Savage (Prime Collage)

Part 9

Apollo

For the past few weeks, after our unexpected dinners with the other elites, we've been bunking together in Saint's mini mansion. To outsiders, it might seem like some bonding ritual, but in reality, it's all about security. We need to ensure that sensitive information discussed among us doesn't leak beyond the confines of our "war room."

Sure, out in public, we put on our usual facade, but behind closed doors, in our war room—highly secured and tucked away in a corner of the mansion—we plan our moves. The information I received after my first time stepping into the war room made me question how truly trusting I was of other people.

The knowledge that I was manipulated to only bond with Sam, possibly resulting in losing my position as the next ruler of my pack if I didn't find my fated mate by my 25th birthday, raised a lot of questions. Who benefits the most from this arrangement? Who are my enemies, and who are my friends? Was it orchestrated by a rival pack, or was it someone from inside my own pack? These questions gnawed at me, fueling my determination to uncover the truth behind the manipulation.

But the most important revelation was that everything we were told, everything that seemed impossible and went against our nature, was a lie crafted by powerful people to control and preserve their status. It shattered the illusion of trust and integrity, leaving behind a bitter taste of betrayal. Now, more than ever, we had to navigate the treacherous waters of politics and power with a discerning eye, questioning every motive and scrutinizing every alliance. The truth was our greatest weapon, and uncovering it would be our salvation.

Saint's inner circle proved to be far more cunning and well-informed than anyone had previously imagined. From the outside, they appeared as golden boys—polite and friendly, yet simultaneously distant and cold. This carefully crafted image was essential for survival in the palace, where appearances could mean the difference between life and death. While outsiders may perceive the Elites as merely spoiled rich royalty, they were in reality a ruthless and vigilant killer squad, ready to protect their interests at any cost.

Indeed, Saint's strategic alliances extended beyond the confines of traditional werewolf packs. Kaelen Darkheart, heir to one of the most prestigious vampire bloodlines, was not your average vampire. While he didn't fit the description of the mythical pureblood vampires from ancient texts, his strength and cunning were undeniable. Despite his youthful appearance, Kaelen possessed a depth of power that belied his years, making him a force to be reckoned with in both vampire and human society.

In Kaelen, Saint found not only a formidable ally but also a kindred spirit—a fellow strategist who understood the complexities of palace politics and the dangers lurking within. Together, they formed an alliance that transcended their respective bloodlines, forging a bond based on mutual respect and shared ambition.

As they navigated the treacherous landscape of the Emperor's palace, Saint and Kaelen relied on each other's strength and cunning to outmaneuver their rivals. With Kaelen's insight into the shadowy world of vampire politics and Saint's keen intellect, they were a formidable duo, poised to challenge the status quo and carve out their own path to power and influence.

Saint had also established connections with other influential and powerful families, ensuring his position of strength within the intricate web of palace politics.

In addition to the inner circle's connections, there's also Dorian Frost, a 23-year-old magician and the nephew of the headmaster himself. Gifted in the most powerful forms of magic, Dorian serves as a calming presence within the group. Despite being the youngest among them, his wit and ability to diffuse tense situations make him a valuable asset. Dorian's popularity extends beyond his magical prowess; he possesses rare abilities, including emotional control, which further cements his status among all races.

And rounding out our crew is Caspian Void, Saint's cousin on his dad's side. Picture this: he's a towering werewolf with eyes so dark they could swallow you whole, and muscles that could give any gym buff a run for their money. But what sets him apart isn't just his intimidating presence—it's his loyalty. See, Caspian's got this magical bond thing with Saint. If he ever even thinks about pulling a fast one, poof! He's toast. Sounds extreme, right? But in the cutthroat world of the Emperor's palace, where everyone's plotting to stab you in the back, you've got to take loyalty seriously, even if it means a little magical insurance policy.

 Therefore, they spied on everyone and everything, keeping tabs on who was plotting, who they were conspiring with, and what their intentions were. When he heard Savage's name, one of the council members, mentioned in connection with a plan to undermine me as the successor to the Savage pack, they sprang into action.

They came here to investigate the rumor heard in the palace 2 years ago, surprised to find that I was already mated with Omega, Sam. Apparently, the information they received was false; I was mated with my true mate, and there was no danger to my position as an heir. However, that fateful night when Carnage emerged, attacking Sam, all lies surfaced. She was never my true mate.

After that night, they stayed to investigate further and await my dissenting because even the ruler of the empire himself stated that it was of utmost importance that I don't lose my position. The Elites would use anything they deemed necessary to ensure my position as the heir, even if my wolf's chosen one is not a werewolf shifter.

Only the elites are aware of my predicament with the vampire, and it's a bloody nightmare for both me and my wolf. Thinking back, I was a complete arsehole to her two years ago. Little did I know, I was under the influence of a damn potion, my thoughts muddled and emotions twisted. Now, the conundrum is this: I can't just waltz up to her and claim her as mine. She'd run for the hills, rejecting me without a second thought.

Moreover, she's not a wolf shifter, so she won't sense the bond between us. I'm stuck in limbo, questioning if bonding is even possible.

It involves knotting and marking through biting, and wolf venom is lethal to vampires. Yet, her body reacts to my presence, producing a slickness that betrays her desire. But if bonding is out of the question, I'll never truly know her intentions or who she's involved with. It's enough to drive a man mad.

Then there's the issue of feeding. She needs to feed, but she can't feed from me because I'm a shifter. And feeding is essential for vampires.

But after last night, I can't seem to shake her from my thoughts. My mind keeps drifting back to her dorm room, but damn it, today is Friday, and like every Friday, we Elites have a job to do: patrol the streets of Evergreen City, investigate possible threats.

Evergreen is a unique blend of modernity and ancient history, a college town where the old and the new converge. The entire old quarter bustles with activity, with every bar, café, and shop brimming with students and locals alike. But on Fridays, the city comes alive even more as people from surrounding lands and cities flock here to unwind and have fun.

Tonight, we're venturing into uncharted territory, a new club called Sin. As the name suggests, it caters to those with a taste for the darker side of life, especially the wealthy elite.

Sin is highly exclusive, with invitation-only events that promise the finest drinks and entertainment in the world. But lurking beneath its glamorous façade is the PIT, an underground arena where the rules are thrown out the window and people fight to the death. It's illegal, and Saint is determined to shut it down, but first, we need to gather intel on who's running the show and how it all operates.

I slipped into my designer black jeans, the kind that fit like a second skin and probably cost more than most people's rent for the month. My white tee was no cheap either, crafted from the finest cotton and tailored to show off every damn muscle. Topping it all off was my badass black leather jacket, imported from God-knows-where and worth more than some folks' cars. I leave my room and meet the other elites on the bottom floor. Everyone looks the part today, young men ready to let it loose.