Alpha Razor King-Chapter 72: Rising Conflict.

**Razor**

With a nod, I motioned for the creatures to attack. They lunged at me, their claws and teeth bared, but I was ready. I dodged their attacks with ease, moving swiftly between them as I struck back with ease.

One by one, I took them down, each one falling to my blade. Damon’s confidence wavered as he watched his stupid ass creatures being defeated by a single werewolf.

Finally, I stood face to face with Damon. He was pale and sweaty, realizing he was cornered. "You can’t defeat me, Razor," he snarled, trying to sound confident.

Just then, Dean and some of my men rushed into the room, surprised to see bodies littered everywhere. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

"Boss, everything is under control," Dean reported, his smirk directed at Damon, who was backed into a corner.

"Call the men and tell them to search around for my wife. She ran... she couldn’t have gone far," I instructed, my eyes never leaving the bastard in front of me.

"Yes, sir," Dean replied, already making the call to mobilize the rest of our pack.

I turned back to Damon, a devilish smile playing on my lips. "Tie him up on the chair. And take off his clothes first," I ordered my men, who rushed to obey me.

I sat on the desk, looking down at Damon, who was now tied up and helpless before me. "How dare you think you could defeat me, you bastard," I sneered, relishing in the fear that flickered in his eyes.

Damon tried to muster up some courage. "You think you’ve won, but you have no idea what’s coming," he spat defiantly.

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," I replied, my voice low and dangerous. "And trust me, you’re not going to like it."

"What...what are you going to do to me?"

I stood up and slowly walked up to Damon, my eyes blazing with fury. "How dare you lay your filthy hands on my wife," I growled.

"I didn’t do that..." Damon started, but before he could finish his sentence, I plunged the blade into his left eye, gouging it out. He screamed, a harsh and cruel sound that filled the room.

"Fuck! Please... I swear..." Damon cried, gasping for air.

"Shut up," I gestured with one finger, my rage boiling over. "I warned you, but you refused to let go even after what your father did."

"Please..."

"Shut the fuck up," I interrupted, enraged by his pleas. I grabbed his left palm and sliced it off, causing yet another gruesome scream to fill the room as blood splattered on the floor.

"Stop begging me, you fool. How dare you? You killed my in-laws," I accused.

"I swear, I didn’t... I swear... those men were mercenaries... they weren’t my men," Damon pleaded desperately.

My forehead creased in a deep frown. What was he talking about?

"It was Tara. When we caught and interrogated one of them, he said Tara sent them to kidnap Isabella," Damon continued, his words shocking me to the core.

"You expect me to believe you?" I asked incredulously, unsure of whether to trust his words.

"I swear, I’m not lying... please... they were already dead before my men arrived," he begged.

My jaws clenched tightly. How could Tara do such a thing after I gave her a second chance? I swear I’ll fucking kill her when next I see her again

"Please spare me, Razor," Damon begged pathetically.

"Spare you?" I raised my brow, shaking my head in disbelief. "No... never."

With that, I plunged the blade into his right eye, gouging it out once again. He cried out in pain, his whole body squirming on the chair.

"Did you say you’ll turn my wife into a sex slave?" I chuckled darkly at the pathetic mess of a man in front of me. "Then let’s see how you’ll fuck again."

I grabbed his dick and sliced it off, relishing in his pain as he writhed on the chair.

"Please... please..." Damon begged frantically, but it only fueled my anger.

I squeezed his mouth open, forcefully bringing out his tongue before slicing it off.

"Perfect, now you can’t talk," I laughed, watching as he convulsed in pain.

Dean walked inside, his nose crunching in disgust at the pathetic, crying bastard. "Boss, we brought the cremation furnace. It’s downstairs."

"Good," I smiled. "Take him downstairs and put him inside quickly."

Damon tried to say something, but all that came out was a garbled mess. He was losing too much blood and would soon die, but I didn’t want him to die so easily.

We arrived downstairs where the cremation furnace was ready and waiting for us.

"Put him inside the coffin," I ordered my men. They took him immediately and placed him inside. He was shaking his head, probably protesting, but who cares.

"Put him inside."

They closed the coffin and carried him into the machine, placing it inside before switching it on. I watched emotionless as the machine did its thing, finally putting that bastard to rest.

For so many years, I had been waiting for this moment where I finally made this bastard pay, and now it was over. The only problem is Isabella. Wherever she is right now, I’ll not stop until I find her and bring her back home... to me.

"Are there any survivors?" I asked my men.

"No, sir, we made sure they all died," he replied.

"Good. Clean this place up and burn it to the ground."

"Yes, sir."

"Let’s leave this place. My wife is still out there. We need to find her before it gets dark," I told my men, motioning for them to move out.

"Boss, there’s a problem?" It was Dean, and his face was that of pure horror.

"What the fuck is the matter?" I asked impatiently.

"It’s Beta Tom. He’s taken over the pack, and he’s got Cross!"

"What the fuck are you talking about, Dean?" I barked, feeling my anger boiling hot.

"He’s got Cross, sir," Dean muttered reluctantly, "and he’s threatening to kill him."