Arthur POV

We travelled from the middle of nowhere, England, to the middle of nowhere, Algeria. Omar’s private jet glided between the illuminated lines as we landed late that night. Two off-road white vehicles sped towards us before the boarding stairs fully connect to the plane. My teeth chattered from the unexpected cold when I took hesitant steps through the door of the plane. My hand trembled on the handrail until I reached the asphalt.

Omar hugged a young man standing by the car and spoke in a language like none I ever heard before. “Tamazight,” he said, “the language of the indigenous people of North Africa.” A heavy brown cape was dropped on my shoulders—A burnous. Its harsh material itched my skin. Omar had one as well, reddish brown, with a triangular hoodie that none of the men ever used. I squared my shoulders, feeling like an alpha, all fangs and claws. The burnous slipped from my narrow shoulders, and I kept pulling the sides until the entire front was bundled up in my arms. Omar threw the right side of his burnous over his left shoulder and climbed in the vehicle. I did the same.

The car took us far away from the artificial lights and the empty streets they lit, to an open landscape of hills, stars, and mysteries. The ride was long and uncomfortable, bumping all the way on what I later learned were sand hills. I didn’t know how we reached our destination without signs or roads, but we did.

Omar fixed a turban on my head like the one he was wearing. A long white cloth that he weaved in a manner I couldn’t replicate. His first words to me since we landed were, “Cover your face, boy.”

My heart pummeled into my stomach as a million scenarios went through my mind. Why would I cover my face?

The door to my left peeled open and a set of dark brown eyes was all I saw on the man’s covered face. Turning to Omar, I found his face shrouded, too. My hand shot up to the hem of my turban, fumbling to veil my face. When I jumped off the car, a haboob hit me like a wall of needles. I brought my arms up to shield my face since my loose wrap failed to protect me. I squeezed my eyes shut, overwhelmed by the foreign tongue that was spoken around me, the foreign weight rubbing against my neck, and the pale light flickering in the darkness like a withered hope. Every step I took was a lost battle against the sand sinking under my feet. A lump grew in my throat, blocking my scream from piercing the sky and shaking the ground all the way to my father. Maybe then he’d hear me. Maybe he’d see the injustice he inflicted on me. I swayed under the weight of my predicament. When I finally tripped and fell, I was snatched before I hit the ground. My cape dropped from my shoulders, and I was slammed against a hard chest. Serenity enveloped me. There was no more wind stealing my breath, no more sand whipping my face. I was warm and covered under Omar’s burnous. As he walked, the steady thumbing of his heart and the rumble of his chest as he chanted his language lulled me to sleep.

Today, I was the one wearing the burnous with Blenda under my wing. It didn’t dig into my neck like it used to and didn’t slip from my shoulders. As we crossed the courtyard to the command room, I hoped I had become the man Omar wished me to be.

The corridor leading to the command room was cleared, but the trace of the fight couldn’t be erased from the stone floor. I pressed Blenda further against my side and marched over the holes my bomb had left. Our footsteps and shuffling bounced off the walls to fill the silence. When we reached the door, I shrugged off the burnous and adjusted it on her. Blenda stuck her head inside the hoodie. I didn’t correct her. I threw the hem over her shoulder. It slipped, and I chuckled. “I like it on you. You should keep it.”

“I shred my coat when I shifted.” She peered at me from under the hoodie. “Thank you,” she whispered, and a bolt of energy shot through me. Just give me a weapon and send me to war.

A tap under her chin was all I could master without combusting into flames. “Oh, Blenda bear. Just get inside.”

She smiled, and I almost forgot why we were here. Almost, but then she opened the door, and my eyes zeroed in on the empty chair next to the king—Omar’s chair. The implication of his death caught up on me.

Dead meant gone.

I didn’t feel a thing. Some pain was like that; when it hit, it stunned. My eyes stayed glued to the chair as something cold grew around my body, leaving me a floating conscience, dissociated from place and time. It was strange, but safe, like a spectator of my own story.

The chatter halted around me, or maybe I blocked it out as I walked inside and pulled my chair for Blenda to sit. I then settled between her and the king, on Omar’s chair.

It’s just a chair. Just a chair.

I took a deep breath and faced all the eyes that bore into me. If they were looking for a crack, they wouldn’t find one. We all had lost someone dear today, but I wouldn’t be the one to throw a pity party while life-changing events were ahead of us.

“Thank you for joining us. It was my belief that you needed a moment. Therefore, I didn’t summon you.”

“Thank you, my king.”

“Blenda, I can’t say I’m surprised by your performance. You’re a Kämpfer (fighter) after all. We appreciate your quick thinking.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his inside pocket. He put it on the table and pushed it towards her. “We found this with the soldiers you killed. It belongs to you now.”

Blenda tugged at the blue fabric to reveal a dagger. It was plain, with a black handle and sheath. She held it between her hands and unsheathed it. The blade caught light in a way that caused my wolf’s hackles to rise. It was silver.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Steve, brief them of what they missed.”

My gaze traveled three chairs to the left of the king. From behind his laptop, Steve said, “Today’s primary goal was accomplished. We eliminated the enemy. Julius and all his men are neutralized. The casualties on our side are three dead men: Sergeant Frank…”

Who has a mole above his right eyebrow, I thought.

“Sergeant Elliot…”

The silent giant who just had a pup.

“General Omar.”

Larger than life. Words can’t describe him.

“and two injured: Daniel…”

The jokester, but with a poor sense of humor.

“Tristan.”

The tech savvy. He always has mint gum on him.

“We counted twenty humans between dead and injured. The rest of the platoon is captured and held in the cells.”

“What about the hostages?” I asked.

“We lost them. The sub submerged and disappeared in the ocean,” Ethan said. His face was impassive like a mask.

“How about the participants in the tunnels?” I asked again, looking for good news for Blenda’s sake.

“Two dead, three injured, three missing.” Dr. Garcia read from a piece of paper.

“Missing?” Benda asked, straightening up.

“Missing.” He nodded.

“Who is who?” she asked.

“The ones who are deceased are Sebastian and Amara. The ones injured Yushi and Zuri—they’re mates—and Adana. Giovanni, Igor, and Josh are missing.”

I squeezed her hand. “What of the missing?”

“That’s what we’re currently at,” said the king. “The gentlemen suggested two scenarios. Either they ran away, or they have been kidnapped. If it’s the first, they must still be on the island. If it’s the second, the humans must have taken them.”

“Or Julius’ people,” Ethan said.

“That’s a possibility, too, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said the king, flattening his hands on the table. “First, we search the fort and the island.

“Dr. Garcia, is Tristan stable enough to help us with the CCTV footage?”

“He should be, but if you want him here, we’ll need some arrangements.”

“This is confidential. It should be done here.”

He peered at the clock and sighed. “There are many topics we didn’t cover, but I’m running out of time. I have to fly back home tonight. The palace is not stable. They’ve heard of what happened here, and rumors are rocking the place. Also, the palace needs to release a statement soon before we start calling the packs and telling them about their warriors.

“Arthur, I’m entrusting you with everything here. Finish the clean up and tie up any loose ends.”

“I got this, my king.”

“Send me a detailed report about everything that happened here before tomorrow night. I’m going to need them when I call the humans.”

“Roger that.”

The king stood up. “Thank you. I’m going to check on the injured now. Dr. Garcia?”

Not waiting for an answer, he walked towards the door, and the doctor followed him.