Sinister Obsession: Macsen Massey (Emperor Series, #3) ✔️

Chapter 36

Chapter 36

The fight between the two brothers was eventually cancelled. Emperor Macsen went back to his chamber, and Emperor Maximus left for nowhere. In the dimly lit chamber, Macsen's voice reverberated with a lethal mix of fury and anguish. His eyes, once pools of warmth, now glowed with an intensity that sent shivers through the air. The revelation had shattered the fragile peace of his world, leaving behind the sharp shards of betrayal.

"So tell me again, the commander was the spy all along, and he fucking took her away from me? First of all, the audacity." Macsen's words cut through the heavy silence, each syllable laden with the weight of betrayal.

The servant, bowing respectfully, ventured to address the seething emperor. "Your majesty, I believe he is."

"I'm going to fucking skin him alive. Get me my horse." Macsen's command sliced through the air, the urgency in his voice a tempest of emotions barely contained.

Macsen is aware that his palace is home to a spy. It's clear. When he is not present, assassins are dispatched to his vicinity. In other words, the information is quietly disseminated by a reliable source inside the palace. Someone who is familiar with his empire's blueprint. Not even his loyal knights can earn his trust. Still, he had no doubts about his commander. How dare that fucking thick-face stab him in the back!

He's such a moron for almost believing Bellona to be the spy. Since he knew nothing about her, he assumed she was concealing something. To force her to tell the truth or reveal her ulterior motives, he even distanced himself from her for a while. If she really does adore him, her conscience should have given in by now, but since there's really nothing to learn from her other than that she's an Aastha, that didn't happen.

"Your majesty, didn't you think they were together spying on you all along? That servant is an Aastha, and the commander is faithful to the Aastha family as well. I'm sure they plotted this out," the servant said. "Your majesty, they might have plotted this together! Look, they even ran away!"

"I don't know; I don't want to think she's the spy. I must be cursed!" Macsen replied.

"Macsen?" Maximus entered the room, his eyes widening at the storm brewing within the emperor.

"We're going to the Aastha manor," Macsen declared, a fire burning in his eyes.

"What? You can't initiate another war again between the two families! I know you are the fucking emperor of this fucking empire and you can fucking do whatever you want, but that doesn't mean you have to! Stop this bullshit," Maximus said, a desperate attempt to tether reason to the tempest.

"I'm not up for another war, and I won't go against her family either. I'm just going to take back what's mine. I want to make things clear as well." Macsen's voice, though resolute, held a trace of vulnerability.

"In that state? If you're going to take her back, then you have to take lessons! You cannot just barge into the Aastha manor looking like you're up for a war. She'll be mad!" Maximus, the voice of reason, implored.

"Fuck, damn it!" Macsen's frustration erupted, his fists clenching as he grappled with the chaos inside him.

"What's your decision now?" Maximus asked, the gravity of the situation hanging in the air.

"We're going to Aastha manor," Macsen's resolve, a force to be reckoned with, set the course for a journey into the heart of turmoil.

As they ventured into the night, the empire itself seemed to hold its breath, anticipating the tumultuous events that would unfold in the pursuit of love and retribution.

Macsen is now truly unstoppable, which irritates Maximus. Fuck love. Love is something that Maximus despises the idea of. He believes that it simply makes people crazy. Love is like a poisonous thornflower blooming in the parched wasteland of reality; its beauty is a cruel mirage that leads helpless souls to perish. Triggered by a desire for purpose in the parched stretches of life, people follow its seductive aroma. But within, all that's left is the hollow rattle of broken dreams and searing sand.

This so-called "love," this golden cage of assurances, is actually a poison that is voluntarily ingested, a delightful dementia that imprisons the soul and rots the mind. A cosmic puppeteer dangling puppets on strings of desire, there seems to be a whisper of destiny. But to the hardened eye, it's just a siren's song—a tune of lies that leads people's hearts onto rocky shores. Love is the greatest liar; it envelops its victims in a silken delusion, promising ecstasy, only to present a feast of thorns posing as roses.

They cling to the mirage, looking down into the abyss, blinded by this exquisite torture and desperate for warmth. The whisper of "forever" echoes the rising castles from the sand, a hopeless attempt to quell the roar of loneliness. Yet the tide is poised to sweep away these flimsy delusions, leaving hearts exposed and trembling in the harsh reality of dawn. The tide is a cold, uncaring force.

"Fuck!" Maximus is really frustrated watching his brother hop on his horse to chase after his woman. I guess he can't do anything about it.

Then, let him fucking enjoy the results of his pursuit of love. Allow him to celebrate this wonderful enchantment that this toxin enjoyed until it overwhelmed him. May love's ashes sow the seeds of independence, and may its sting etch the bitter reality of loneliness into his heart. May he perceive love for what it really is—a lovely deception, a harsh dance with emptiness in the vast, merciless void of reality—when the desert sun finally melts the illusion.

In the midst of this tempest of emotions, Macsen, fueled by a volatile mix of rage and despair, mounted his horse with the determination of a man possessed. The dust stirred beneath the hooves as they galloped toward the Aastha manor, where shadows of betrayal and longing intertwined.

The servant, a mere spectator to the tempest unleashed, cast a worried glance toward Emperor Maximus, the voice of reason in this hurricane of emotions. Maximus, wearied by the relentless storms of Macsen's passions, could only watch as his brother careened towards the edge of reason.

"Macsen, you're hurling headlong into a storm you can't control," Maximus warned, the words carrying the weight of both concern and frustration.

But Macsen's mind was a tempest of its own, swirling with thoughts of vengeance and reclamation. "I won't let him take her away," he declared, the fire in his eyes matching the blaze of the setting sun.

Maximus, grappling with the futile attempt to rein in his friend, could only utter a resigned plea. "Think about the consequences, Macsen. You can't undo the chaos you're about to unleash."

In the dim light, Macsen's resolve wavered, a flicker of doubt in his eyes. Maximus seized the opportunity to interject reason into the maelstrom of emotions. "If you're set on this path, Macsen, at least let me help you strategize. We can't charge in like a storm; we need a plan."

Macsen, torn between the desire for retribution and the need for a measured approach, finally relented. "Fine, Maximus. We'll strategize. But we're still going to Magnus, and I'll be damned if I let anyone keep her from me."

"What are you going to do at Magnus' place?"

Macsen growled. "I'm going to ask for fucking advice."

As night fell and the city lights flickered to life, they proceeded to Magnus Empire, shadows cloaking their intentions. In the labyrinth of emotions and ambitions, the lines between love and war blurred, and the fate of Macsen's turbulent heart hung in the balance.