of the ball.
He rose to his feet, the music coming to an abrupt end.
Instantly, heads and eyes turned to him, going silent. In place, the different gazes of different beings met his.
Years of training made him refined, causing him to maintain his expression without a crack.
"Welcome to the monthly royal submission; as your king, I am glad to have you all here for another one like this." He hesitated, beginning again. "I also thank the Luna goddess that you are all safe, as I still remember these faces I have seen for the past few months."
A few nods of acknowledgment and appreciation passed through the air.
"I know it must be very hard for some of you standing here; trust me, it isn't easy if I say so myself, but what do we do? We have been chosen by the goddesses and gods to lead their people as leaders; who are we to deny that?" He asked, his eyes scanning the crowd that had ineffably gone quiet.
He sighed. "As I said, we have no choice, and as usual, this ball has a purpose."
His voice grew sinister at the end, causing the once lively expressions to turn blue as they noticed the drop in temperature themselves.
His next words, however, were cut short as the already-closed doors to the halls were pushed open.
In the silence, the sound made from the door was too loud to be ignored.
The very next words of the announcer cut every piece of self-restraint he had ever known in all his life.
"Introducing His Excellency, Sir Carrion D'Angelo!"
He paled, gritting his teeth, his expression turning hostile in an instant.
Carrion was here, and that meant trouble.
"Hello, nephew," he heard him call, walking to him. "It's been a long time, but I hope I am not interrupting anything." He said that, smiling, but they both knew he did that on purpose.
"Nephew?"
"Oh my, I never knew His Highness had other relatives."
"Carrion." He growled, taking his steps towards the intruder called his uncle, hate filling his being. "Get out, now!"
"Oh, but why?" He asked, feigning
"You know why," he snarled. "You do not belong here; this is a meeting for royals only!"
Carrion chuckled, "And I am not royal enough? Or are you trying to be partial?"
A loud growl left Marco's lips: "You were never invited; get out!"
"Oh, I see, personal reasons." He chuckled, "But I am your uncle, nephew; how can you be so unkind to me?" He said it tauntingly.
Carrion walked slowly towards his 'nephew', a smug smile on his face, and when he was just close enough, he whispered, "Get ready to lose face; this is only the beginning."
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The heartless mafia Alpha king
Werewolf******* "Help, I don't know him." She cried, as she ran towards a group of men outside a bar. "Get back here right now, or you would regret ever asking them for help." He growled. " Please, you have to believe me. I don't know him." She cried again...
