Leo's POV
"Be a loving, obedient boy. Do what your father asks you to do." Those were my mother's parting words to me, her golden rule for surviving the court's jealousy and menace. They were her curse, the source of her miserable fate as the mistress of a Lycan King. And she passed that curse onto me.
I heard the heavy doors creak open, footsteps echoing closer. I recognized the familiar cadence of my father's stride. He’s here, I thought. And he's come to end my life.
Emerging from the shadows, my father’s imposing figure loomed, flanked by my sister Leah and her ex-husband, Lucas Farrow. Despite everything, Lucas looked undeniably captivating in his army suit.
I couldn’t decipher the expression on my father’s face. Emotions and feelings had always been a mystery to me; I never grasped the connection between what people showed and what they felt. The Lycan King, my father, had never revealed his true feelings to anyone, except me. But I was the defective one, incapable of responding in the way he wanted. And for that, I was to be punished.
"Give us some privacy," my father commanded in his cool, detached tone.
"Father, he's very dangerous," Leah cautioned.
"He's chained to the wall like a dog, Leah," my father replied. "He won't hurt anyone."
"Yes, Father," Leah acquiesced and turned away. Lucas gave me a dark look before following her.
I chuckled, and Lucas stopped, glaring at me. When people stared, it usually meant I had angered them.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Lucas spat.
"I'm ready whenever you are, Farrow," I jeered. "My sister doesn't know how to please you. Come and have a go with me. I'll make you the happiest man on earth."
Lucas’s fists clenched, and for a moment, I thought he’d strike me.
"Leave us," my father ordered.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lucas said through gritted teeth and walked away.
The dungeon emptied, leaving just my father and me: an exclusive father-son moment.
"You've let me down, Leo," my father said, seating himself in front of me. He waved his fingers, beckoning me closer. I struggled and crawled toward him, attempting to kiss his feet, but he kicked me away.
"You're such a disgrace and abomination. I should have killed you long ago," he snarled.
"Father, it’s all my fault. Please punish me," I whispered, my voice trembling with desperation.
My father lowered his head, his eyes boring into mine. "What did you tell Leah?" he demanded.
"I've told her everything," I mumbled. "Our family history. Grandfather's drinking problem and suicide. Your involvement in the enhancement project. The two prototypes. Everything."
My father grabbed my hair, yanking me to my feet. "Why would you do something like that?!" he snarled.
"So you would look at me again," I whispered.
"What did you just say?!" he roared.
"Father, I've done everything to please you. I did nothing but be obedient. But you didn't even look at me," I said, my voice laced with desperation. "You sent me away..."
"I sent you away because you were fucking everything that moved in front of you!" he hissed, his voice dripping with venom. "You're a worthless, twisted low-bred. A shameless fucking slut."
"Father, after everything I've done for you, how could you say something so cruel?"
He slapped me hard across the cheek, and I toppled to the ground like a rag doll, blood spilling from my mouth. "Stop playing hurt with me. You're a retarded numb bastard who can't feel anything!" he shouted.
"Is this what you want?" he demanded, hauling me back up and shaking me violently.
"Yes, father. Slap me harder. I deserve it," I murmured, blood mingling with my words.
He kicked me ruthlessly, finally stepping on my chest. "You deserve nothing!" he spat, his eyes bloodshot and wild.
As I said, my father never revealed his anger to anyone else but me. This twisted form of intimacy made my knees buckle. Only in moments of my transgressions did I garner his attention. Painful and sad as it was, it was something I'd die for.
"Father, do you see mother in me?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "Is that why you don't even want to look at me?"
My father froze, his fury replaced by a cold silence. He stood there, a statue in the dim light.
I pressed on, "You strangled her to death. I saw it from the closet. When she fell to the floor, her eyes were wide open, staring at me. I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming. Father, all these years, I've kept this secret. But now that you're about to kill me, please grant me an answer. Why did you kill my mother?"
"You're insane," he said, his voice a flat monotone. "The ideas in your head are eating you alive. I'll have some doctors take care of it."
Despite everything I'd done, my father chose to cure me rather than end my life. He just wouldn't give up on me, and I had to keep this cursed existence going. There was truly no limit to his resolve.
"That's not the answer I want, father," I said, each word a struggle. "Why did you kill my mother?"
He grabbed me and slammed me against the wall with Lycan force, breaking my ribs. "You will never know why I killed that bitch," he whispered harshly. "And you'll live with it for the rest of your fucking miserable life."
I saw a light in his eyes, but couldn't discern if it was anger or hatred. Then he threw me to the floor and walked away.
"Father, are you going to let them cut off my lobes?" I called out, my voice trembling.
He kept walking.
"I won't be able to recognize you again," I continued, my voice faltering.
He didn't stop.
"I had it pre-programmed," I said desperately. "Leah's baitar, Lester Swanson. He's going to kill Darren before killing himself. Your precious daughter will not be protected."
My father halted and turned to look at me, his eyes narrowing. "Why do you tell me this? Are you asking for my forgiveness?"
"No, father," I coughed, blood splattering from my mouth. "I just want to spend some more time with you... I love you, father."
When I looked up, he was already gone.