Page 296 of Awakened

“You still haven’t answered our question,” I point out. “Why is he doing this?”

He leans back in his chair slowly, wincing like his bones ache. The cuffs around his hands jangle with each movement. His shirt’s half torn at the sleeve, and his pants are covered in dirt. This isn’t a man who was dropped off at the front door nicely. He had to fight to get here.

“At his core, Jonathan is a power-hungry megalomaniac who thinks far too highly of himself. From what I understand, when he was younger, his father used to work in accounting for a minor vampire house. He had access to archives that most humans had no idea even existed. One day he found something hidden among them. A prophecy or a myth or—” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Whatever it was, it made him believe there was a girl out there who would be born with the ability to do unnatural things. ‘The blood of gods that would wake the world,’ I’ve heard him say.”

“Idril,” Vae breathes, taking a fortifying sip of his drink.

The doctor looks surprised, but continues. “Yes. When his father was killed, Jonathan inherited only that story. It consumed him. He was obsessed. He spent decades combing through libraries, folklore, and ancient history. He went on trips all over the world, searching for the next piece of the puzzle. He was sure the prophecy was real and that finding the girl would make him powerful. If he controlled her, he ultimately controlled her power.”

My throat constricts, and I have to bite back a snarl at the thought of anyone controlling my Mate like that.

“So that led him to Annalise somehow?”

The Beta nods. “I don’t know how, but yes. He found her and, presumably, charmed her long enough to force a Mate Bond on her. He wanted an Alpha son. Thought it would be his legacy and his weapon. Proof not just that he had been chosen to sire a being with immense power but also that he was just as important as the vampires and wolven.”

Gav hums, tapping his fingers on his chair arm. “He wanted a seat at the table.”

“He wanted to sit at the head of the table,” Albertson corrects. “Make no mistake, Last Shield. Jonathan Varenthrall had no plans to share his eventual power with anyone.”

“It wouldn’t have been his, though,” Dax argues. “It would have been his sons. Or—in this case— daughters.”

“You don’t understand. He would have groomed that child to let him control every aspect of his life. The child would have been loyal only to his father, giving Jonathan the real power. If that hadn’t worked, I have no doubt he’d have found a way to force the issue.” He waves his hand like he’s batting the idea away. “It makes no difference. Who’s to say that would have even worked? The fact is, Annalise didn’t give him an Alpha son. She gave him an Omega daughter.”

He inhales deeply. “He… broke. Whatever bits of him remained that made him human were gone after that. He hated his daughter. Hated Annalise. Now, mind, these are things I picked up after years of working for him, so I’m only extrapolating. What I do know is this— eventually he started to believe that the power didn’t come from the bloodline, but from the blood itself.”

“Back up,” Dax leans in, bracing his forearms on the table. His brows are furrowed, lips twisted in confusion. “I understand him wanting an Alpha son, but why would he dismiss Idril so completely? If he were so sure he would father a child with all this power, what made him so sure the power didn’t simply come in a different package?”

Alberton’s shoulders rise and fall with a weary sigh. “Because Jonathan—and men like him—will never accept a reality where a woman could be capable of containing power. Only bearing it.”

Daxen’s frown deepens.

“He believes that women are vessels. Their only gift comes from their ability to pass power through them to whatever children they bear. We’re not talking about a stable man, son. Jonathan Varenthrall is a misogynist as much as he is a sadist and a psychopath. You can immediately accept that Idril would—and could—carry the power Jonathan sought, but to him… it was never a possibility worth entertaining. In fact, it was more of a cosmic insult than anything.”

Dax leans back in his chair, considering. “So… he punished Idril for being born female.”

“He didn’t just punish her,” Albertson snorts, but it’s clear he doesn’t find anything funny. “He ensured that every moment of every day she knew just how worthless she was. He set out to take any bit of confidence she may gain, and obliterate it before it could fully form. Every time he looked at her, it was a reminder that he wasn’t Chosen.”

Albertson coughs, swallowing repeatedly to try and work moisture into his mouth. He stares longingly at the whiskey decanter on the table, licking his dry lips.

Frustrated with myself, I reach over, snatch a glass, fill it with water, and set it in front of him. Before I turn away, I catch the look of gratitude on his face, but as far as I’m concerned, the old man can choke on his gratitude. I just don't want him dying of thirst before I hear the rest of what he has to say.

“He was angry with his Mate, but he loathed his daughter,” he says after taking a long sip of his drink. “I was her Doctor for years—hired off the books in what I’ve deduced was a precaution in case anything strange ever showed up in scans or blood draws. Jonathan was paranoid, even as a toddler. I didn’t know him well, but I was struggling after being ostracized by the scientific community for helping a young man who was having issues with his Designation.”

He waves the thought away. “That’s neither here nor there. Let’s just say I was looking for work, and while I may have been denied the ability to practice, I still had a well-known reputation as a geneticist. The money he offered me to take his daughter as a patient was substantial, so I said yes.”

He takes another sip of water, seeming more relaxed. Even his linen scent has mellowed into something calmer.

“I only saw him a few times before Idril Designated,” Albertson continues. “She came for yearly checkups, and was a normal, healthy child, if a bit underweight. That’s normal for pre-awakened Omegas, however. She was always very quiet, very shy. I had to really work to get her even to crack a smile, but I didn’t see her enough to catch on that something was wrong at home. I just always assumed she was a melancholy child, especially because her Mother was the same.”

“When Idril was around eleven, Jonathan asked to speak to me after one of her appointments. He told me his wife had a strange gene mutation that she wanted to know more about. He provided me with signed consent forms when I asked. I believed him. I had no reason not to.”

“What did you find?” Soren asks, finally speaking up. Albertson looks up from the spot he’s been staring at on the table and gives Soren a wan smile.

“That he was right. She did have a rare mutation. Many rare mutations. Her blood showed genetic markers I didn’t understand and couldn’t explain. Dormant sequencing that belonged to no known Species on the planet.”

Even now, his tone is awed as he recounts what he found. It's easy to see the renowned geneticist and once-famous doctor beneath the ragged clothing and roughed-up exterior.

“When I explained what I found, Varenthrall was elated. It was obvious that what I told him simply confirmed everything he thought. He asked me to—he wanted me to…” His face twists, and he spits out his next words, as if they taste foul on his tongue.