The Alphas' Pride Mate (The Pride Who Goes Into Heat)

MINE AND MY BROTHERS.

Chapter: 56
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The acrid scent of charred wood and smoldering debris lingered in the air as the once magnificent VIP club lay in ruins, a twisted skeleton of its former glory. The once gleaming mahogany paneling was cracked and broken, and chunks of scorched wood were scattered over the floor. Only the walls themselves retained any semblance of function, having been partially covered with a layer of soot from the fires that had consumed the building.

Several windows were cracked, and one had been blown out by the blast. It had taken some time for the flames to dissipate enough to allow the structure to be assessed by the firefighters. Even then, there hadn't been much they could do. A great deal of damage had been inflicted on the interior while it still stood. It could hardly have escaped any damage. Still, they had done their best under the circumstances.

They had even managed to save several pieces of furniture and objets d'art before the heat and the smoke rendered them useless. Most of those items now littered the floor around the shattered remains of what used to be the front entrance, yet it seemed the smoke hadn't entirely cleared, days later.

Kurt sat amid the remains of his beloved clubhouse, staring at it in dismay. He sighed deeply, turning to meet the investigator scanning the place, a frown lined his features. "I need answers, Detective," Kurt's voice was a low growl, barely contained fury simmering beneath the surface. "Who is responsible for this fire that consumed my empire?"

The lead detective, a seasoned investigator with a weathered face etched with lines of experience, shuffled through the charred remnants of evidence. "We're working on it, Mr. Kurt," he began, his tone cautious. "But as of now, we have no leads. It's a complex case."

"Working on it?!" Kurt bit back, the lines etched across his brows darkening. "This is foul play at work here, someone had deliberately caused this fire!" Kurt spat incredulously, gesturing vaguely at the burned-out rubble of the lounge area.

"We're still investigating, Mr. Kurt. It's too early to point fingers," the second investigator responded calmly. His name badge identified him as Detective Thomas, the expression on his face one of sympathy. He gave Kurt an apologetic look. "It will take a while to determine who might have started this fire, but we will make sure that they are brought to justice. We promise you." There was a slight edge to his tone, however. The investigation clearly wasn't getting anywhere.

Kurt's jaw clenched, his impatience simmering beneath the surface. The detective's incompetence grated on his nerves as he absorbed the detective's words. How could they not know what had caused the fire that razed a venue worth billions to the ground?

"How long until you have any concrete leads?" Kurt demanded, his frustration evident.

Turning away from the detective's patronizing tone, Kurt seethed with impatience.

"Mr. Kurt, after interviewing staff and customers present during the incident, one could hypothesize this as a natural event," the first detective interjected, a faint smile on his lips.

Kurt's jaw clenched, his patience wearing thin, the suggestion that the fire could be attributed to natural causes was like a match to gasoline, igniting a blaze of rage within him.

"Natural causes?" Kurt's voice was a thunderclap in the smoky silence, his eyes ablaze with indignation. "Do you insult my intelligence? My club was a fortress, impervious to such trivialities. Someone did this intentionally, and I want their head on a platter!"

Nodding quickly to his words, Detective Thomas replied. "Of course, sir, we will do everything that we can to find the perpetrators."

Understanding that the detectives might not be able to handle his case, Kurt decided to dismiss them. With a screech of anger, he pushed back his chair, the sound reverberating through the charred remnants of his once-vibrant establishment. The detectives watched in silence as Kurt, a man accustomed to commanding attention and obedience, rose like a titan from the ashes.

"You're wasting my time," he declared, his tone cutting like a knife. "I'll find the answers myself." With a final glare at the detectives, he strode away, his expensive shoes crunching on the debris-strewn floor.

The men looked at each other, uncertainty evident on their faces. Neither one wanted to risk displeasing him. However, neither wanted to let him down either. They had to do what they could to protect their jobs.

Seated in the plush interior of his limousine, Kurt swiftly dialed a number, summoning a private investigator known for solving convoluted mysteries.

After a few rings, a gruff voice answered on the other end. "How can I assist you, sir?"

Kurt's smile was icy as he recognized the voice. "Yes, Mr. Burt Fellow," the Lycger replied smoothly. "My club has been reduced to ashes, and I need you to uncover the culprit behind the fire."

A soft sigh preceded Burt's response. "Consider it done... I'll update you in the next forty-two hours." With that, he ended the call.

Kurt set his cell phone in his lap, his lips quirking into a satisfied smirk. He didn't doubt his instincts; Burt was a formidable man, ruthless, merciless, and thorough in his work. He had made numerous enemies throughout his lifetime and many more connections thanks to his ruthless efficiency. Those incompetent detectives can go to hell, along with whoever they think they're trying to protect.

Speaking of protection, Kurt turned to his assistant seated beside him, He interrupted the man's work on his tablet. "Blaine?" He called, and the man quickly put down his tablet and faced his boss. "Who runs this city?"

Blaine straightened slightly as he responded. "Sir, the King Maker, also known as La Sala, is the go-to person for information and getting things done. He's the man to befriend." Pausing as he noticed Kurt's grand smile, Blaine asked tentatively, "Sir?"

Kurt's casual query startled Blaine. "Did you know that the King Maker is my mate, mine and my brother's?" Kurt mentioned, amusement evident in his tone.

Blaine blinked in surprise, prompting Kurt to burst into laughter. After regaining his composure, Kurt shook his head, then grabbed his phone, turning it on. Addressing Blaine, he commanded, "Order the reconstruction of the club," he said, his voice brooking no argument. "Make it grander than before, ten times more magnificent."

Agreeing quickly, Blaine responded, "Yes, Boss," before returning to his tablet.

A sudden shiver ran down Kurt's spine, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Abruptly tossing his phone aside, he began unbuttoning his shirt, momentarily distracting Blaine, who quickly refocused on his task.

"Stop the car!" Kurt ordered upon hearing Bane's call, followed by Tricc's voice.

"Are you alright, sir?" Blaine inquired, observing Kurt closely.

Kurt nodded and exited the vehicle. "Handle my meetings for the next two days and refrain from scheduling any appointments until you hear from me," he instructed before shutting the door, leaving Blaine to carry out his directives. Shifting mid-air, he began to make a run toward the direction of their mate's call. His pheromones were present, albeit not so potent, yet enough to lead them. Bane was too weak it made their Lycgers restless even as they ran.

Upon arriving at the abandoned hall, the Lycgers discovered their weak mate, drenched in Malta's pheromones, robotically uttering rejection and sorrow, as though he had been programmed to speak those words. The Lycgers stood over him, listening to his painful words, but their anguish paled in comparison to the sight of his bleeding. They understood that something terrible had occurred, and knowing that only one doctor comprehended Dirk's unique health conditions, they swiftly transported him to St. Mont hospital.

Upon arrival, they were escorted via a private elevator to the exclusive floor reserved for Dirk and his nurses. The Lycgers settled him in his room, and though Dr. Naam protested, they ultimately left the room, lingering outside the door. Their imposing presence caused the nurses and bodyguards to keep their distance.

Restlessly, they awaited Dr. Naam's arrival, their anxiety evident in their tense postures.