Captive: Sold To The Fox-eyed Alpha Who I Hate Chapter 28: A Doomed Dennis

"Ren!" Dennis cried out, his voice cracking against the rhythm of the rain. "I know what this looks like, but I’m just looking out for you. I thought I had died but I survived, Ren." He had that deep, relieved expression on his face, as if reminiscing about the unfortunate events of the past. "I heard you had survived too, so I searched for you, but never did. I’ve been hiding all this ti, moving from shadow to shadow, just waiting for the chance to strike back at this monster for what he did to our family!"

He gestured wildly at Cilian, who only arched a brow in silent amusent.

"I’ve been working with the Mordecais only to get close to the Vane estate," Dennis continued, his face contorting into a mask of righteous grief. "Everything I’ve done, I’ve done to avenge your father. To avenge the Pierce na!"

Ren watched him. He watched the way the rain matted Dennis’s hair, the way his voice broke at just the right frequency to sound like a man who had spent years in mourning. If Ren were the sa boy who had played in the Pierce gardens two years ago, he might have run to him.

He might have dropped the gun and wept.

But the collar around his neck was cold, and the man standing behind him was a constant, radiating heat of a different kind of truth.

"Our family?" Ren repeated as his voice broke. The words felt like broken glass in his mouth, cutting at the corners and making him bleed.

"Yes, Ren! Your father... he was like a brother to ," Dennis pressed on, his expression one of agonizing relief, his eyes searching Ren’s for a flicker of the old ’Oga Prince’ who was so easily swayed by kindness. "I never stopped looking for a way to avenge him, Ren. Not for a single day."

Cilian let out a low, lodic hum from where he stood. He didn’t interrupt; he simply watched with a dazed, fascinated delight, as if he were at the theater. He wanted to see if his ’lamb’ would fall for the siren song of a familiar face.

But of course, he knew Ren wasn’t that stupid.

Ren looked at Dennis—the man who was currently using the mory of a massacred family as a bargaining chip to save his own skin.

He felt a surge of physical nausea so violent it nearly made his knees buckle. This man who had handed Cilian the keys and here he was, speaking of vengeance. He watched the mouth that had whispered his family’s weaknesses to another, and watched from the shadows as the house burned to ash.

He carried the sa sin as Cilian. But even worse, he was a backstabber.

It was the most disgusting thing Ren had ever seen.

"Ren," Dennis called, thinking he was successfully swaying Ren’s mind. "Now that you know I’m alive. I can help you. You just have to co with and—"

BANG!

The shot cracked through the heavy air, silenced only slightly by the rain. Dennis’s sympathetic play ended in a high-pitched, guttural shriek as he collapsed back onto the ground, clutching his right thigh. Blood began to bloom through the grey fabric of his trousers, mixing with the rainwater in a dark, swirling eddy.

"You... You... How could you do—"

"Shut up," Ren hissed, his eyes dangerously dark with a child that made Dennis shiver.

Was this the sa Ren he knew? Impossible.

Dennis seed to have never heard the saying, With loss cos a hard heart.

The gun didn’t tremble in Ren’s arm. He pointed it at Dennis with a firm grip and a posture that was as stiff as a frozen branch.

He stepped to the edge of the marble stairs, looking down at the writhing man with eyes that were no longer human. Ren had beco a monster before he even realized it, and he planned to stay a monster until the day he finally put a bullet in Cilian’s heart, as well as everyone who contributed to his family’s downfall.

"Shut your lying mouth, Dennis," Ren whispered, his voice carrying a weight that made even the vampire soldiers behind Julian shift uncomfortably. "I know who opened the gates. I know who provided the blueprints. Do you think I’m as blind as you are greedy?"

Dennis froze, his face turning ghostly pale. The mask of the grieving advisor shattered, leaving behind nothing but the raw, naked terror of a caught rat.

He looked up at Ren, then flicked a panicked, accusing gaze toward Cilian.

Cilian rely chuckled, a soft, lodic sound that drifted over heavy rainy air. He reached out and rested his hand on Ren’s shoulder, his fingers digging in with a proprietary, grounding pressure.

"What do you think?" Cilian purred, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "My Ren is far smarter than you give him credit for. It’s quite insulting, really, that you thought such a cheap performance would work on him."

Julian, standing amidst the chaos, let out a sharp, frustrated hiss. "Enough of this lodrama! Cilian, you attacked us first."

"No, I didn’t." Cilian shrugged with a playful smirk. "What will you say about my shoulder? You’re definitely the ones who started it."

Julian flinched but stood his ground.

"There is no evidence that we are responsible for your assassination," he said, and sothing imdiately shifted in Cilian’s expression. It turned icy despite how he was still smiling.

"Evidence?" The word slid out of Cilian’s lips like poison, his curved crescent eyes seeming to see through Julian’s ploy. "Shall I provide evidence then? There are many ways, you know."

Julian knew he wasn’t bluffing. Cilian could conjure evidence from nowhere even though there was none, and that would complicate things, so he quickly dismissed the topic and said his piece.

"In any case, the negotiation is over."

"Oh, I agree," Cilian said, his gaze having this predatory sharpness. "The negotiation ended the mont I shot your goons anyway. Now, it’s just a matter of cleaning up the trash."

Cilian’s grip on Ren’s shoulder tightened, and for a mont, Ren felt the Alpha’s cold, frosty pheromones wrap around him like a protective shroud.

"Take him," Cilian commanded his guards, pointing at the sobbing Dennis. "They probably won’t need him anyway."

"Hey, you can’t—" Julian wanted to protest, but Cilian paid him no heed.

"My Ren finally has a toy to play with, its best to keep him in good condition," he pinched Ren’s cheek softly and Ren slapped his hand off, glaring at him. Cilian pouted, though he didn’t get upset. "Oh, and as for the ’guests’..." He looked at Julian and smiled—a wide, terrifying expression that promised nothing but silver and ash. "Get off my property. Before my darling Ren gets upset. I don’t mind giving you a matching hole with that bastard on the floor. Wanna try?"