Let me start by asking: any Dmitry's fan?

I shoved that thought away. It was lucidly impossible. My dad had told me what had happened that night. There had been at least a dozen of the Erebus's members who witnessed my mother's body being torn apart. Then there were those ladies who'd cleaned her body for burial, too. Hell, my dad was going to take me to her grave this weekend. The book must have been wrong, or there was another witch named Gaia Delvaux that wasn't my mother. 

Once I calmed myself down, I continued searching for any information about 'Mad Wolf' that I eventually stumbled upon one page that was filled with the Greek alphabet, albeit there was only one paragraph in it. There wasn't a single Latin word on this page. 

Mad Wolf is a rare, mythical disease that will drive the wolf crazy to the point where he/she will eat their mate and then die upon the realization of what they'd done. This disease was caused by the Sword of Damocles.

I picked up my phone again and searched for any information about the aforementioned sword online. Once I found a reliable source, I began to read. 

Legend has it that the famed Sword of Damocles dates back to an ancient moral parable popularized by Roman philosopher Cicero in 45 B.C. Dionysus II, a tyrannical king who once ruled over the Sicilian city of Syracuse during the fourth and fifth centuries B.C. was supremely unhappy. The king's dissatisfaction came to a head one day after a court flattered named Damocles showered him with compliments and remarked how blissful his life must be.

"Since this life delights you," an annoyed Dionysus replied, "do you wish to taste it yourself and make a trial of my good fortune?"

When Damocles agreed, Dionysus seated him on a golden couch and ordered a host of servants to wait on him. He was treated to succulent cuts of meat and lavished with scented perfumes and ointments. Damocles couldn't believe his luck, but just as he was starting to enjoy the life of a king, he noticed that Dionysus had also hung a razor-sharp sword from the ceiling. It was positioned over Damocles' head, suspended only by a single strand of horsehair. From then on, the courtier's fear for his life made it impossible for him to savor the opulence of the feast or enjoy the servants.

The phrase "Sword of Damocles" is now commonly used as a catchall term to describe a looming danger. Just like the saying "hanging by a thread" has become shorthand for a fraught or precarious situation. 

There was nothing about the sword possibly inflicting disease online, and after two hours of searching various resources, I decided to give it a rest. After securing the book, I hid it under my bed and went downstairs. I headed to the kitchen and found Dmitry in the kitchen, seemingly flipping what looked like pancakes on the pan, although knowing that this was Dmitry after all, I'd have to guess that this was probably one of the Russian delicacies. 

He looked up when he heard me pulling out the barstool and taking a seat. "Do you want some?" he offered. 

"I wouldn't say no to food," I replied with a small smile. I wished I could give him a more enthusiastic response, but my mood was still shitty since I couldn't find anything remotely useful to help Ryker. 

"Food always makes one feel good," said Dmitry as he placed a plate with two slices of pancakes and some berries and whipped cream on top. 

He grabbed a fork from the drawer next to his hip and handed it to me. I accepted it and muttered my thanks. "Does this mean that you're in a bad mood now?" I curiously asked. 

His eyebrow twitched, which was probably the only emotion and reaction I'd ever get from Dmitry, who was known to be the most emotionless person on all England. "I am always in a bad mood." He flipped the pancake onto another plate and then placed the pan back on the electric stove before pressing the off button. "I am not sure I am fit for the alpha job," he added out of the blue. 

I felt bad that Dmitry had no choice but to take this role when Ryker had left three months ago. I knew from Trish that Dmitry was supposed to be an Alpha in his previous pack in Russia, but he'd chosen to leave all of that in order to be Ryker's Beta. The real reason behind his shocking action was still unknown to this date. 

"You've done a good job. Don't be so harsh on yourself." 

And truth to be told, he indeed had done a wonderful job. A pack without its alpha would be very vulnerable, especially when it came to defending its own territory and people. When Ryker had left so abruptly, the Ethereal needed a new leader, someone that they could rely on and lead them. Dmitry had stepped up for that role. I watched him do everything that Ryker had done, including managing the company and also taking care of the pack. He'd never missed any pack meeting, and he'd always come to each one of them earlier than the others. Dmitry had filled Ryker's shoes on top of doing his old job as Beta, including training our young warriors. Just by taking a peek at Dmitry's schedule, I already felt that the fact that there were twenty-four hours in one day wasn't enough. 

After several seconds passed in nothing but silence, he muttered under his breath, "Thank you." 

I shrugged. "I'm just giving you the facts. The Ethereal is lucky to have you, Dmitry." 

"And I am lucky to have them," he responded almost immediately, which piqued my curiosity. 

"Can I ask you something?" 

Dmitry nodded. "Anything." 

Oh, boy, he didn't know what he'd just given me permission for. "Look, if you don't feel comfortable answering my question, you can just let me know, okay? Although I'm dying to know, I don't want to bring you any discomfort." 

His lips twitched into an almost smile. Almost. "Ask away." 

"Why did you leave your previous pack?" For a second I thought I saw something in his eyes, an emotion, but it was gone before I could even fully grasp what it was. Shit. I was probably making him feel uncomfortable now. "Dmitry, you don't have to answer that. I'm sorry I even asked. It's clearly none of my business." 

There were five minutes of utter silence and I was beginning to think that I'd angered him. 

Yet he casually pulled open the drawer, picked up a fork, and closed the drawer before moving around the kitchen island, with his plate and the fork in each hand, to claim the seat on my right. He placed the fork on the side of his plate and then leaned forward, only to ask, "Can you keep a secret?" 

This was unexpected. My heart started beating harder than usual, anticipating what he'd share with me and, at the same time, wondering how serious it was that he needed to ask for my discretion. My eyes met his rich brown eyes, and I knew that he truly trusted me. I could never betray his trust, so my answer was ultimately a "Yes." 

He held my gaze for a few seconds longer, which made me feel even more nervous, before he finally said, "What I left behind wasn't just a pack. It was my family." 

"Oh my gosh, I'm sorry." My hand instinctively touched his arm and ended up patting it in my lame attempt to comfort him.

Dmitry glanced down at my hand and I immediately pulled it away, but he placed his hand on top of mine and kept it there. My hand was left being sandwiched between his muscled arm and warm hand. 

"After my sister died, I blamed myself." Albeit his expression remained expressionless, there was an evident heaviness in his tone and the way he sharply took his breath. "She was supposed to be the ruler, something she had been dreaming about since we were kids. Something that I'd never wanted in the first place. I thought that I was fulfilling her dream by giving up the throne, but in the end," he shook his head and briefly closed his eyes before continuing, "it was the one that killed her." His hand holding my hand tightened. It should hurt me, but I didn't want to ruin this. This was the first time Dmitry Vashkov ever opened up and actually told his story. My hand could swell for all I cared. 

"And I was not even there when it happened. It was not there to protect her. She died alone, and it was my fault." Dmitry reopened his eyes and for the first time ever, in those chocolatey brown eyes — which always looked so calm and indomitable, I saw a raging storm. It was as if he'd been trying to cover it, shielding it away from the world to see, but now he let those walls tumbling down for me to see what he truly was, how he truly felt. 

I flipped my palm so that my hand was now holding his. "You didn't know that. You couldn't see the future, no one can. You just gave her what she always wanted. There's no crime in trying our best to make our loved ones happy." 

He shook his head adamantly. "I am still at fault. When she asked me to come home, I refused her request. I was feeling too comfortable being here." A frown started forming on his forehead, his eyebrows taut in conspicuous distress. "In here, as Ryker's Beta, I am not burdened with a nation to rule, proper etiquette, and most of all, responsibilities." 

"Wait. Hold on for a second." I put up my free hand. "Throne, nation, rules. Are you still talking about your pack?" I frowned in confusion. 

The lines on Dmitry's forehead slowly disappeared and one corner of his mouth actually tucked upward. My eyes widened in complete shock. "You smile. You can actually smile!" I gasped, blinking a few times, and still couldn't entirely be sure this wasn't a dream. 

His smile immediately morphed into a lopsided grin. "Of course I can. Contrary to what people chose to believe, I am perfectly able to have human emotions." He lifted his other hand and his knuckles lightly brushed my cheek. He leaned forward that our noses almost touched. I could feel his warm breath fanning my lips. I could smell berries, which clearly proved that he'd eaten several of them while making those Russian pancakes. I should pull back, but I was too entranced by the closeness and the way his hand holding mine. "And to answer your question, I am talking about my kingdom, Xyrra. I was once known as the Wolf Prince."

° ° ° ° ° ° °

Dear Readers, is anyone curious about Dmitry? Prepare to hear some more~~

P.S. gentle reminder: the chapter with "(d)" in front are drafts. Timeline might seem confusing, it'll be fixed soon.