Betrayed by an alpha claimed by a lycan king

SAGE

Scott pushed the heavy door open, the creak echoing through the dimly lit interior of The Rusty Fang. The scent of old wood, spilled ale, and a faint metallic tang greeted us. Inside, the bar was quiet except for a low murmur of voices. A handful of patrons lingered at scattered tables, their faces shadowed under dim hanging lanterns.

We followed Scott as he led us to a secluded corner where a man sat alone. His presence was imposing despite his seemingly relaxed posture. The hunter exuded an air of rugged charm that was impossible to ignore. His chiseled features were weathered, as if he'd spent more time battling the elements than under a roof. A faint scar traced the length of his right cheekbone, a testament to a life lived dangerously. His jawline was strong, covered in a day's worth of scruff that only added to his appeal, and his piercing green eyes seemed to see far more than they let on.

His dark, tousled hair fell just to the nape of his neck, giving him an untamed look that paired perfectly with his broad shoulders and muscular build. He wore a worn leather jacket over a black shirt that clung to his frame; the fabric frayed just enough to suggest years of hard use. A faint, earthy scent of leather and pine seemed to follow him, making him seem like he belonged more to the wilderness than any civilized city.

Despite his rugged appearance, there was a sharpness in his gaze-a wit and intelligence that hinted he wasn't just brawn. His smirk, quick and crooked, carried the confidence of a man who had seen it all and survived to tell the tale. Yet, beneath the surface, there was a shadow in his eyes, a glimpse of someone who had paid the price for the life he led.

"You're late," the man said, his voice low and gravelly.

Scott offered a tense smile as he pulled out a chair and sat across from him. "Had to make sure we weren't followed. You know how it is."

The hunter leaned back in his chair, his gaze shifting briefly to Titus, then to me. His eyes lingered for a moment, narrowing slightly before he returned his attention to Scott. "Let's skip the pleasantries. What do you want?"Original content from NôvelDrama.Org.

Titus stepped forward, his commanding presence drawing the hunter's attention immediately. The air seemed to shift around him, his tone firm yet calculated. "We need your expertise," he began, his deep voice cutting through the murmur of the bar. "There are several groups we need to track down and persuade to join our cause. These aren't ordinary negotiations -they're delicate, and the stakes are high."

The hunter's sharp green eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. "So, we're not hunting rouges this time, huh? It sounds like you're not just after alliances. What's the catch?"

Titus didn't flinch under the hunter's scrutiny. "Some of these groups are... wary of outsiders. Others are outright hostile. We need someone who knows the terrain, their habits, and how to approach them without igniting conflict."

Scott chimed in, his voice less commanding but no less serious. And someone who knows how to handle trouble if it comes to that."

The hunter let out a low chuckle, a rough sound that hinted at years of experience in dangerous dealings. "You're not just looking for a guide-you're looking for someone who can do the dirty work if things go south."

Titus's jaw tightened slightly, but he met the hunter's gaze without wavering. "We need someone who can navigate the unpredictable. Someone who won't falter when things get complicated. Can you do that?"

The hunter smirked, his expression a mix of amusement and intrigue. "I can. But let me guess-you're not telling me the whole story, are you?"

Titus's lips twitched in the faintest hint of a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You'll get the full picture when you need to. For now, all you need to know is that we're building something bigger than any one pack. Something worth fighting for." The hunter studied him for a moment longer, then leaned back in his chair with a shrug. "Fair enough. I'm in-for the right price."

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Titus nodded, signaling to Scott, who placed a heavy envelope of cash on the table. The hunter glanced at it briefly before meeting Titus's gaze again.

Scott reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope filled with cash, tossing it onto the table.

"One hundred grand," Scott said. "And there's more where that came from if you deliver."

The hunter chuckled, his fingers closing the envelope, "Cash is a good start," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "But I don't think that's enough to cover everything that's at risk."

Titus's gaze grew colder, his jaw tightening as he squared his shoulders, unwavering. His voice was a calm yet deadly whisper, the kind that made the air around us feel thicker, more dangerous. "What could possibly be more valuable than money?"

The hunter's smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with predatory amusement. He took a slow step forward, his movements deliberate as his hand lifted, the dagger glinting in the low light. The blade pointed straight at me, and in that moment, I felt every ounce of tension in the room coil like a taut wire ready to snap.

"Her," the hunter said, his voice low and thick with meaning as he pointed his dagger right at me.

Titus's eyes darkened, the storm brewing within him. But his voice remained steady and controlled, even though I could see the muscles in his jaw working-the subtle twitch of restraint. "She's not part of this deal," he said, his words deliberate, each one carrying the weight of a promise he wasn't ready to break.

The hunter only smiled wider, clearly enjoying the tension he had created, savoring the power he held in this moment. "Well, she is now," he said, his eyes flicking between me and Titus.

**