MY CEO IS A WEREWOLF

Within the stifling atmosphere of the courtroom, she sat delicately amidst the ruthless Alphas and eminent councilmen. With her eyes swollen and a deep crimson hue from incessant sobbing, one could easily mistake her for an alpha due to her unique eye color.

The cell door emitted a piercing creak as it swung open, revealing the remnants of a ruthlessly battered figure. Dragged unceremoniously into the court, the wretched soul stood exposed, his nakedness accentuating his vulnerability. Chains of heavy magnitude bound his wrists and ankles. Suddenly, a shrill voice shattered the air...

"Father! Father!" she cried out desperately, her voice echoing with an intense plea, Please, I beg all of you, spare my father. He's innocent, and bears no fault in this matter. I beg you," the young girl implored, her voice interwoven with tears.

Her father was slated for execution, and she stood powerless to intervene.

"Sit down, Erica," she was forcibly restrained by her Uncle Mextas.From her vantage point, Erica could discern her father's predicament. His face marred by blood and bruised skin. His features had been subjected to a cruel form of torture, rendering him almost unrecognizable. Yet, he managed to muster a frail smile.

"I love you," he mouthed, his gaze directed toward his tender omega.

An anticipatory hush fell over the councilmen as footsteps, accompanied by the echo of a walking staff, resonated. Adorned in resplendent attire, his feet encased in fine leather shoes, the demon alpha strode in, assuming his rightful place upon the throne.

"Ahem, he cleared his throat, languidly fixing his dark red eyes upon the assembled crowd, Shall we commence?" His query hung in the air not expecting a reply, his languorous gaze penetrating the very core of his audience as he began flipping the pages of a huge book.

"Our purpose convenes us tonight, he continued, his tone unyielding. "As werewolves, coexisting with humans is imperative for our survival. Abiding by our obligations is paramount to our preservation. Although serious, adherence to our laws is non-negotiable, as any deviation threatens not only the offenders but us as well. He paused, allowing his gaze to sweep the courtroom. This evening, he resumed, an adjournment from the previous week calls us to bear witness and determine the fate of one among us. My own son, Hercule Jones."

From her position, it was barely believable that her grandfather could inflict such harsh punishment upon his own son. Azazel was one of the preeminent Rite Masters, a top-ranking Alpha who played a pivotal role in rendering judgments and retribution. Grandfather Azazel was the epitome of authority.

"My son, he intoned with a tincture of sorrow, possessing complete knowledge of our statutes, committed a grievous act. He laid waste to a woman and her innocent child, driven by self-serving motives. The grimness of this offense transcends the realm of human existence, showcasing that were lawless. We must now confront the consequences of his barbarism. Does anyone wish to speak or plead his cause?"

"Please, spare my father! I beg you; there's no way he could have done that" Erica's entreaty echoed amidst the chamber. Mextas, her uncle, struggled to contain her, but her plea persisted.

Azazel's gaze, cold and unyielding, remained fixed on Erica, a challenge implicit in his stare. Hercule raised his weakened head, emitting a low growl, recapturing Azazel's attention. Redirecting his focus.

Azazel continued, "Such conduct is reprehensible within our werewolf community, let alone the human world. We derive grim satisfaction from his capture. He must now confront the full measure of his transgression. Is there anyone who offers a defense, a plea for leniency?" He asked again

"Kindly spare my father! I beg you; please, we'll go as far away possible. You'll never see or hear from us again" Erica's imploration persisted, her struggle against Mextas evident. Azazel remained unmoved, and her pleas went unacknowledged. Hercule, however, did not fear the impending demise; his anxiety centered on the future of his vulnerable omega, Erica, left in the care of his heartless Father.

A pregnant pause ensued, and Azazel resumed, "Very well then, he spoke after the few seconds silence, Mr. Hercule Jones, by virtue of my authority as Alpha, Rite Master, and Clan Head, I hereby sentence you to thirty lashes with wolfsbane-infused whips. Gilchrist!" he summoned the executor.

Erica's eyes widened as she witnessed the enormity of the sentence. Gilchrist, Azazel's executioner, emerged his face concealed behind a mask. Rumors circulated that in attornment for his crimes Gilchrist had his face branded with hot blade and his tongue cut out. Since then, he's had absence of empathy, rendering him dangerous to human sentiment.The chains binding Hercule were released, and he was led to the rack. Gilchrist poised himself with the whip, a vial of spray held in readiness.

Erica observed as the first lash descended, an agonizing grimace enveloped Hercule's features. Subsequent strikes ensued, met with Hercule's determination to stifle his screams. With every stroke, his resolve wavered, but his unbroken spirit persisted. The torment inflicted upon him unfolded scars of agony.

Erica's sobs escalated as her father endured humiliation on public display. The agony bore witness to her own helplessness, a proof of her grandfather's disdain.

As she sought to leap the barricade and rush to her father's side, Mextas curbed her efforts, suppressing her cries of despair. Amidst Hercule's unyielding determination, his eyes met Erica's, their gaze displayed a cloud of unwavering love. He mouthed his final declaration of love before succumbing to the relentless torture. A final glimpse of his omega, Hercule's breath ebbed, his consciousness fading into the abyss slowly.

Chaos and desolation engulfed Erica, her vision clouded by tears. Her attempt to rush to her father was met with Mextas' violent restraint, a forceful blow on her face by Mextas silenced her outcry.

The room resonated with the chilling impact of the whip, the harrowing finale of Hercule's life etched slowly into a cloud. Drenched in agony, Erica's heart shattered as her father's life force waned. The despair of her own helpless manifested in her fragile efforts.

The crushing blow struck her face, rendered her unconsciousness as blood mingled with the residue of her tears. As Gilchrist's whip left its deep scars, Azazel's grim command signaled the termination of the torment..

"That is enough! Remove him immediately!" he directed the prison ward. "I mean, away!" he emphasized.Guards descended, bearing the lifeless form away from the rack.

A contemplative pause embraced the chamber. Azazel hesitated briefly, seemingly pondering the unfolding events.

"We reside among humans, cause we're dependent on their livestock and you know... sometimes they themselves are handy. So! it's our obligation to comply with their laws as any offender would be ruthlessly punished. Any questions?" Silence pervaded the room. His approval came in a nod. "You're dismissed," he concluded, rising from his imposing throne.. .

.

.

.

"Your time with her is limited to a mere twelve minutes," Mextas's voice reverberated, harshly thrusting her inside and slamming the door shut.

Her face bore traces of dried tears and mucus, remnants of the earlier traumatic episode.Within Erica's vision lay a poorly ventilated chamber, dimly lit. The nostril-teasing aroma of dish soap and antiseptic lingered. Her eyes, struggling at first, eventually acclimated to the gloom. A solitary bed occupied the space, and a foot protruded from its confines. A glimmer of recognition ignited within her, propelling her toward the bed where another bout of sobs overtook her.

Following her father's arrest and subsequent prosecution, her mother lapsed into a profound coma. The extensive array of companies and properties once owned by her parents had been snatched from her grasp by her grandfather and the councilmen. Her uncle Mextas, being persuaded begrudgingly, was mandated to provide for her, displaying a marked indifference.

A few weeks prior, she begged her grandfather for the chance to visit her dying mother. Today, that entreaty bore fruit.

In an unkempt room within a basement, her mother languished.

[Don't give me that look. It's for your own good. Safeguarding our identity is paramount,] Uncle Mextas intoned upon catching the solem look in her eyes.

Erica tenderly patted her mother's arm, lowering her head to listen to the faint thumps of her heartbeat. Never had she felt so powerless throughout her brief existence on earth. She bore witness to her Father's humiliation and execution, her hands tied. Now, she found herself powerless once more, observing her mother's gradual descent into oblivion, bereft of care. Her own family subjected her to cruelty, relegating her to torture in her own father's household. Fresh teardrops traced her cheeks, an unspoken longing for a means to salvge the suffering. Clenched fists accentuated the helplessness pulsating within her.

"Ouch," she whimpered as an unfamiliar sensation pricked her palm. Blood began its descent, tracing a crimson path. A delicate gasp escaped her lips. What was this? Her bewildered gaze turned toward her fingernails, which had grown longer and sharper. Applying pressure, they punctured her skin. Could this herald the awakening of her wolf? A surge coursed through her, an energtic sensation she had never before felt.

The sound of a crank filled the air as the doors swung open.

"Hey, you!" Uncle Mextas called out, Get out! I think you've spent enough time with her!" His voice was charged with impatience.

"Just a minute," she responded, struggling to retract her claws to their original length.

"Hey! Don't make me come in there!" Uncle Mextas's irritation was palpable as he impatiently yelled.

"Okay, I'm coming, she stammered, attempting to chew her claws shorter, only to inadvertently bruise her lips, causing blood to spill. Shit!" she cursed, trembling.

"Get the hell out!" A forceful hand tugged at her clothes, sending her sprawling through the doorway and crashing outside the room. You foolish child!, your'e nothing but a burden to me. Mextas's voice dripped with anger. That's the last time you'll see her! Now go, attend to your chores!"

With hurried haste, Erica staggered to her feet, colliding with what she thought was a wall, but turned out to be a tall, imposing figure.

"Ouch! she massaged her temple. Oh, it's Azazel. I'm so sorry, grandfather, I didn't see you there," she pleaded.

"You!, Azazel's voice thundered. You must never address me so familiarly. Address me as 'chief' or 'sire,' do you understand?" His forehead was etched with stern lines.

"Yes, sire, I understand," she quivered, head bowed low.

"Now, be on your way!" His command spurred her into action, and she hurriedly ascended the stairs. In the dimness of the basement, Erica's eyes quickly adapted. However, she froze as her ears caught the faint murmur of voices. Listening intently, she was astonished to discern a conversation between Azazel and Uncle Mextas.

"How is she faring?" Azazel inquired nudging a little towards the room.

"It's difficult to ascertain. Some days show signs of recovery, while others suggest deterioration," Uncle Mextas replied.

"Do you think it might be best to end it? It could simplify matters for us all," Azazel mused.

"That would be a treacherous move, possibly arousing suspicion among the councilmen. Uncle Mextas cautioned. A momentary pause ensued. So, what course of action would you propose?" Mextas inquired of his father.

Azazel had a contemporary pause "Seal the ventilation, darken the windows. Ensure she receives no further treatment, and forbid anyone from visiting her," Azazel decreed.

Erica's breath caught in her throat, her eyes brimming with tears.

"And if she were to pass away?" Mextas inquired.

"We could attribute it to natural causes—slipping from a coma to death—or suggest an adverse reaction to treatment, blaming the doctor if need be. I'll manage the details. Let's focus on the matter of their properties and companies in City Z. Bitch thinks she dominated the business world huh. A sly smile played on his lips... I'll take over their—"

Azazel's words were interrupted as Mextas detected a heartbeat."Did you hear that?" Mextas growled, his attention snapping towards the sound. Without hesitation, he moved to pursue the source.

Azazel swiftly joined him. "It's their little girl. I wonder how much she overheard. Don't let her escape!" Azazel's gaze locked onto Erica's direction. As their voices faded, Erica's heart raced. She absorbed their sinister conversation, her fear propelling her up the stairs and out of the basement, without a second glance.

~~~~~~~

With a forceful kick, a door swung open and a young girl darted out, her feet propelling her as swiftly as they could. The sunlight was a welcome relief as she emerged from the shadows. Yet, the sound of footsteps pursuing her played in her mind, reminding her of the danger she was in.

The basement lay on the outskirts of town, enclosed by a wall of dense, fragrant bushes. Patches of sunlight filtered through the towering trees.Through the thicket of bushes, Erica raced, a torrent of thoughts racing through her mind. Temptation to surrender briefly flitted, but the consequences were dire; trial, a verdict, and ultimate execution.

Closer the footsteps drew, urging her to push harder, her destination uncertain. A huge tree lay fallen across a corner, leaning against a more towering tree. Summoning every ounce of strength, she leaped, her escape cut short as a solid force slammed into her, sending her crashing into a branch. Landing with a resounding thud, Erica winced in pain.

"Ow my back!" she whimpered, fingers tenderly massaging her aching back. Gradually sitting up, her gaze locked onto an older girl before her.She crouched, vigilant eyes scanning for pursuers. Resting flat, Erica remained cautious, her focus solely on the scary looking girl before her. Minutes lingered in silence before the older girl spoke.

"Phew, we've finally managed to evade them," she breathed, turning her attention to Erica. Lowering herself to a crouch, she offered a warm smile. Hey there, I'm Stacy County. Nice to meet you." Erica's skepticism lingered.

Hardened by previous encounters, she wouldn't be swayed easily by a friendly demeanor. She wouldn't be overpowered by someone she deemed vulnerable."

"Not one step closer," she commanded, brandishing a makeshift stick defensively. Stay where you are. I won't hesitate to use this" she warned, her voice quivering as she noticed the stranger's elongated claws and dark yellow eyes.

Stacy gazed down, her heart ached nothing but pity for Erica. She had clearly endured much. Her heartbeat echoed loudly, her breath unsteady.

"I'm not here to harm you. I'm here to help" Stacy reassured patiently.

"Sure, I believe you," Erica's tone dripped with sarcasm. Turning her attention away, Stacy sensed an intense energy directed their way.

"We're running out of time. Staying here means certain death," she asserted, eyebrows furrowed in concern as she met Erica's gaze.

"Whatever, I don't need..." Before Erica could reply, Stacy swiftly jabbed a needle into her neck, injecting its contents. The action occurred in the blink of an eye, barely registering for Erica.

"What the hell wa...?" Her words trailed off as her strength waned. Stacy scooped her up and carefully placed her on her shoulder before leaping into the sky...