False Expectations - Chapter 48: Chapter 48

Maximus' pov:
The skirmishes had arrived, and though I was still devastated by Adelina's rejection, I managed to throw myself into rigorous training during the preparation period. I had to admit, I was in the best shape of my life—physically sharper, mentally tougher, and more determined than ever. Leaving Chris in charge of the pack, I set off with Dimitri and a group of elite warriors to represent us.
The stakes were high, with numerous Alphas competing for the crown and the title of King of all werewolves. Each of them had their strengths, their own reasons to believe they were destined for the throne. I knew the competition would be fierce, but I was confident. Both Drako and I had trained relentlessly, and we had something the others lacked: purpose.
The skirmishes were divided into three grueling rounds.
The first round was intellectual, testing our knowledge of the kingdom—its history, politics, finances, and the intricacies of pack dynamics. Many faltered, unprepared for the depth and complexity of the questions. But not me. My grandfather had been a renowned scholar, penning the most significant books on werewolf history. He'd drilled me on our lineage, our legacy, and our responsibilities since I could walk. Passing this round was almost effortless.
The second round demanded skill—contests of agility, endurance, and strength. From footraces across treacherous terrain to precision-based challenges, I excelled in every event. My months of training paid off as I claimed victory after victory, leaving no doubt about my physical capabilities.
But the third and final round was the true test—the battles.
It was down to four contenders: Ivan, Alpha of the largest pack in Russia and one of my closest friends; Ha Ji Won a Chinese Alpha whose mastery of martial arts was second to none; Nicolas, the ruthless and cunning Alpha of the Winter Woods pack; and me.
The battles were organized in pairs. Ivan would face Nicolas, while I was matched against the Chinese Alpha. The winners of these matches would face off in the ultimate fight for the crown.
The rules dictated that we fight in our human forms. Shifting into wolf form was forbidden, as it would tilt the balance unfairly in favor of some contestants. While I would have preferred to fight as Drako—my wolf's strength was unparalleled—I respected the rules. I had trained my human body tirelessly for this moment, and I was ready.
My battle with the Chinese Alpha was nothing short of brutal. His speed and precision were unlike anything I had ever encountered. Every strike I launched was countered, every move I made anticipated. His martial arts skills were extraordinary, and I quickly found myself on the defensive.
Frustration began to creep in. Blow after blow landed, sapping my strength and resolve. Was this how it would end? Would I fall here, before I even had the chance to claim the throne?
Drako's voice growled in my mind, filled with impatience and determination.
"Let me take control. Let me show him what we're capable of."
I hesitated. This was my battle—our future. But as round after round ended in stalemates, I realized I had no choice. I relinquished control to Drako, and what happened next was nothing short of extraordinary.
I barely remember the details. Drako moved with a fluidity and ferocity that left even the spectators in awe. His strikes were faster, more precise, more calculated than anything I could have mustered on my own. The Chinese Alpha fought valiantly, but it was clear he had met his match.
Within forty minutes, Drako delivered the decisive blow, and the Chinese Alpha fell to the ground, defeated. The crowd roared its approval, but all I could think was this: I should have trusted Drako sooner. He was born for this—destined to be King.
Meanwhile, Nicolas had defeated Ivan in his match, and now it was down to the two of us.
The final battle.
We entered the circular arena, the tension palpable in the air. Nicolas and I faced each other, both of us radiating power and determination. The gong sounded, and the fight began.
We circled each other cautiously, each looking for an opening. The rules were clear: stepping outside the circle meant instant defeat. Nicolas was the first to strike, his attacks swift and relentless. But I had anticipated his aggression, parrying his blows and countering with my own.
The battle was fierce, each of us pushing our limits. It was clear to everyone watching that I was gaining the upper hand. Nicolas fought hard, but my training and Drako's influence gave me the edge.
That's when it happened.
I felt a sharp pinch on my right ankle, subtle but undeniable. At first, I thought it was a stray pebble or an accidental scrape. But moments later, a wave of dizziness washed over me, and my vision blurred.
What was happening to me?
My movements slowed, my strength faltered. Nicolas noticed immediately, a sinister grin spreading across his face. I struggled to steady myself, but my body wouldn't obey.
Poison.
The realization hit me like a blow to the chest. Someone had sabotaged me, and I was now at their mercy.
The crowd's cheers blurred into a distant roar as I fought to remain upright. Nicolas closed in, sensing his advantage. My mind raced, but my body betrayed me.
I stumbled, struggling to stay within the circle. Drako howled furiously in my mind, his rage echoing through every fiber of my being.
I couldn't lose. Not like this.
But as darkness began to creep into the edges of my vision, I knew I was running out of time.
-"You've been poisoned. Likely arsenic," Drako growled in my head, confirming the creeping suspicion gnawing at me.
-"Damn it. That bastard! He knew he couldn't beat me fairly, so he resorted to this," I cursed inwardly.
-"Focus! I can purge it from your system, but I need time. Your body has antibodies from the training your father put you through—this isn't the first time you've faced arsenic. You just have to hold on."
-"Understood, Drako. Do what you need to do," I replied through gritted teeth.
When I was a boy, my father had poisoned me with small doses of arsenic periodically to build my immunity—a barbaric but effective method to prepare me for moments like this. It was a dark and twisted gift, but now, it was the only thing keeping me from collapsing entirely.
Dizziness threatened to overtake me. My knees buckled, and I hit the ground hard. The crowd erupted in jeers and boos, their earlier support vanishing like smoke in the wind. Meanwhile, Nicolas stood tall, a smug grin plastered on his face as he basked in their adoration.
My head was spinning, my breath shallow, but Drako's voice was there, steady and grounding.
-"Relax. I've got this. Just hold on a little longer," he reassured me.
The referee began counting, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd.
-"Ten... nine..."
Nicolas leaned over me, his sneer widening as he mocked, "The big, bad Maximus. Reduced to nothing. How pitiful."
I clenched my fists, fury bubbling under my skin as his next words slithered into my ears.
"I'll tell you what, though," he drawled, his voice oozing malice. "When I'm crowned King, your mate will make a fine addition to my collection. Adelina will warm my bed every night, and I'll make sure to satisfy her in ways you never could."
The words ignited something primal in me. My vision turned red as rage surged through my veins.
-"Adelina is mine!" I roared internally, the claim echoing in my very soul.
-"Seven... six..."
The referee's count dragged on, each number a knife slicing into my resolve.
Nicolas stepped back, grinning viciously, savoring my apparent defeat. "Soon, she'll forget all about you. I'll make sure of it."
That was it.
With a growl that tore from my throat like thunder, I forced myself up, every muscle screaming in protest. The dizziness fought to pull me back down, but I refused to yield. My legs trembled, but I stood.
The crowd's reaction was deafening. A roar of renewed chants for my name reverberated through the arena, their faith reignited. Nicolas's grin faltered, his smug confidence replaced with a flicker of doubt.
Before I could regain my footing fully, Nicolas launched himself at me, a whirlwind of punches and kicks. His attacks were relentless, desperate to finish me off before I could recover. Each blow sent shockwaves through my already battered body, but I focused on defense.
I raised my arms, guarding my head against the barrage. My breath came in ragged gasps as I absorbed hit after hit, each one testing my endurance. My thoughts turned to Adelina—her smile, her strength, her defiance. The image of Nicolas laying a single hand on her was all the motivation I needed.
Minutes passed as Nicolas hammered me relentlessly, his blows raining down like a relentless storm. All I could do was dodge, barely keeping up as my body screamed for rest. My vision blurred at the edges, my breathing grew ragged, and my legs felt like they were made of lead. My stamina was draining fast—too fast.
I needed to act, and I needed to act now.
Through the chaos of his attacks, I focused on one thing: his movements. They followed a pattern—a rhythm I could almost hear. Three quick, punishing strikes, followed by a sharp intake of breath, and then two more powerful hits. That pause—that fleeting moment of vulnerability—was my window. I just had to time it perfectly and throw him off balance.
I feinted left, making him follow me, his eyes locked on what he thought was my next move. He bit the bait. That's when I struck—a fierce right hook to his unprotected head. The sound of the impact echoed through the air, and Nicolas staggered back, stunned.
This was my moment. I didn't let up.
Blow after blow, I attacked with everything I had, each punch fueled by adrenaline and desperation. My strikes came fast, merciless, leaving him little time to recover or regroup. Minutes felt like hours as I pushed myself beyond my limits, my mind blank except for the singular goal of bringing him down.
Finally, with one last devastating uppercut, Nicolas crumpled to the ground. His body was battered, covered in bruises and cuts. I wasn't in much better shape—I was bleeding, my muscles screaming in agony—but I didn't care. I had done it.
The referee began the count.
"Ten... nine..."
Nicolas didn't move. He lay there, his body motionless.
The referee reached the final number, paused dramatically, then raised his arm toward me. "Maximus Drako is the winner!" he shouted with all his might.
The crowd erupted into cheers, their voices a deafening roar that echoed through the arena.
-"Maximus! Maximus!" they chanted, the sound washing over me like a wave of triumph.
But inside, Drako's voice growled, cutting through the celebration.
-"They should be chanting my name, not yours. You don't deserve this win. All you've done for months is drink, while I carried your sorry ass. But fine, Maximus... for now."
I ignored his scorn, too overwhelmed by the crowd's energy.
When the arena quieted, the former King stepped forward, his voice loud and commanding.
-"My loyal people, I present to you our new King! All bow to Maximus Drako, the rightful ruler of all werewolves. I welcome you, Maximus, and wish you strength and prosperity during your reign."
-"Long live the King!" the crowd cheered in unison, repeating the words like a mantra.
I waved at them, my chest swelling with pride, though exhaustion weighed heavy on my limbs.
-"Now that we've taken the throne, let's bring our mate back," Drako urged impatiently in my head.
-"One thing at a time, Drako... one thing at a time," I reassured him.
Then, everything went black, and I collapsed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~The Celebration~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night of the skirmishes was filled with festivities. Alphas and their companions celebrated with abundant food, drink, and music. The ballroom was alive with energy—laughter echoed off the walls, and beautiful women mingled among the victorious.
Despite the revelry, I felt strangely detached. My warriors, Demetrios included, were having the time of their lives, each with a woman at their side. I, however, sat alone, nursing a drink.
-"It is the King's duty to remain faithful to his Queen," Drako's voice rumbled sternly in my head, as though sensing the temptation in the air.
-"I don't plan to cheat on Adelina. But is it so wrong to enjoy someone's company for the night? Nothing would happen," I reasoned.
-"Don't make me repeat myself," Drako growled. "If Adelina finds out, we're doomed. I won't let you risk what little chance we have with her over some meaningless distraction."
-"Fine, fine. You win, Drako. Sometimes you're worse than a nagging elder," I muttered internally, finishing my drink.
The hours dragged on as I watched others indulge in the festivities, laughing and dancing while I remained a solitary observer. By the time the celebration began to wind down, it was nearly three in the morning. Most of the guests had retired, leaving the ballroom quiet and nearly empty.
That's when Ivan, the Russian Alpha, approached me with his trademark mischievous grin.
-"What are you doing here all alone, Maximus?" he asked, raising a brow.
-"Heading to my bedroom," I replied, my voice heavy with exhaustion.
-"Already?" He laughed. "What happened to the Maximus I used to know? The one who always stayed out the latest, drinking and laughing until the sun came up?"
I shrugged. "I found my mate. I can't keep fooling around."
Ivan scoffed. "Nonsense. Back home, we say, 'Once a naughty, always a naughty.'"
His words drew a reluctant laugh from me. "You know me too well, my friend," I admitted with a small smile.
We stood there, sharing a moment of camaraderie, before I finally gathered the courage to ask him something that had been gnawing at me.
-"Ivan... why didn't you fight Nicolas? You could've been King, you know."
Ivan gave a casual shrug, leaning back against the wall with his trademark grin.
-"Man, sometimes it's wiser to give up a battle than to fight for something you know is already lost. Your wolf was a force of nature today, Maximus. I'd be a fool not to recognize his superiority. I saw how badly Drako wanted the throne. Besides..." He smirked. "Being King doesn't suit me. I'm more a man of pleasures than responsibilities."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "Then why did you even come here in the first place?"
-"I came for the experience," he said with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. "And, of course, to see my best friend win the throne. What else?"
I rolled my eyes. "You're unbelievable. How could you be so sure I'd beat Nicolas?"
Ivan's expression darkened slightly. "Nicolas is nothing compared to you, Max. I saw it. And, to be honest, I suspect he used... less-than-honorable methods to try and win."
I stiffened, my eyes scanning the room instinctively. Wolves were still lingering nearby, chatting and drinking. I wasn't sure who I could trust yet, and this wasn't a topic I wanted to discuss openly. "This isn't the time or the place to talk about that," I said sharply, cutting him off.
Ivan nodded in understanding, though his jaw tightened. "Whenever you need me, don't hesitate to call. I'll support you 100%—no matter what."
I placed a hand on his shoulder. "Thanks, Ivan. It's good to know I have true friends around me."
Ivan's grin returned, his mood lightening. "I've known you for years, Max. I know what you're capable of. You're the right man for the throne, and I'm certain you'll accomplish everything you set your sights on."
I sighed. "I just hope I don't disappoint you."
-"You won't." He waved off my concerns. "You're going to be the best King we've ever had. Now, enough serious talk. Tell me—when did you find your mate? How did that happen?"
The mention of Adelina caught me off guard. I hesitated for a moment before answering. "I found her during my last tour of the packs."
Ivan leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. "Who is she? Don't leave me hanging—spill the details!"
-"She's the daughter of an Alpha," I admitted, "but when I first met her, I thought she was one of the omegas."
Ivan's eyes widened, and then he burst into laughter. "Seriously? Oh, man, please tell me you didn't treat her like shit!"
I groaned, already regretting bringing this up. "Sorry to disappoint you, but your hopes are misplaced."
He grinned mischievously. "What did you do to this poor girl, beast?"
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Fine. I'll tell you everything."
And so, I began recounting the story of how I met Adelina, from the initial misunderstandings to the mistakes I'd made along the way. Ivan's reactions were dramatic, ranging from mock horror to exaggerated laughter, which only fueled Drako's growing irritation.
-"He's mocking our mate. I won't stand for it!" Drako growled in my mind, his tone brimming with anger.
-"Relax, Drako. He doesn't mean any harm," I reassured him, though his growls continued as I spoke.
The time passed quickly, our conversation alternating between teasing banter and heartfelt moments. Eventually, we both agreed to call it a night. As I made my way back to my room, Drako's voice echoed in my head, his tone stern and relentless.
-"I told you your old ways would come back to bite us. If you'd treated her better from the start, she wouldn't have walked away!"
I sighed, my exhaustion starting to catch up with me. "You're like a broken record, Drako. Can we save this lecture for another time?"
-"No, we can't! You're the King now, you idiot! You need to act like it. The first thing you must do is win back our mate—and do it as soon as possible!"
-"Drako, if I want to have the strength to win her back tomorrow, you need to let me get some sleep. I'm exhausted."
There was a long pause before he finally relented.
-"Fine... but don't waste time. Tomorrow, we make things right with Adelina."
-"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Drako."
-"Goodnight, fool."
I rolled my eyes at his grumbled response and collapsed onto the bed, falling into a dreamless sleep almost instantly.