Chapter 9 "interesting"

At the massive table, the only sounds that were made were the ones coming from the plates and spoons, as they ate in silence, and threw occasional glares at him.

A nasty smirk graced his lips as he scanned the faces of his stepmother and. stepbrothers.

A dark, vibrant flush spreads through Fredrick's face in irritation, as he twists the spoon in his right hand.

"Will you stop doing that?" one of his step brothers, Carlos, asked, and hissed.

"Doing what exactly?" Marcos inquired, his brow curving in amusement and his smirk growing even wider.

"Stop acting like you don't know what you're doing and wipe that filthy smirk off your face," Carlos said, slamming his fist on the table and abruptly rising from his chair.

His chair scraped the ground before landing on the floor with a thud.

Marcos chuckled, slightly swaying his head. "Why? Does being in a good mood bother you that much?"

"Yes, it does." in a hushed tone, he responded. "It bothers me so much and I felt like doing everything to wipe it off, especially when I know why that stupid smirk is dancing on your lips."

He kept clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. He had a prominent vein on his neck as he struggled to keep his rage in check.

"You do?" Marcos asked in fake wonder, as he snorted.

"You finally have brains enough to know what's happening around you, and here I was thinking you were dumb." Marcos sneered.

Carlos felt his veins pop, and the only thing he wanted was to see Marcos dead.

"How dare you!" Carlos snarled.

He banged his fists harder on the table, ready to pounce on Carlos, but he was restrained by his mother.

Marcos sat unfazed, an even wider grin plastered on his face, as he watched Carlos struggle to get away from his mother's grip.

His eyes scanned the table, and he watched his other two stepbrothers struggle to keep their anger in check, and he never missed the hostility that flashed in their eyes.

His gaze scanned the table once more before landing on his father, whose eyes sparkled in entertainment.

Marcos felt his blood boil at the sight of his father's amused face, his smirk dropping a bit as the temperature in the hall lowered a bit.

Silence reigned in the hall briefly as they all felt the temperature of the room dropping.

All eyes settled on him as they felt the depressing air coming from him.

"Nothing to smirk about anymore, is there?" It was Carlos's turn to smirk.

Marcos snapped his head towards Carlos, breaking the staring contest he had with his father when their eyes met.

"Stop messing with me. You might end up dead, and I know your mom wouldn't like that one bit.” Marcos warned, his voice trailing off.

"Are you threatening me?" Carlos yelled, his eyes narrowed.

"Carlos, seat now!" he heard his father's voice booming through the hall, bouncing off the walls and sending shivers down everyone's spine.

His father's eyes flashed a dull red, and everyone at the table bowed their heads in submission except Marcos.

"You should have let him keep talking," Marcos whispered, his face calm and void of emotion.

His father let out a hearty laugh, the sound vibrating from his chest as he wiped the little tears from the corner of his eyes.

"With that look on your face, I could already tell you were seconds away from ripping his head off, and as much as I would love to see that happen, I still want to keep my food down in my stomach."

Carlos's face morphed into horror at the reply of his father.

"You heard what Marcos said, and that was all you could say? what is wrong with you? —" one of his stepmothers, Joyce, spoke up.

However, she was interrupted by his father's loud growl and the banging of his fist on the table. "Watch your tongue, woman," he warned, his eyes flashing once more.

"Because you have a child for me doesn't give you the right to talk to me the way you please. Next time you do, it will surprise you when you find yourself on the other side.”

Joyce lowered her head as she cowered in fear, hiding her small frame behind her son's larger ones.

"Forgive me, sir. it was a slip of the tongue and it won't happen again,” she apologized, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear due to their supernatural abilities.

Not satisfied with the way she responded, "louder!" he shouted, smacking his fists once more onto the table, making others jump in fright, and the cutlery fell off the table along with the plates.

The plates fell with a clang, shattering into a million pieces and scaring the boy seated close to Marcos.

Marcos watched his brother squirm in fear as he watched him gulp down nothing in particular.

Marcos felt a pang in his heart and felt his heart crack at the sight of his squirming brother.

At that moment, everything turned blurry and the only thing he saw was his brother.

"Enough," he called softly, his voice filled with authority.

Everything that was going on came to a halt at the sound of his chilling voice.

"I didn't come here for this. You have had fun, right? Now tell me why I had to come here or I am leaving.” he threatened, his voice turning dark as he made a move to leave.

He locked eyes with his father, each daring the other, and in the end, his father succumbed. "I called you here regarding the throne." his father smugly replied.

Marcos felt his wolf stir, and his eyes flashed a very dangerous red as he glared at his father.

"You called me here for such an insignificant little thing as that?" he started, his voice rising with each word.

"How dare you dismiss throne matters as trivial or insignificant?" Frederick spoke up, his voice slightly trembling.

"And whoever asked for your opinion on this?" he shushed him off. "I am leaving." Marcos began by standing up to leave.

"You will do no such thing," his father yelled, demandingly.

"Watch me," Marcos replied, walking toward the hall's entrance. His strides were fast and his aura daring.

"Don't you dare take another step, Marcos." his father threatened

Marcos halted and turned back, "Or what? place some guards at the entrance? You and I both know that threats don't work on me.” he mocked

"Find something else because there is nothing you say or do that can make me stay," he said and continued his steps.

"Don't you want the throne? Others would die just to be king, and yet, here you are being offered one, but you don't even act like it is important at all." His father howled in frustration, making him come to a halt again.

"When did I tell you that I wanted to be a king? Did I ever tell you I need all these things you keep passing on to me? I wanted to become a fucking doctor, but you don't care.” Marcos screamed angrily, facing his father.

“Give the throne to someone who deserves it. Someone like Richard who's sitting over there. He is the first son, isn't he? Then why do you keep pushing all these things on me when I don't deserve them?” he said all of this at once, unable to keep anger in his voice.

“If you do that, I am sure it would stop those idiots of stepbrothers I have from trying to murder me.” he ranted, his words surprising everyone, even himself.

"Never!" his father replied, coming out of shock. “None of these idiots are qualified for the throne except you.”

A dark, dry laugh left Marco's lips before he spoke. “Then why do I need to hear anything concerning the throne when I am already sitting on it?” He inquired sarcastically, his tone gnawing.

His sarcastic reply cut the edge of his father's tongue, leaving him speechless.

"If that's all, I would be leaving." he declared, his voice laced with power as he scanned the room, daring anyone to try and stop him. Seeing that none of them made a move, he left the hall.

Once outside, he yanked the tie around his neck. He hurried down the front stairs and towards a fountain.

His betas were already outside, waiting for his arrival because he had already mind-linked them when he was about to open the door.

The car's door was held open by his beta, urging him to walk in.

He was about to take a step into the car when a voice called out, “Marcos, please wait!”

t.b.c

At the massive table, the only sounds that were made were the ones coming from the plates and spoons, as they ate in silence, and threw occasional glares at him.

A nasty smirk graced his lips as he scanned the faces of his stepmother and. stepbrothers.

A dark, vibrant flush spreads through Fredrick's face in irritation, as he twists the spoon in his right hand.

"Will you stop doing that?" one of his step brothers, Carlos, asked, and hissed.

"Doing what exactly?" Marcos inquired, his brow curving in amusement and his smirk growing even wider.

"Stop acting like you don't know what you're doing and wipe that filthy smirk off your face," Carlos said, slamming his fist on the table and abruptly rising from his chair.

His chair scraped the ground before landing on the floor with a thud.

Marcos chuckled, slightly swaying his head. "Why? Does being in a good mood bother you that much?"

"Yes, it does." in a hushed tone, he responded. "It bothers me so much and I felt like doing everything to wipe it off, especially when I know why that stupid smirk is dancing on your lips."

He kept clenching and unclenching his fists repeatedly. He had a prominent vein on his neck as he struggled to keep his rage in check.

"You do?" Marcos asked in fake wonder, as he snorted.

"You finally have brains enough to know what's happening around you, and here I was thinking you were dumb." Marcos sneered.

Carlos felt his veins pop, and the only thing he wanted was to see Marcos dead.

"How dare you!" Carlos snarled.

He banged his fists harder on the table, ready to pounce on Carlos, but he was restrained by his mother.

Marcos sat unfazed, an even wider grin plastered on his face, as he watched Carlos struggle to get away from his mother's grip.

His eyes scanned the table, and he watched his other two stepbrothers struggle to keep their anger in check, and he never missed the hostility that flashed in their eyes.

His gaze scanned the table once more before landing on his father, whose eyes sparkled in entertainment.

Marcos felt his blood boil at the sight of his father's amused face, his smirk dropping a bit as the temperature in the hall lowered a bit.

Silence reigned in the hall briefly as they all felt the temperature of the room dropping.

All eyes settled on him as they felt the depressing air coming from him.

"Nothing to smirk about anymore, is there?" It was Carlos's turn to smirk.

Marcos snapped his head towards Carlos, breaking the staring contest he had with his father when their eyes met.

"Stop messing with me. You might end up dead, and I know your mom wouldn't like that one bit.” Marcos warned, his voice trailing off.

"Are you threatening me?" Carlos yelled, his eyes narrowed.

"Carlos, seat now!" he heard his father's voice booming through the hall, bouncing off the walls and sending shivers down everyone's spine.

His father's eyes flashed a dull red, and everyone at the table bowed their heads in submission except Marcos.

"You should have let him keep talking," Marcos whispered, his face calm and void of emotion.

His father let out a hearty laugh, the sound vibrating from his chest as he wiped the little tears from the corner of his eyes.

"With that look on your face, I could already tell you were seconds away from ripping his head off, and as much as I would love to see that happen, I still want to keep my food down in my stomach."

Carlos's face morphed into horror at the reply of his father.

"You heard what Marcos said, and that was all you could say? what is wrong with you? —" one of his stepmothers, Joyce, spoke up.

However, she was interrupted by his father's loud growl and the banging of his fist on the table. "Watch your tongue, woman," he warned, his eyes flashing once more.

"Because you have a child for me doesn't give you the right to talk to me the way you please. Next time you do, it will surprise you when you find yourself on the other side.”

Joyce lowered her head as she cowered in fear, hiding her small frame behind her son's larger ones.

"Forgive me, sir. it was a slip of the tongue and it won't happen again,” she apologized, her voice barely above a whisper but loud enough for everyone to hear due to their supernatural abilities.

Not satisfied with the way she responded, "louder!" he shouted, smacking his fists once more onto the table, making others jump in fright, and the cutlery fell off the table along with the plates.

The plates fell with a clang, shattering into a million pieces and scaring the boy seated close to Marcos.

Marcos watched his brother squirm in fear as he watched him gulp down nothing in particular.

Marcos felt a pang in his heart and felt his heart crack at the sight of his squirming brother.

At that moment, everything turned blurry and the only thing he saw was his brother.

"Enough," he called softly, his voice filled with authority.

Everything that was going on came to a halt at the sound of his chilling voice.

"I didn't come here for this. You have had fun, right? Now tell me why I had to come here or I am leaving.” he threatened, his voice turning dark as he made a move to leave.

He locked eyes with his father, each daring the other, and in the end, his father succumbed. "I called you here regarding the throne." his father smugly replied.

Marcos felt his wolf stir, and his eyes flashed a very dangerous red as he glared at his father.

"You called me here for such an insignificant little thing as that?" he started, his voice rising with each word.

"How dare you dismiss throne matters as trivial or insignificant?" Frederick spoke up, his voice slightly trembling.

"And whoever asked for your opinion on this?" he shushed him off. "I am leaving." Marcos began by standing up to leave.

"You will do no such thing," his father yelled, demandingly.

"Watch me," Marcos replied, walking toward the hall's entrance. His strides were fast and his aura daring.

"Don't you dare take another step, Marcos." his father threatened

Marcos halted and turned back, "Or what? place some guards at the entrance? You and I both know that threats don't work on me.” he mocked

"Find something else because there is nothing you say or do that can make me stay," he said and continued his steps.

"Don't you want the throne? Others would die just to be king, and yet, here you are being offered one, but you don't even act like it is important at all." His father howled in frustration, making him come to a halt again.

"When did I tell you that I wanted to be a king? Did I ever tell you I need all these things you keep passing on to me? I wanted to become a fucking doctor, but you don't care.” Marcos screamed angrily, facing his father.

“Give the throne to someone who deserves it. Someone like Richard who's sitting over there. He is the first son, isn't he? Then why do you keep pushing all these things on me when I don't deserve them?” he said all of this at once, unable to keep anger in his voice.

“If you do that, I am sure it would stop those idiots of stepbrothers I have from trying to murder me.” he ranted, his words surprising everyone, even himself.

"Never!" his father replied, coming out of shock. “None of these idiots are qualified for the throne except you.”

A dark, dry laugh left Marco's lips before he spoke. “Then why do I need to hear anything concerning the throne when I am already sitting on it?” He inquired sarcastically, his tone gnawing.

His sarcastic reply cut the edge of his father's tongue, leaving him speechless.

"If that's all, I would be leaving." he declared, his voice laced with power as he scanned the room, daring anyone to try and stop him. Seeing that none of them made a move, he left the hall.

Once outside, he yanked the tie around his neck. He hurried down the front stairs and towards a fountain.

His betas were already outside, waiting for his arrival because he had already mind-linked them when he was about to open the door.

The car's door was held open by his beta, urging him to walk in.

He was about to take a step into the car when a voice called out, “Marcos, please wait!”