Raised From The Wild-Chapter 417: Meeting Of The Two Alphas

Prince Raquim took a cautious step back, his heart racing as he locked eyes with the unmistakable figure before him. Those striking blue eyes, sharp and intense, seemed to pierce through the haze of disbelief clouding his mind. How could it possibly be that Marx Skylar was standing there before him? He thought the man was lost forever, his mind swirling in confusion at the impossible sight.

"Oh, look who it is—the Crown Prince of Albanya. What a coincidence!" Marx drawled, his tone dripping with indifference. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he casually leaned against the wall, his hands inside his pockets. His eyes slid over the prince with a mix of feigned surprise, and the air thickened with underlying tension.

""Marx Skylar?" Princes Raquim inquired hesitantly, his voice barely rising above a whisper, uncertainty etched across his brow.

"Yes, it is indeed me," Marx replied, his voice flat and unbothered. He regarded the other person with the same steady gaze he had held two years ago, the corners of his mouth barely lifting in a hint of a smile. "I don’t believe my appearance has altered much from two years ago." 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

"You vanished for two long years, leaving everyone believing that you had perished in that terrible fall." Prince Raquim, having regained his poise, stood tall, his spine straight and regal as he addressed Marx. His voice carried a weight of authority befitting his royal status, reproach evident in his tone.

He and Marx were not close. He did not care a damn about him. The only thing they had in common was Princess Amaya.

"As you can see, I am still alive and not dead," Marx declared, his voice steady and unyielding. He paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the man standing before him. The man’s imposing figure matched his height, creating an equal stance between them.

Marx continued with a hint of possessiveness, "I understand your intentions all too well. Princess Amaya is my girlfriend, and I advise you to keep your distance from her." His tone was firm, revealing no concern for the title or status the man held; he remained resolute, unwilling to back down.

Prince Raquim clenched his fists, the muscles in his arms tightening with barely contained fury. ’What an arrogant man!’ he exclaimed, his voice laced with disdain. ’He doesn’t even have the decency to show respect.’ The frustration simmered within him, his irritation growing by the minute.

"You disappeared for a whole two years. What kind of boyfriend does that? Where were you when she faced relentless bullying at Chaneya a year and a half ago? And what about the terrifying incident two months later when she was nearly kidnapped at the orphanage in Ra-Iya? Your absence during those difficult times showed you are an unreliable boyfriend."

Marx’s eyes momentarily glimmered with guilt. He was sick at the time and had lost his memories, but he was confident that he had arranged for people to protect her. There were Vasquez, Julienne, and the other secret guards.

"I dispatched a team to ensure her safety," Marx said with a dismissive snort, his confidence evident in his tone.

"Perhaps your people grew complacent, believing you were gone for good. I was the one who shielded her when she faced peril, standing as her guardian in times of threat. I was the one who walked beside her, providing the protection she required when she felt vulnerable and alone. You can’t just reappear in her life after abandoning her for two long years."

Marx shot a fierce glare at Prince Raquim, his eyes narrowing in fury. Could the prince truly think he could safeguard Amaya on his own, without the covert guards lurking in the shadows, clearing dangers secretly? The tension between them crackled in the air as Marx’s anger consumed him.

"But I am re-entering her life now—what do you plan to do about it?" Marx said, fixing the prince with a look that dripped with condescension.

"Very well, then. Let us see who Princess Amaya chooses," Prince Raquim said, his voice steady and assured, concealing the tumult of emotions swirling within him. His eyes glinted with determination, masking the insecurity that lay just beneath the surface.

Marx furrowed his brow, irritation flickering in his eyes as he caught sight of Raquim’s self-satisfied smirk. A wave of unease washed over him as he pondered the implications—had Amaya truly begun to harbor feelings for the charming but roguish prince of Albanya? The thought stirred a complex mix of jealousy and concern within him, casting a shadow over his thoughts.

Two years... had it truly been that long? Has Amaya’s feelings for him changed? She had forgotten to send a message to him earlier.

Prince Raquim, with his striking presence, was undeniably handsome. His raven-black hair framed his chiseled features, while his deep, dark eyes seemed to hold the mysteries of the night, captivating anyone who dared to meet his gaze. His wheat-colored skin glowed with an allure that enchanted many. In Usturia, women would go to great lengths, spinning tales and weaving dreams, all in hopes of sharing a fleeting moment in his bed. And then there was the weight of his status—he was a royal, an emblem of power and privilege, drawing attention like a moth to a flame.

Marx felt an unsettling pang in his gut, a flicker of anxiety surfacing beneath the cool facade he carefully maintained. His expression remained a stoic mask, betraying none of the turmoil within. "Then, let us see," he said, his voice steady yet tinged with an underlying tension. With big strides, he brushed past Prince Raquim, the air thick with unspoken words, and made his way toward the restroom; the sound of his footsteps echoed in the corridor.

"Prince, you are back." Princess Amaya was drinking tea with Tamara when she noticed someone standing at the entrance of the tea room. "Have you met Marx outside?" she asked cheerfully, not noticing Prince Raquim’s shift in expression.

Prince Rauquim breathed deeply, and a doting smile appeared on his face.

Yes, I did, Princess Amaya," he replied with a soothing tone, his voice like honey poured over silk. He settled onto the cushioned seat beside her, his royal attire rusling. "We had a meaningful conversation."