Russel was being yanked back and forth as the king tried to determine what the hell just stung the back of his neck. It was barely noticeable true, but he still felt it nonetheless. A tiny, insignificant, bit of sensation that was akin to the bite of an insect or getting stung by a bee. His eyes narrowed as he looked at his sons first. Not one of them looked as if they knew anything. Not only that but all four had slack-jawed looks of complete stupidity on their faces. Carter moved on from them. They didn’t do it. They didn’t have the balls.

The girl then?

He turned toward the human girl, Lola Tarnvol, the royal pain in his ass. She was still being restrained by Zeo and Enok and had become so emotional, she could barely even stand up now. Her tear-filled eyes were focused on him though, full of grief for what he’d done to Russel. Grief and rage he saw.

“Don’t worry,” Carter said with a cocky smile. He walked over to her, carrying Russel along. He was starting to struggle again, he noticed. The boy’s regenerative capabilities were still working hard to heal him and had, at least for now, given him back a little bit of mobility. “As soon as I take Russel’s heart, yours will be next. Then you two can spend eternity together in the next life or drift in oblivion. Whatever comes next.”

He laughed raucously.

“You both will be finding out the answer to that question rea…”

His voice suddenly faltered and died out. His eyes widened with confusion.

What the hell?

Parts of his body stopped working completely. The arm holding Russel suddenly went limp and his son fell to the ground. Then, his left leg seemed to lose all power and he tipped forward. He tried to stop his fall but the rest of his body stopped responding to him as well and he realized with horror he couldn’t move anything. Not a muscle. Not a finger. Not even an eyelid.

He was paralyzed.

Lola’s crying and harsh sobs tapered and died down. The other brothers all shot to their feet, and stared at their father, wondering what the hell just happened to him. They looked about to rush to him.

“St-stop!” Russel said, pulling in ragged breaths as he struggled to his feet. He was clutching his side and most of the wolfish features to him were gone now. He was simply too weak to keep up the change. “This is st-still the challenge. N-not one of you…b-be-better…i-interfere!”

He took a couple of painful steps toward Carter, who was still on the floor, unable to move. His eyes worked though. They glared at his son.

Russel limped over to the fallen King of Oclan, not sure what the hell was going on either. His father shouldn’t be on the ground now, unable to move. Nothing should have been able to do that to him. Nothing at all. And if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought his father had been felled by ghoul poison. The symptoms were almost identical to the ones he’d suffered after his fight with the ghouls the first time.

But how?

He didn’t know and if he was being honest with himself, he didn’t really care. This was his one and only chance and he didn’t give a fuck that he technically had nothing to do with it. Or that he had no idea how it happened.

He was still going to take it.

He reached down, grabbed his father’s head by the hair, and yanked it up, baring his throat.

“This is for my mom,” he whispered, his voice so low only the two of them could hear. “And for Lola, you son of a bitch.”

Carter’s eyes glared up at his son with intense hatred but he couldn’t say a word thanks to the paralytic effects of whatever the hell happened to him. Looking into Russel’s eyes, he knew his son would show no weakness now.

He was going to kill him.

Russel brought up his free hand, the claws lengthening into deadly and wicked instruments of death. Then, in one decisive move, he slashed downward. He felt claws rip across his father’s throat. Blood immediately splashed out in a torrent as the king’s opened throat poured out his lifeblood onto the stones of the throne room.

Russel knew, however, that wouldn’t kill him. He let go of his head and watched with immense satisfaction when he toppled over onto his back, unable to even bring his hands up to stop the bleeding from his throat.

Russel stood over him, a foot on either side of his body. Then he looked at Lola, who had stopped crying now and looked intensely relieved to see he was still alive.

And then, with no hesitation, Russel promptly slammed a hand straight into his father’s chest and ripped out his heart.