The Alpha's Chubby Obsession. novel Chapter 194

Side Story 34-2

Throwing him over my shoulder, I headed straight for my room.

Through the mind link, I called Randy.

“Meet me in my room. Bring tapes.”

His response was immediate, sharp.

He knew something had gone very, very wrong.

Once I got into my room, I tossed his body onto the floor and watched him lie there he was

half-conscious.

Back in the White Tower-first as a student, then as a council member-things like him used to

circle around me constantly. Assassins. Hired shadows. Cowards.

And I always ended up killing them.

In the beginning, I’d waste hours questioning them, but it never led to anything. They never knew who had actually sent them, because the real puppeteer hid too well. I recognized that pattern

immediately.

My uncle.

He always used middlemen. Layers between himself and the blood he paid for.

But I’ve documented every single one of them.

Every name.

Every face.

Every rat he’s ever hired.

I’ll crush them all when the time is right.

And that time is coming fast-because they’re not only targeting me anymore.

They’re targeting my mate.

The woman I would kill for.

The woman I’d burn this entire pack to the ground for.

The door opened, and Randy walked in, shutting it quietly behind him. I had sat back, crossing one leg over the other, a glass of whisky resting in my hand as I stared at the limp figure on the floor.

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Side Story 34-2

Clau

I could feel the assassin was awake, but pretending to be unconscious. They always do that.

“I see,” Randy drawled, a grin pulling at his lips as he looked him over. “Did this one come to attack

you?”

“Mmm. Not really, Clara. And he seems to be awake… isn’t he?” I said, lifting my brow.

The man shot up immediately, bolting toward the window in a desperate attempt to escape.

He didn’t make it two steps.

Randy moved faster than he did-caught him by the collar, yanked him back so hard he flew through the air and slammed into the wall with a violent crack.

“Not so fast, pretty boy,” Randy said, strolling toward him with a lazy smile.

And I just sat there, watching it all unfold, calm… and already thinking of the questions I would

force out of him next.

Randy tore the mask off his face, revealing a werewolf somewhere in his thirties, blood still spilling

from his lips.

“Who sent you?” Randy asked, gripping the guy by his neck and lifting him off the floor. His fangs had already dropped, his eyes glowing purple with rage, with veins popping at the sides.

The man kicked weakly, a strangled sound leaving him before Randy finally let him fall with a heavy thud. He lay there coughing, trying to drag air back into his lungs.

But before he could even breathe, Randy drove his boot into his stomach. The man folded, crashing back down. He half-shifted out of panic, trying to attack Randy, but my beta was faster. He slapped him across the face with his elongated nails.

The assassin dropped again-second time in seconds.

I took a swig of my whiskey, set the glass down, and got up slowly.

The moment he saw me approaching, his lips trembled like he wanted to beg. I crouched to his level, my voice flat and sharp.

“Who showed you to my mate’s room?”

I didn’t need to ask twice.

“Mr… Mr. Sinclair,” he stuttered, voice shaking. “Please… p-please don’t kill me-”

The name hit me like a spark to dry wood. My eyes widened with anger.

He kept begging like a useless coward, but I was already done listening.

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Side Story 34-2

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