Entangled With My Alpha Triplets

Thirty seven

~Asher~

Lesson one of my revenge modules: done and dusted. 

I wiped the blood from my hands with a pristine white handkerchief, watching the crimson stain spread across the fabric with a detached calm. Tyler's groans were nothing compared to what I planned to show the others. He was a frail, bleeding alpha prince but so bold enough to fuck my wife when I gave him the chance.

"Clean this up," I barked to the guards as I strode toward the door, my boots echoing against the floor. "I don't want a single drop of his filth staining my house." 

The guards nodded, their movements swift as they dragged the chair and its broken occupant out of sight. Tyler wasn't dead—not yet. But the next steps of this little game would decide whether he wished he were. 

"Lock him up and make sure Hazel doesn't know where he is." I commanded.

To her, he was dead and I wanted it to stay that way. She was free to mourn or feel guilty for months but I could care less about all that.

Soon, she would find out why I married her and by that time, she would be wasted in love with me.

As I looked around my play room with blood, I smirked over my satisfaction.

It took a couple of years to prove to my father that I was no longer the sick freak he used to know and when I finally got my crown as the heir, I went back to the old me.

No, I wasn't proud of it but it was so hard to let go of power.

I wanted the pack and the kingdom at large to remember in history. And as for my wife, she would be too frightened to do anything stupid unless she wanted her loved ones hurt.

I knew the address of her foster and biological parents but she didn't know that either.

"I could crush you in a second, little thorn." I clenched the glass in my hand till it shattered.

"Don't make me hurt you." I couldn't even if I wanted to.

She was so fragile yet so deadly. If she cooperated with me, we could be a power couple but she was too love sick with the playboy Tyler to realise that.

My favourite thing about her was her naivety. Did she really think that a man who bullied her at the beginning would suddenly love her in a matter of weeks?

I just wanted to own her. To keep her all to myself till other men knew she was the bait for a kill.

I smirked at the shattered glass in my hand, blood dripping from the shallow cuts on my palm. I have gone through the worst emotional and physical pain to be hurt by a deep cut.

"Master, you're bleeding." One of the slaves whom the guards had assigned to clean, noticed it.

I glanced at her, my eyes drifted down from her face to her curvy body. I could fuck her to have more revenge on Hazel.

"And what can you do about it? Are you a vampire that would suck it off or perhaps, a healer?" I questioned.

The slave's gaze dropped immediately, her hands shaking as she clutched the cleaning rag. "N-No, Master. I just thought—" 

"You thought wrong," I cut her off, my voice cold. "Focus on cleaning." 

She nodded quickly, scurrying away like a frightened puppy. I wiped the blood off my palm, feeling the sting, but then I couldn't take my eyes off her body as she arched.

I already had two girls waiting for me with Hazel, what was the harm in having another one?

"Come here," I ordered her.