Vengeance in His Bed

Dorrent walked into the expansive sitting room with a slow, leisurely stride, his heavy footsteps echoing against the floor.

On the center leather sofa, Guron and Himelda were sitting side by side, their eyes fixed on the wall-mounted television screen displaying the evening financial news. The ambient light of the screen flickered across their faces, but the calm atmosphere of the room shattered the exact moment Dorrent approached.

Without a word, Dorrent bypassed the surrounding armchairs and sat down directly on the couch beside his father, leaning his head back against the leather cushion with an unmistakable, triumphant air.

Guron turned his head, his sharp eyes evaluating the relaxed, victorious posture of his son. He muted the television with a flick of his wrist. "You look like a man who just conquered an entire continent, Dorrent. Did something happen?"

"I succeeded," Dorrent declared simply, his voice carrying a deep, resonant rumble that filled the room.

Guron tilted his head, his brow furrowing as a brief flash of impatience crossed his rugged features. "Succeeded in what? Unless it’s about the expansion in the northern sector, the only news I actually care to hear from you right now is that Jannah is pregnant with my grandchild."

Dorrent’s lips slowly curled into a broad, arrogant smile. He turned his eyes toward his father. "That is precisely what I am talking about. She’s pregnant."

The room seemed to freeze for a fraction of a second.

Guron’s eyes widened in sheer, sudden delight. Before any other words could be exchanged, the elder Alpha let out a booming laugh, reaching over to snatch Dorrent into a fierce, suffocating bear hug. He slammed his heavy palm against Dorrent’s broad shoulder with enough force to rattle the furniture, his face beaming with intense pride.

"I knew it!" Guron roared, pulling back to grip Dorrent’s shoulders tightly. "I knew my son wouldn’t fail me! Congratulations, boy! You’ve done exceptional work!"

Sitting on the opposite end of the couch, Himelda’s posture went instantly rigid. Her hands clutched the armrests so hard her knuckles turned stark white. She watched the display between her husband and son with a look of utter, undisguised disgust, her lip curling in bitter contempt.

"What on earth is there to celebrate this early?" Himelda cut in, her voice slicing through Guron’s thunderous laughter like a blade. She sat up straight, crossing her legs with a cold, refined arrogance, staring at Dorrent with absolute disdain. "The pregnancy isn’t even visible yet. Aren’t the two of you counting your chickens far too early?"

Dorrent didn’t even flinch. He casually draped his arm over the back of the sofa, looking at his mother with a cool, unbothered expression. "You wouldn’t understand, Mother."

"Oh, I understand plenty," Himelda scoffed, her voice rising into a sharp, poisonous register. She leaned forward, her bloodshot eyes narrowing into dangerous slits as she locked her gaze onto Dorrent. "Aren’t you worried at all, Dorrent? How can you sit there so proudly when that pregnancy might belong to someone else entirely?"

Guron’s laughter instantly died in his throat. He snapped his head toward his wife, his jaw clenching tightly. "Himelda, watch your mouth—"

"No, Guron, let him hear it!" Himelda snapped back, completely ignoring her husband’s warning growl as she pointed a manicured finger at Dorrent. "There is no possible way that lower-sector girl has given her heart to the man who slaughtered her family! Why haven’t you considered that the baby might belong to Damian Boren?!"

Dorrent’s silver eyes flickered with a brief, dangerous spark, but his posture remained impeccably relaxed.

"I saw how that boy looked at her," Himelda pressed on, her tone dripping with malicious conviction, her face twisting with anxiety. "When Damian Boren was treating her wounds after she was shot, the way he touched her, the way he looked at her—it was obvious! How can you be so blind, Dorrent? She could easily be carrying his blood just to mock you!"

Dorrent slowly adjusted his posture, turning his full, undivided attention to his mother. His gaze was icy, yet dripping with a supreme, untouchable confidence.

"I understand that you can’t accept Jannah because of your late brother, Dean," Dorrent delivered smoothly, his voice dropping an octave into a low, terrifying baritone. "And for your loss, Mother, I am truly sorry. But as for Jannah’s pregnancy... I am absolute in my certainty."

He paused, a dark, dangerous smirk playing on his lips as he held her hostile stare.

"The girl has never been with anyone else," Dorrent stated with absolute authority, his tone leaving zero room for debate. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes flashing with a mocking light. "Are you really that surprised that I managed to win over her heart? Your own son is just that capable."

Himelda let out a harsh, bitter laugh, shaking her head in complete disbelief. "Capable? Don’t fool yourself, Dorrent! She is nothing more than a naive, impressionable teenager who was temporarily infatuated by your good looks and your status! You haven’t won anything!"

Dorrent chuckled, leaning back comfortably against the leather cushions. "Well, all thanks to your good looks, Mother, I’ve never had to struggle with winning hearts."

Himelda’s breath caught in her throat at his sharp, casual counter. Her eyes flared with a mixture of rage and a mother’s dark, foreboding dread. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping into a low, haunting whisper that chilled the air between them.

"Enjoy your arrogance while it lasts, my son," Himelda hissed, her eyes locking onto his with terrifying intensity. "Because when you finally lose your heart for real to that cursed woman... you might not even have the energy to talk. She will rip your heart straight out of your chest and crush it in her bare hands."

The room hung in a heavy, suffocating silence for a long moment. Dorrent didn’t offer a single word of rebuttal to her dark prophecy. Instead, he casually shifted his gaze away from his mother and turned toward Guron, as if Himelda’s entire outburst had been nothing more than background noise.

"Father," Dorrent began, his voice calm and decisive. "I am thinking about marrying her tomorrow."

Guron raised his eyebrows in surprise, though a faint, approving grin began to form at the corners of his mouth.

"And immediately after the ceremony," Dorrent continued, his eyes briefly flicking toward Himelda with an intentional, deliberate coldness, "we will be moving out to my estate in the mountains. It will create more than enough room for us, and give us the privacy we need."

Himelda slammed her hand down onto the armrest of the couch, standing up abruptly. "There is absolute no way in hell I am going to let you live far away from us with a woman who could murder you in your sleep at any given moment!" she shouted, her composure completely shattering. "You are my only son, Dorrent! I will not allow you to isolate yourself in the mountains with that biological disaster!"

Dorrent looked up at her, completely unfazed by her outburst. "She loves me, Mother. And she already knows the truth about the black cycle rut I underwent nine years ago. She knows it wasn’t my fault, that Boren was the orchestrator behind the entire massacre, and Boren has already been captured and neutralized. There is nothing left for you to worry about."

"If there is nothing to worry about, then why can’t the two of you just live here under our roof?!" Himelda demanded, her voice straining with desperation. "Why do you have to run off to the mountains?!"

Dorrent slowly stood up from the sofa, his towering, powerful frame instantly dominating the space. He looked down at his mother with a sharp, protective intensity that brooked no resistance.

"Because I refuse to let you stress my pregnant wife," Dorrent stated coldly, his eyes narrowing. "Your constant hostility and your bitter resentment could easily endanger her health and lead to a miscarriage. I will not put my heir at risk for your peace of mind."

Himelda gasped, her chest heaving as his words hit her like a physical blow. The thought of being blamed for losing the family’s heir—especially when Guron was so obsessively fixated on it—sent a wave of panic through her. She swallowed her pride, her hands shaking slightly as she looked at her son.

"I won’t... I won’t bother the girl at all," Himelda blurted out, her voice dropping into a tight, desperate plea. "I promise you, Dorrent! I won’t say a single cross word to her! I won’t even step into her quarters if you don’t want me to! Just stay here where we can keep an eye on things!"

Dorrent watched her closely, calculating the sincerity and fear in her eyes. He remained silent for several long, agonizing seconds, letting the tension build until Himelda was practically holding her breath.

"Fine," Dorrent finally declared, his tone strict and unyielding. "I will give you a two-week observation period. I will watch very carefully how you interact with Jannah every single day. Your behavior during these fourteen days will determine whether I move my family out to the mountains permanently or stay."

Himelda clenched her teeth, her pride burning to ashes under her son’s ruthless terms, but she knew she had been backed into a corner. She couldn’t afford to let him slip completely out of her reach.

"Agreed," Himelda gritted out tightly, sealing her fate for the next two weeks.

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