A Warrior's Second Chance (Faye and Alexander) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Claim

Gerald’s hands twitched against his knees as he sat rigid in the chair, the weight of Marcus’s presence pressing down on him.

He dared not move too suddenly, dared not even shift his gaze away from the man who sat across from him, sipping his drink as though they were discussing ordinary business. Gerald’s throat felt dry, his voice thin and hesitant when he finally asked,

“W…what do you need me for?”

Marcus leaned back, every inch of him poised with the confidence of someone who believed the world already belonged to him. His ring glinted in the dim light as he swirled his glass lazily.

“What do I need you for?” Marcus repeated softly, as though savoring the words. Then his smirk deepened. “You, Gerald, are not as useless as you think. You were an elder of Blood Crescent once. That means you had influence, allies, respect. And I would bet good coin you still do. Titles can be stripped, but connections? Loyalties? Grievances? Those linger long

after.”

Gerald shifted, uneasy. He opened his mouth to protest, but Marcus raised a hand, silencing

him.

“There are plenty within the council who were never satisfied with Alexander’s decision to cast you out. Plenty of regular members, too, who whispered behind closed doors that he was too harsh, that he acted like a boy drunk on power. They may not have spoken up in the

open,

but I know they think it. And resentment is fertile ground, Gerald. All I need is someone

to till the soil.”

Gerald’s lips pressed into a thin line. He wanted to say Marcus was wrong, that the pack had already moved on, that whatever bitter voices had existed had long since gone silent. But he stayed quiet, knowing better than to push him into anger.

Marcus’s gaze sharpened. “So, your task is simple. I need you to gather support for me. Use your knowledge of the council, of the pack, of the fault lines Alexander’s arrogance has created. Convince them that the throne is not as secure as they think. That their loyalty to Alexander is misplaced. I could use brute force to make them kneel, but this—” he gestured with his glass, the liquid shimmering- “this is politics. And politics requires more than strength. It requires allies.”

He leaned forward now, his eyes dark. “And you, Gerald, will be the one to give me those allies.”

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Gerald swallowed, his fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his trousers. “What if It’s not as easy as you think?” he asked.

Marcus’s smile was slow, deliberate. “Then you would be useless to me. And I have no patience for useless things.”

The silence stretched. Gerald’s heart pounded painfully against his ribs. He forced a weak nod, the only safe response he could give.

Marcus sat back again, satisfied, and continued. “But I don’t just want you for your influence. I want your counsel. You were an elder long before Alexander drew his first breath. You know the inner workings of Blood Crescent better than most alive today. I want your honesty, Gerald. With it, I will shape my strategy. And in return…” His voice dropped lower, almost seductive in its promise. “In return, I will not only restore you to your former glory, I will make you more. When Blood Crescent is mine, you will rise higher than ever before.”

Gerald’s chest tightened. The promise glimmered like gold in front of him, but he knew better than to trust it. He forced his thoughts into order, his mind circling the bitter truth.

As tempting as it sounded, Marcus’s plan was riddled with cracks. For all the bravado in his voice, Marcus underestimated Alexander. That was the first mistake.

Yes, Alexander was young, he could be harsh, proud, even merciless. But he was no fool. He had been forged in fire, raised to fight before he was even grown. Gerald remembered watching him as a teenager, standing on the front lines with warriors twice his age, already leading, already commanding loyalty by sheer force of will. He had never lost a battle, not one, and that kind of reputation was impossible to erase.

Even those who disliked Alexander personally respected him as Alpha. And respect, Gerald knew, was harder to break than affection.

Then there was politics. For all his arrogance, Alexander had inherited his father’s gift for building alliances. Over the years, he had secured ties not only within the pack but beyond its borders. Other packs, even human officials who turned a blind eye when necessary. He was entrenched, rooted in power.

And Marcus? Marcus was a ghost. A name no one had heard, a shadow claiming blood he could not yet prove. It would take more than talks and old resentments to make the people follow him. Even those who grumbled against Alexander would not simply trade him for a stranger.

Gerald saw the truth clearly…Marcus’s chances were slim. Very slim.

But he also saw his own truth.

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If Marcus thought him useless, he would be dead. The only reason he still drew breath was because Marcus imagined some purpose in him. So, Gerald’s path narrowed to a single choice…play along, appear useful…promise what Marcus wanted to hear. And pray for a chance to survive this storm.

Marcus’s voice cut into his spiraling thoughts. “You’re quiet, Gerald. Too quiet. Tell me…” He leaned forward again, his eyes like knives. “Are you telling me you cannot do it? That you cannot win me support in Blood Crescent?”

Gerald’s stomach lurched. That was the trap. The corner pressed in around him. If he said yes, Marcus might decide he was a liability. If he said no, Marcus would brand him a coward. Either way, it could mean his death.

Gerald forced himself to meet Marcus’s gaze, though it made his skin crawl. He schooled his face into careful neutrality, neither defiant nor groveling.

“I am saying,” he replied slowly, “that Alexander is not a man easily displaced. He has earned respect even from those who dislike him. But… if there is a path, if there are cracks in his armor, I would know where to find them. That knowledge could be used. If you truly are who you say you are, then perhaps the people only need to be reminded of what was kept from them. Perhaps they need the right voice to lead them toward truth.”

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