The girl who accompanied Angus was, of course, none other than Ziva. And right now, she wore a smug smile, openly relishing the shock on the faces around her as they took in her father.

As they should.

Lilian and the other witches remained outside, dealing with any werewolf guards foolish enough to interfere. They had arrived under the cover of a massive sleeping spell, one that had swept through the perimeter and knocked out most of the guards where they stood.

But not all of them had been caught within its radius and those who weren’t, well, they hadn’t lasted long enough to be a problem.

"Angus."

The name slipped from someone’s lips.

It was the usurper. The so-called current Alpha King. Or more accurately, his brother, Elijah.

At the mention of that name, everything changed. The air tightened.

"Angus?"

"Former Alpha King Angus?"

The name spread across the room like a cursed thing, whispered from one mouth to another ominously.

Ziva nearly sneered at the one who had dared to call him former. For all she knew, her father had never stopped being king.

And now, they were all about to remember it.

Recognition began to dawn on the faces of the sub-alphas who hadn’t identified Angus at first glance. One by one, their expressions changed from confusion into realization, and realization twisting into fear.

A low murmur rippled through the hall, growing louder with each passing second.

Eyes darted between Elijah and the man who stood in the entrance like a ghost dragged back from the grave.

What was he doing here?

"Peace be on this house," Angus said dramatically, spreading his arms wide as though he were some honored guest arriving at a celebration, and had not just crashed an important meeting.

He turned to Elijah, who stood a few feet away from him looking ready to tear the walls apart. Angus smiled wickedly.

"Little brother," he drawled, "how could you not invite the main character to his own unveiling?" He placed a hand over his chest in mock offense. "I’m hurt."

Elijah’s lips peeled back in a snarl.

"Get out."

The amusement on Angus’ face thinned almost instantly, leaving behind an unsettling coldness.

His face hardened as he said, voice low and dangerous, "Make me."

Elijah did not call for his men. Not when they were either unconscious outside or already dead.

Instead, he bared his teeth, sharp and glinting beneath the lights, before releasing a roar so violent it reverberated through the entire meeting room, rattling nerves and making a few of the weaker wolves flinch where they stood.

Ziva recognized the shift in him immediately and instinctively moved to step forward. But Angus lifted a hand, stopping her before she could interfere.

She looked up at him, questioning but the look he gave her in return said enough. He could fight his own battles. So she stayed back.

And when Elijah charged at him with claws out, eyes wild, every inch of him moving with the full intention to maim, Angus did not move from his spot. Not even an inch.

He simply stood there as Elijah struck once.

Then again, and again. His claws swiped left and right in a frenzy of violence, aiming for the flesh, bone, or something that would tear, split, bleed.

Except nothing happened. To Elijah’s shock and dismay, his claws could not penetrate Angus’ skin no matter how hard he struck. It didn’t matter the force he put behind it, it was like trying to cut through stone.

A trace of confusion crossed Elijah’s features. It was followed by disbelief and finally something dangerously close to fear.

Bewildered, he looked up at his brother with wide, disbelieving eyes and Angus laughed. A deep, ugly guffaw that carried far too much amusement for Elijah’s liking.

"You didn’t seriously think you were the only one wearing charms, did you?" Angus mocked.

Everyone in that room knew he was talking

Elijah’s necklace, the one made to ward off psychic attacks from the likes of his heir candidate, Asher Nightshade.

Realization dawned on Elijah. Though he tried to bury it quickly, his brother caught that tiny flicker of fear. That moment of weakness.

The smile that spread across Angus’ face after that was pure devilish delight. Without warning, he grabbed Elijah by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground.

A collective gasp was heard through the room. Elijah’s feet kicked uselessly in the air, his fingers clawing at Angus’s wrist, but it did nothing.

Yes, Angus was far stronger now. The witches had seen to that. Their spells were imbued into his body, sharpening his muscles, and every ounce of his Alpha strength.

He had not come into this room unprepared. He was here to take what rightfully belonged to him.

There was perhaps no quicker way to kill hope than to watch your once powerful Alpha King get lifted off the floor like he was nothing more than a mere boy.

A ripple of panic spread through the sub-alphas almost instantly, nervous sweat gathering along their brows. Even the Alphas looked visibly shaken. This was no ordinary display of strength, but a public humiliation.

Angus wasn’t just overpowering Elijah. He was making a vicious statement.

Look. Even your Alpha King cannot save you. So who exactly are you to stand against me?

Angus let Elijah dangle there, kicking uselessly in the air, relishing the way his movements gradually weakened the longer his air supply was cut off. There was something deeply satisfying about the helpless look on Elijah’s face. Something that soothed an old, festering wound inside him.

He had dreamed of this day. Dreamed of the moment he would finally punish his insolent little brother for what he had done. The bastard had declared him dead and left him to rot like a corpse long before his heart had even stopped beating.

But clearly, the Goddess had not been done with him yet. She had reached into the grave and dragged him back out. Gave him a second chance at life. And Angus intended to use every bit of it to exact his revenge.

Of course, he had no intention of killing Elijah. Not yet. He was still his little brother after all, and in a sick, twisted way, Elijah had taken care of things in his absence.

So no. Death would be too merciful. He would leave him alive to suffer and regret ever abandoning him.

So he tossed Elijah aside as if he was nothing more than a rag doll.

Elijah’s body slammed hard against the floor, his head cracking against the surface with a sickening sound. Pain split through him at once, and darkness immediately began to crawl into the edges of his vision.

This time, he did not fight it. He let it take him.

Around the room, the werewolves watched in stunned silence. Some swallowed audibly.Others stood frozen, too shaken to even pretend they weren’t afraid.

A heavy silence settled over the hall like smoke after a fire. With Alpha King Elijah down, no one knew what Angus intended to do next.

Irene took a leap of faith.

"What do you want, Angus?"

Angus slowly lifted his head to look at her, visibly intrigued. Perhaps it was because she was a woman. Or perhaps it was because she was the only one in the room with enough courage to actually speak.

His gaze dragged over her slowly, taking her in from head to toe like he was assessing a strange little creature that had unexpectedly grown teeth.

"Irene Hale," he said at last, voice almost thoughtful. "Daughter of Oswald Hale..."

Then, with a faint glimmer of delight in his eyes, he added,

"And brother killer."

Irene flinched. That was a dark Chapter of her life she did not like revisiting.

Angus, of course, did not care.

"I knew your father back in the day," he went on casually. "I must admit, I thought him a fool for placing so much power in the hands of his first daughter when he had a son. But it turned out you ruled the East Pack far better than your useless brother ever would have."

Aeron spoke up. "What is the point of all this, Angus?"

"Ahh, yes. You." Angus noticed him too.

He gave a low chuckle before glancing back at Irene.

"Funny, isn’t it?" he mused. "You married the famed Twin Assassins, yet never forgave your brother for hiring them in the first place. Seems a bit unfair to me, don’t you think?"

He clearly found Irene’s twisted love life deeply amusing.

Someone snarled openly. Just like that,

Angus’s attention shifted to Ezra.

And Angus’s expression darkened the moment his gaze landed on the way Ezra stood protectively in front of Nancy. Disapproval flashed plainly across his face.

"Has our culture truly become so lax, that we now invite our human bitches into important Alpha meetings?" Angus said with cold disgust.

"How dare you—!"

Ezra’s eyes flashed violently, and he would have lunged if Nancy hadn’t caught him in time, her hand locking around his arm with more force than expected.

Ezra was no match for Angus and Nancy knew it. She would swallow a thousand insults from that man if it meant keeping her mate alive. Besides, she had heard words like that her entire life, it was nothing new.

Still, this time Angus’s gaze settled fully on her. Nancy’s heart began to pound.

He smiled at her.

"I do have to thank you," he said.

Nancy frowned.

"For taking care of my daughter, Violet. You raised her a little too well."

Nancy had no idea whether that was meant as a compliment or an insult.

And frankly, that was the least of her problems because another commotion was already breaking out.

"Did he just say Violet?" Leon demanded, his voice filled with disbelief. "You mean Violet Purple?"

"Ahh, right." Angus sounded almost amused again. "Did I forget to mention my half-Fae, half-werewolf daughter? Violet Purple."

Then, almost lazily, he added, "I suppose I should also thank her mother, the Fae Queen, for keeping me alive during my lowest period. Otherwise, I would have been long dead by now."

But by then, no one was truly listening to the rest of his explanation anymore.

Their minds were still struggling to catch up with the revelation.

Violet Purple was Angus’s daughter.