[Las Vegas]
Las Vegas, widely regarded as the city of sins. A place where people came with the desire to let out all their deepest desires without a care in the world. A place where they could be free.
It was the place that had every vice possible and imaginable by humankind. A playground for adults. Of course, it had the largest amount of gambling dens in the entire world.
The casinos of Vegas were so numerous that they would make those who had never visited the city completely dizzy with just their numbers alone.
It was also a very dangerous city. With a crime rate almost as much as twice the national average.
All in all, it was a beautiful city of freedom and unfettering entertainment that hid how dangerous it could truly be under the veil of its propaganda that promoted fun.
In one of those casinos, scrolling through pages of floating holographic pictures was an old man with tanned skin that bordered on the reddish hue rather than your average tan. His expression was cold and the more he read the document, the colder his expression became.
Finally, he sighed and gazed at the second man sitting face-to-face in front of him. A young man with a complexion that was similar to the older man. Anyone looking at them for the first time could easily wager a guess that they were related. Most likely, father and son, and they would be right.
"So you gave orders to a group of mercenaries to capture the silver princess?"
His voice was calm and all expression vanished from his face to form an indifferent and uncaring mask as he asked that question to his prodigal son.
The young man showed a contrite expression as he mustered all his courage to reply to the old man, "Father. I need to have her—"
He was not allowed to finish his sentence as a hand with nails seemingly as sharp as a blade each clenched around his throat and tightened its hold on him.
A bestial growl resonated in the room, as the man who had looked like a simple and tired old man was now looking at his son with eyes shining in a maniacal red hue, emitting unrestrained bloodlust.
ραпdα Йᴏνê|(сòm) "Are you the Alpha, or am I?"
The young man choked due to the hold. He tried to claw out from his father's grasp but the hand of the old man seemed like steel. In the end, all he could do was let out a low trembling sound, like a scared puppy, through his throat, expressing his surrender.
Scoffing at his reaction, the old man threw the young one away as if he was disposing of some filthy trash.
"You are lucky that you are my only son. Otherwise, I would have snapped your neck right now."
The young man coughed repeatedly as he stood up while massaging his throat which had been marred by claw marks.
"This is not just a question of pleasure, father. You know already that the Alpha of that Pack refuses to work with us. If we can catch his daughter, I am sure that this will ease the negotiations and if I make her pregnant, they would have no other choice than to do as we wish."
The old man scoffed once again after hearing the ramblings of his descendant as he looked at his son with unbridled disgust. "Times have really changed. If you want her so much. Go and defeat her. Make her yield and submit by using your strength rather than those cowardly tricks!"
He was completely enraged. Again and again, he wondered where he had gone wrong in raising his son.
His ancestors would weep and howl their lungs out in shame if they could see this shameful sight and his deceased wife would scold him like a mad woman for not bringing up their son right.
"Your mating rituals are outdated. Furthermore, using my influence is a form of power in itself. Why should I not use it then?"
The son directed an equally disgusted stare toward his father. He could never understand those old bastards who were still immersed in tradition even though there was no difference either way.
But this did not matter to the older one of the two as he sneered at the lame excuse that was given. "Don't make me laugh. You were simply too scared to face the silver princess, weren't you?"
"Why are you so against my actions!? It isn't like your hands aren't drenched in blood already, right?"
"It's because I fucking know how to pick my enemies!!"
All the gentlemanly manners vanished out the window and were replaced by pure and absolute rage at how clueless his son truly was.
He closed his eyes as he made a decision.
"Call them back and leave Las Vegas. I will give you a few able males and some mates for you to form a new pack in another state."
"Father. You are disowning me!?"
"I am not. You just need more training to forge your personality. You need to understand that you cannot mess with everyone just because you are my heir. The pack will never follow you if you are weak."
This was a fact. This was not a kingdom. Being his Heir gave him an inherent advantage. But if he proved to be unworthy, he would be challenged by the others.
"Why are you overreacting!? I just sent a group of veteran mercenaries. They are hunters with a great reputation. Furthermore, they have no way to know I am the client."
"You are truly a sore disappointment."
The man sat down and took one of the drinks arranged on his table.
Those drinks were encased in crystalline bottles and were just used for display but he did not care as he only wanted to drink now and calm down the growing bloodlust that was growing in him. If it was a subordinate that made such a mistake, he would have never forgiven him.
"Call them back."
As long as the attack wasn't already launched there was still a way to salvage the situation. He didn't fear the Alpha of the Great Wolves. This was not Russia after all.
This wasn't their home ground. Moreover, they were in Las Vegas, far away from Los Angeles where they still held some semblance of influence of their Russian heritage. That man could hardly extend his arms to this territory.
But werewolves cared greatly about honor. Whether they were criminals or not. If it was to become known that his son had launched such an insidious strike simply because he could not chase after a mate himself, then the honor of the tribe would be severely damaged and some upstart would start attacking them.
'I am becoming old.'
Unlike vampires, werewolves were not immortal. Powerful ones like him could stay alive for at most two hundred years or three hundred years if they were lucky and didn't get offed along the way. But that was as much as their lifespans went.
'I failed you.'
He sighed and looked down, not paying attention to the vicious gaze his son was directing toward him.
He still had hopes for the boy. He did not wish to give up on the last proof that his mate had lived.
He had been urged many times to take a few mates in order to sire many more children, but he simply did not wish to do so. At least, until now that was.
His love for his deceased mate was eternal. But he could not continue fostering a child that showed no sign of maturity despite already being 60 years old.
'One more chance. Just one more. I am sure he can change. I am sure that the fruit of our love can not be this rotten.'
"Now leave and make sure to call off this operation."
The young man arranged his suit angrily and left.
———
"Argh!!! That old bastard!"
Sweeping everything on the table of his office, the same man that was scolded by his father was raging and throwing a tantrum like a child.
He could not believe that his old man would act like such an outdated monarch even now.
He took his phone and dialed a number. But it was not the one that linked him to the mercenaries he had hired.
[Hello…]
A sweet but dangerous voice tickled his ear.
"I considered your offer. I accept."
[My, my. Then congratulations are in order. I believe you will make a great Alpha.]
"Humph!"
He sneered, not caring for her flattery.
[Of course, you know we will not do this for free, right?]
"Do not worry. I do not have the stupid moral hang up of my father. If humans want to kill themselves with Fairy Dust, I am more than happy to make money on their backs."
[Very well.]
"Just be sure. My old man may be old but he is still a powerful and wise wolf."
[Trust me. This will change nothing.]
The call ended on those words and the young man gave a cold smile.
The old wolf had lasted long enough on the throne. Since the old bastard wanted to disown him, he would take matters into his own hands.
Until then, he had to act and follow the orders of that old geezer like an obedient puppy.
He took his secured phone and called the number of the mercenaries he had hired.
He waited. Then waited some more.
But no matter how long he waited…
No one answered back.
(AN: Welp. Things moving in the background. Man, sometimes I forget this was supposed to be a story about a Gigolo. Gotta get back to the origin. Once I finish with the Hunting arc I will go back to some good seduction of lady for money.)
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