Marry to Alpha or Vampire?

Alpha Osiston and his wolf pack left the Pack House and returned to their territory. Osiston hoped that Cyril would execute Hazel properly; otherwise, he had no intention of helping Cyril kill the witch. After all, his mother had met a tragic end at the hands of vampires, and he harbored a deep hatred for them.

Putnam learned everything from Sheila. He never expected Hazel to be a Hybrid! Suspicion arose in him regarding the relationship between Hazel and Hawthorne; he speculated that there must be some connection between them. He had to investigate this thoroughly. Faced with the division in the werewolf alliance, Putnam felt pleased; this would weaken Cyril’s power, and the chance for his Pack to grow stronger would naturally increase.

Putnam arrived at Alpha Osiston’s territory and extended an alliance invitation.

“I heard that The Iron Star Pack has a Hybrid among them, which is unforgivable. I propose we form a new alliance and expel this Alpha who betrays werewolves from our world,” Putnam smiled as he offered his hand to Osiston, thinking it was a good opportunity.

“Are you suggesting we kill Cyril?” Although Osiston was unhappy with Cyril’s actions, he still feared Cyril; after all, both Cyril and his army were formidable.

“Don’t you want to? Do you want to endure under his rule forever? And he has even taken in someone who tarnishes the werewolf bloodline. Think about your mother; can you still tolerate this?” Putnam provocatively spoke.

Approaching Osiston’s seat, Putnam pointed to the pictures hanging above, showing his parents. The woman in the photo was beautiful and strong, once an excellent Luna.

Following Putnam’s direction, Osiston looked at his mother, instantly recalling the scene of her tragic death. The burning flames of anger surged within him, and the deep-seated hatred was unearthed. He wanted all vampires buried in hell.

“No! All vampires must die!”

“I accept your alliance invitation, but what’s your plan?” Osiston looked down at Putnam, hoping he wasn’t just someone good with words.

“Don’t worry; I have a powerful army.”

“The day before the witch and Cyril go to war, we can preemptively strike, making them taste bitterness first.”

Putnam concealed his cooperation with the vampires. In his view, Osiston’s army was just a meager gift he prepared for the king. His real goal was to become the Alpha of the largest Pack.

As the morning sun slowly rose, the forest remained shrouded in darkness. Occasionally, one or two birds chirped.

After concluding the discussion with Eric and Trnald, Cyril went to Hazel’s room. He looked at Hazel still in a deep slumber, yet to awaken.

He caressed Hazel’s hair, eyes filled with affection. He even wished it were himself unconscious instead of Hazel. His large hand followed Hazel’s hair to her delicate face, gazing at her long eyelashes. Cyril leaned down, kissing her enchanting lips.

“I missed you. Hazel, I need you to wake up,” Cyril whispered to himself. Despite always being powerful, he never thought he would feel so helpless due to worrying about someone. His heart was in immense turmoil due to Hazel’s unconsciousness.

Hazel felt a kiss on her lips, but she couldn’t see the man clearly. She awoke from her deep sleep, finding herself lying on a grassy lawn.

“Theo? What are you doing?” Hazel saw young Theo holding a little rabbit, running toward her.

“Hey, Hazel, I caught a bunny. Wanna play with it?” Theo, covered in dirt, smiled as he offered the rabbit to her. Hazel gladly took the bunny, immersing herself in playtime with Theo.

Suddenly, a stranger approached them. The man hypnotized Theo, making him fall into a deep sleep. He crouched down, smiling at Hazel.

Hazel stared into the blood-red eyes, a strangely familiar feeling washing over her.

“Let’s go, Hazel. It’s time to go home.”

The stranger took Hazel’s hand, and as she listened to him, it felt like she was under some kind of spell, quietly following the man away from Theo.

The stranger led her to a castle with Gothic spires, a circular tower, narrow stained-glass windows, and arched doorways. Columns and various shapes supported the arches, creating a solid and heavy atmosphere. The dimly lit interior, with its contrast of small windows and vast space, gave an impression of mystery and seclusion.

In the dim hall, there stood a pure white coffin adorned with diamonds and a series of incorruptible decorations. The stranger pointed to the coffin.

“My daughter, this is your little bed. Do you like it?”

Daughter? Hazel looked at the man in confusion, fear filling her eyes. The man didn’t get angry at her silence; instead, he affectionately patted her head and snapped his fingers at the door.

“Hawthorne, come in.”

A boy in a black suit walked in, his hair also jet black. The striking feature was his vibrant eyes; the left one was green, and the right one was golden. His eyes gave him an aura of liveliness. The boy approached Hazel, took her hand, and flashed a faint smile.

“Hawthorne, Hazel is your fiancée. In this castle, you will grow up together with her.” The stranger instructed Hawthorne.

“Yes, my master.” Hawthorne blinked his heterochromatic eyes, a hint of surprise in them. He looked at Hazel, finding the little girl adorable.

“I’ll take you to the study, and I’ll read you stories, my fiancée.” Hawthorne’s icy hand held Hazel’s. Their hand temperatures were vastly different, making Hazel feel a bit uncomfortable, but her brain was surprisingly obedient.

Faced with everything unfamiliar, little Hazel seemed very compliant. She followed Hawthorne to the study, which resembled the one she had seen when she passed out in the bathroom, even darker.

“Hazel, come here. I’ll tell you a story.” Hawthorne gently embraced Hazel, speaking about bat stories. Little Hazel was captivated, and Hawthorne’s voice was like the gentle tide, gradually eroding her will.

Life in the castle became monotonous for Hazel; she could hardly see any sunlight, and her skin grew paler. Hawthorne woke Hazel up every day from the white coffin, and the two children were almost inseparable.

“Are you happy?” Hawthorne asked Hazel softly.

“Happy?” Hazel’s mind flashed images of Theo lying on the grass, and she almost forgot who that was.

“What is happiness?”

“Is it being happy with you?”

“Happy, but I forgot I was happy with someone else, too.”

“Forget him, forget everything before.” Hawthorne’s heterochromatic eyes sparkled as he whispered in Hazel’s ear. Hazel nodded, awkwardly hugging her doll, walking back into the white coffin.