Broken Bond: Claimed by My Ex-Husband's Alpha Billionaire Uncle-Chapter 51: The Sacred Meeting (1)

Damon sat before the seven councils of the Nocturnal Order, his posture relaxed yet exuding a quiet arrogance. He crossed one leg over the other, he didn’t seem nervous even though the tension was filling the room.

Some of the council members murmured among themselves, clearly unsettled. The Alpha was being utterly disrespectful, and they did not take kindly to it.

"Alpha Damon, you know why you’ve been summoned before us, don’t you?" One of the council members—Joseph Nash—looked at him with clear disdain.

"I do," Damon replied, his voice flat, uninterested with the conversation between them.

Joseph inhaled sharply before continuing. "It’s been nearly two weeks, and yet we’ve received no progress from you. The rogue werewolves’ attacks on both humans and other supernatural beings grow worse each night. Just yesterday, two more fell victim."

"Two victims!" Another council member—Barbara Ruell—slammed her hand on the table. She gritted her teeth, revealing her vampire fangs, though they did nothing to intimidate Damon.

"You wild dogs," she spat. "Your kind attacked one of my own just days ago."

Damon remained unbothered. "With all due respect, Your Highness, I wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger," he said smoothly. "Condemning an entire race because of a few bad people ... seems a bit racist, doesn’t it?"

Barbara hissed, clenching her fists before pointing an accusatory finger at Damon. "You! How dare you use human terminology in our sacred council?"

"But, Your Highness," Damon countered with a lazy smile, "isn’t Lady Imogen human as well? Or are you planning to insult all humans now?"

Imogen Noble, a descendant of supernatural hunters, cleared her throat, breaking the thick silence that followed.

"Alpha Damon, watch your tone. This council is not something to be taken lightly."

Damon tilted his head slightly, his faint smile lingering on his face. "My apologies, Your Highness."

But there was no remorse in his voice.

His tone grew more serious now as he continued. "My pack and I have been working tirelessly to track down every rogue werewolf roaming Northbridge City. But no matter how hard we try, they keep slipping away—so easily, in fact, that it feels ... unnatural."

Joseph’s gaze sharpened. "Unnatural how?"

Damon pushed himself up from his seat and began pacing, his hands tucked into his pockets. "Rogue werewolves are outcasts—wolves who either chose to live alone or were exiled from their packs for one reason or another."

He let out a harsh sigh. "Unlike in the past, rogues today aren’t just mindless, feral beasts. They’re simply wolves without a pack. That’s all."

He turned back to face the council. "But ..."

"... for some reason, I fear they’re changing. They’re starting to act like the rogues of the past—wild, uncontrollable, relentless. They attack anything they see as a threat. They charge forward without hesitation, without care for their own survival."

That was why catching them had been nearly impossible. Every rogue in Northbridge City escaped so effortlessly because they weren’t afraid. They ran straight through every obstacle, every barricade, as if death itself meant nothing to them.

Elmer Malcolm, an Alpha who had taken a seat on the council after losing his entire pack, finally spoke, "Are you saying these rogues are stronger than your pack?"

"No," Damon said without hesitation. "They’re not. But they are difficult to capture—because someone is helping them escape and hide."

Joseph leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Elaborate on your claim."

Damon leaned back slightly, his voice calm yet firm. "The rogue werewolves can run, but they’re not invisible. Even if we fail to catch them at night, their tracks should still be there at dawn."

He let the words settle before continuing, "But here’s the strange part—we find nothing. No footprints. No scent trails. And they’re not hiding in the usual places, either. Not near the forests, not in abandoned buildings."

"It’s as if someone—maybe even an entire group—is giving them shelter during the day."

Ivory Lane—the fae—rested her chin on her hand, her gaze thoughtful. "You do realize the weight of what you’re suggesting, don’t you? Anyone who deliberately turns their fellow supernatural beings into weapons without the Nocturnal’s consent would be committing an act of treason."

"I do, Your Highness," Damon replied without hesitation, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "That’s exactly why I’m asking for more time to investigate. This isn’t a problem that can be solved with brute force alone. It requires strategy."

A scoff broke through the air.

Vernon Vortez, the Lycan, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his smirk dripping with condescension. "Tch. Fucking dog. You wolves love to boast about your precious packs, yet you can’t even handle a few strays."

Damon chuckled, but his amusement quickly faded as his voice dropped into something colder. "Your Highness, you and I are both canines."

Vernon’s smirk faltered for just a second before his expression darkened.

"Oh? And what makes you think we are the same?" His voice dripped with disdain. "Most of your ancestors merely led packs, while my ancestors built a kingdom, while yours were nothing more than dogs fighting for scraps. In fact, it was my people who made werewolves like you our slaves."

Damon tilted his head, unfazed. "Is that so, My Lord?" His lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. "Then tell me, where is your great kingdom now?"

Silence.

A beat passed before Damon let out a quiet hum, as if he’d just remembered something amusing. "Oh ... that’s right! It’s gone. Long gone. And now, the lycans are outnumbered by the very slaves you once ruled over."

The tension in the room snapped like a drawn wire.

Joseph slammed his palm against the table. "Enough! How dare you keep insulting the council, Alpha Damon?"

Damon sighed, his disgust barely masked. He tilted his head slightly, regarding them with a look of mild impatience. "Your Highness, I wouldn’t need to be on the defensive if you all showed me a little respect." freewёbnoνel.com

He clicked his tongue. "After all the time, effort, and let’s not forget ’the money’ I’ve poured into this organization, you still have the audacity to question how I run my own territory?"

His smile sharpened, but his eyes remained cold.

Barbara’s voice cut through the tension like a whip. "Alpha Damon! You can’t just throw your money around and expect it to solve every problem!"