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~ Griffin ~

Griffin Hale sat alone in his room, the glow from the large screen of his computer illuminating his chiseled features and fiery red hair.

He was playing a game and gripped the game controller with intense focus, his fingers flying across the buttons as the sound of grunts and battle cries echoed in his room.

This wasn’t just an ordinary game but a personalized video game with cartoon versions of the four Cardinal Alphas as the main characters.

He had deliberately chosen Roman as his opponent, and at this moment, the green-haired, cartoonish version of Roman was taking a relentless beating from the hulking animated Griffin.

Though the animated Roman was getting obliterated, the victory felt hollow. It didn’t satiate the roiling emotions churning in Griffin’s chest. It was just not enough and no amount of digital destruction could quell it.

"Come on, Roman, is that all you’ve got?" he muttered under his breath, his voice filled with venom.

The animated Roman fell to the ground in defeat, but instead of reveling in his victory, Griffin tossed the controller across the room.

It landed on the floor with a thud as he leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his thick mane of red hair.

His chest heaved as he tried to calm his breathing, his frustration showing.

The fight earlier with Roman had left Griffin unsettled, and now the beast inside of him was clawing at his psyche, demanding release. One he could not give, not unless he wanted someone’s death on his hands. The bastard wasn’t all the time in his control.

Unlike the other cardinal alphas who carried the burdens of their own cursed gifts, Griffin’s was far more primal. The beast inside him wasn’t merely a part of him; it was a separate entity altogether, existing in a perpetual state of rage, demanding violence, and resisting any form of control.

Werewolves typically dealt with their wolf side as an extension of themselves. It was their animal counterpart that coexisted in harmony. But Griffin’s beast wasn’t like that.

It had its own mind, its own will, and it didn’t want peace. It wanted dominance, destruction, and freedom from the constraints Griffin imposed on it. And he, in turn, didn’t trust the beast. Their relationship was a warzone, a constant struggle for control, with neither side willing to concede.

"Shut up," Griffin growled, as if speaking to the beast inside him.

But it didn’t quiet. It never did. And all this was brought about by Roman.

Roman Draven’s audacity to match Griffin’s strength using the power of animals, was an insult the beast couldn’t tolerate.

His beast saw Roman as an insult, a rival who dared to claim equality despite lacking Griffin’s raw, unbridled power.

To the beast, Roman was a threat. A cheat.

Someone who dared to challenge its dominance.

And it raged against the very idea of him.

Griffin slammed his fist against the armrest of his chair, the wood cracking under the force.

This was the price not just him but the other Cardinal Alphas had to pay for the reckless decisions of their parents. They had sought to make the ultimate weapon out of their children. The strongest alphas, and they had succeeded. But at what cost?

In his case, they had condemned him to a life of constant vigilance, ensuring the beast never gained the upper hand.

In Asher’s case, they had produced a monster he wasn’t even sure they would be able to deal with in the years to come.

For his best friend Alaric, they had taken away his innocence, and given him what? Solitude?

And then for Roman.... no, he wasn’t going to think about that motherfucker. Not unless it was his fist ramming his ugly face. But then, poor Roman didn’t deserve to be a victim too. They were all pawns in the game for the throne.

And it scared him that they might destroy each other one day.

At once a knock sounded on Griffin’s door, drawing his attention.

"Go away!" He growled with a low, guttural voice. Griffin wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, not with the beast clawing at his control.

But then, a familiar voice came from the other side of the door "It’s me."

Griffin’s head snapped up. Relief replaced the tension for a brief moment as he recognized Alaric’s voice. Without hesitation, he yanked open the door, revealing his cardinal brother, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his forehead. Rain dripped from his shirt onto the floor.

"Thank the gods it’s you..." Griffin began, but then his brow furrowed, and a sardonic smirk crossed his face. "Why do you look like a drenched rat? Don’t tell me—" He glanced at the lightning crackling through the sky outside. "The storm was your doing, wasn’t it?"

Alaric nodded, brushing past him into the room. The faint scent of ozone clung to him, a signature of his power. Griffin shut the door behind him, his movements still tense and jagged.

But Alaric’s sharp gaze landed on the broken arm of a chair that had been reduced to splinters. His eyes flicked to Griffin, taking in his dilated pupils, shallow breaths, and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. His heartbeat pounded like a war drum in the room, loud, erratic, and telling.

"He wants out, doesn’t he?"Alaric asked grimly.

Griffin didn’t need to ask who "he" referred to. This was not the first time they were dealing with "him". So he nodded stiffly, his jaw clenched.

Alaric stepped forward, saying. "Quick, sit down before you lose control."

Griffin reluctantly obeyed, lowering himself onto the couch. His movements were stiff, as if any sudden motion might unleash the beast inside him. Alaric knelt before him, pressing his palm flat against Griffin’s broad chest.

"Alright," Alaric muttered, his eyes narrowing in concentration. "We’re going to stabilize your autonomic system as usual. Your sympathetic nervous system is in overdrive, spiking your adrenaline and cortisol. I need to get your parasympathetic system to counteract it."

"I have no idea what science gibberish you’re spilling! Just calm me before he’s out!"