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👑 My inheritance returns in one month. That’s why the people who raised me suddenly want me dead. Training Traci’s POV “Traci, you need to rest. You’re pushing too hard.” Corbin’s voice cut through the sharp morning air while I drove my fist into the padded target again. Sweat slid down my spine despite the cool breeze rolling through the clearing behind the old patrol cabins. “I’m fine,” I muttered, throwing another punch. The target jerked backward. Corbin caught it before it toppled over completely and shot me a flat look. “That response right there tells me you are absolutely not fine.” “Funny. I thought the dark circles and emotional damage gave it away first.” His mouth twitched like he was fighting a grin. “Traci,” he warned. “But Corbin, you know how important this is to me.” I stepped back long enough to grab the towel hanging from the fence post beside me. “For my survival. Out of everyone in this pack, you understand that better than anybody.” “Yes,” he replied calmly, folding his arms over his chest. “And because I understand, I also know you’re useless if you collapse face-first in the dirt.” “That only happened once,” I huffed out as I continued. “It happened yesterday.” I pointed at him. “Technically, I landed with dignity.” “You passed out beside a tree and scared three patrol wolves.” “I call that dramatic flair.” A laugh escaped him before he shook his head. “You are impossible.” “And yet here you are. Every morning. Still training me.” “That’s because somebody has to keep you alive.” Before I could answer, another voice drifted toward us. “Corbin, honey, I brought you two breakfast and coffee.” Marge appeared through the trees carrying a tray loaded with steaming cups and wrapped sandwiches. The woman had the supernatural ability to look put together at six in the morning while I looked like I’d crawled out of a battlefield. Honestly, maybe I had. “Thank the Moon Goddess,” Corbin breathed dramatically. “I was two minutes away from starvation.” “You ate an hour ago,” Marge said. “That was emotional support food. Entirely different category.” She rolled her eyes and handed him a coffee before walking toward me. “Traci, sit down before you fall down.” “I’m not….” I started to say before I got interrupted. “Don’t argue with me. I raised three boys. I survived that. You don’t scare me.” I smirked despite myself and finally dropped onto the old wooden bench near the training ring. Before I get ahead of myself, let me explain. I’m Traci Silver. Born into the Silver Clan Pack as the daughter of two alphas. My father ruled this territory with strength. My mother ruled it with intelligence sharp enough to make grown warriors nervous. Together, they were unstoppable. Until the rogues killed them. I was twelve when everything burned down around me. One night changed my entire life. One night turned me from future alpha into unwanted burden. I was their only child. The rightful heir to the Silver Clan. Everyone knew it. The laws knew it. The elders knew it. But laws stopped mattering after funerals. Ralph stepped in immediately after my parents died. He told everyone he was only taking temporary control until I came of age. Said he wanted stability for the pack. People believed him. Maybe some genuinely wanted to. Others were simply too afraid not to. Back then, I still lived on the alpha floor of the packhouse. I still had my own room. My own things. My own future. That lasted less than a week. Ralph moved his family into the alpha wing and shoved me into the attic like unwanted storage. “There just isn’t enough room,” he’d told me while his sons carried my belongings upstairs in garbage bags. Funny how there was enough room for his giant ego though. The attic became my prison after that. Cold winters. Leaking ceilings. Broken windows patched with cardboard. I lost everything the day my parents died. Not only them. Everything. Friends stopped speaking to me. Some out of fear. Others because cruelty spreads fast when powerful people allow it. I was bullied constantly. Starved when Ralph’s mate decided I “hadn’t earned dinner.” Beaten whenever one of his children blamed me for something. Locked in the dungeon for days at a time over offenses I didn’t commit. At thirteen, Ralph stripped me of my alpha title publicly and labeled me omega instead. The humiliation wasn’t accidental. He wanted the pack to see me beneath them. Weak. Broken. Forgettable. Unfortunately for him, hatred is excellent motivation. I survived five years under that roof. Five years of pretending I wasn’t counting every single day until freedom. Because my parents planned ahead. That part still makes me smile. My inheritance legally transfers to me at eighteen. Not Ralph. Not his children. Me. My parents owned land, businesses, accounts worth more money than Ralph could dream of touching. He tried anyway, of course. Filed petitions claiming he needed access to care for me. The courts denied him every time. Watching him fail became one of my favorite hobbies. Only one month remained before everything returned to me. One month before I could finally leave this nightmare behind forever. Which brings us to the competition. Every year, elite warriors from surrounding packs compete for rank, recognition, and positions within the king’s army. This year, Ralph signed me up himself. That alone told me something was wrong. Corbin sat beside me on the bench, unwrapping his sandwich while Marge sipped her coffee quietly. “So,” Marge finally said, “do we know what Alpha Ralph is planning yet?” “I’m still piecing it together,” Corbin answered. “But he’s absolutely planning something.” “No kidding,” I muttered. Corbin glanced toward me. “He entered you into a tournament filled with trained killers while believing you barely know how to throw a punch. That man is counting on public failure.” I leaned back with a smirk. “That’s where things get interesting.” Marge smiled slowly. “Because he has no idea who he actually signed up.” Exactly. See, Ralph thinks neglect made me weak. He never realized people were helping me behind his back. Not everyone abandoned me after my parents died. Some warriors still honored them. Some still believed I was the rightful alpha. Corbin was one of them. So was Marge. And Sarah…my best friend since childhood. She never left my side even after her parents forbade her from speaking to me. Corbin started training me in secret when I was twelve. At first, it was simple self-defense. Then endurance. Combat. Weapons. Strategy. By fourteen, I was running border patrols with trusted warriors under darkness so nobody would report it back to Ralph. I fought rogues before most teenagers learned pack politics. I learned how to survive while everyone else learned how to socialize. Corbin took another drink of coffee before pointing toward the sparring circle. “You know what your biggest problem is?” “My sparkling personality intimidates people?” “You get sarcastic every time you’re nervous.” “I don’t get nervous.” “You sharpened three knives during breakfast yesterday.” “That means nothing.” “You were eating pancakes.” Marge laughed into her cup while I glared at him. Traitor. Corbin’s expression softened after a moment. “Listen carefully, Traci. Ralph expects humiliation. He expects you to lose publicly so he can paint you as incapable before your inheritance transfers.” “I know.” “What he doesn’t know,” Marge added gently, “is that you survived things most people wouldn’t.” Silence settled over us briefly. The wind rustled through the trees surrounding the clearing. My body ached from training. Old scars burned beneath my sleeves. One month. Just one more month. Then nobody would ever control me again. Corbin stood and tossed me my practice blade. “Alright,” he said with a grin. “Enough emotional bonding for today. Try not to stab me this time.” I caught the blade easily and stood. “No promises.” Marge sighed dramatically. “If either of you bleed on my breakfast table later, I’m divorcing both of you.” Corbin blinked. “Pretty sure that’s not how marriage works.” “It does in my house.” I laughed for real that time. And for the first time in years, freedom didn’t feel impossible anymore. Find Her Ralph’s POV “So Travis, the elite warrior tournament is in two weeks. Tell me something useful for once. Did you get in contact with them?” I asked while leaning back in my chair, swirling bourbon through the crystal glass like I didn’t already know the answer. My beta stood across from the desk with that smug look he always wore whenever violence was involved. Travis enjoyed his work far too much, but honestly, that was exactly why I kept him around. “Yes, Alpha. Everything’s arranged. She won’t survive the event, sir.” A slow grin pulled across my face. Finally. After years of waiting. Years of pretending. Years of watching that pathetic excuse for a wolf breathe air she didn’t deserve. Traci’s end was finally within reach. “Good,” I muttered, rubbing my palms together. “And her name’s officially on the roster?” “Yes, Alpha. Registered and approved.” I let out a satisfied hum before taking a long sip of bourbon. Expensive. Smooth. Aged properly unlike half the idiots in this pack. “Perfect. Once she’s gone, everything falls into place.” Travis nodded once. “The rogues requested half payment beforehand. Remaining balance gets transferred once the job is complete. Should I handle it?” I laughed under my breath. “Of course. What else would you be doing? Organizing flower arrangements?” His mouth twitched with amusement. “I’ll take care of it immediately.” “And Travis,” I added, setting my glass down carefully, “make sure she’s barely standing before the tournament even starts. I want her weak. Exhausted. Injured. By the time she steps into that arena, she shouldn’t have the strength to defend herself.” A dark gleam flashed in his eyes. “Already working on it, Alpha.” That was the thing about Travis. The man heard cruelty and treated it like a hobby. “Excellent.” I grabbed the bourbon bottle again and poured another round for both of us. “To victory.” “To finally getting rid of a problem,” he corrected. Even better. Before I could answer, the office doors slammed open hard enough to rattle the walls. “Daddy!” I sighed immediately. Darci stormed inside dramatically, blonde curls bouncing while tears threatened her eyes like she’d suffered some tragic injustice instead of a mild inconvenience. “Sunshine,” I said patiently, “you do realize doors exist for opening normally, correct? What happened now?” “That wench disappeared!” she snapped, stomping her foot. “My laundry isn’t done, breakfast wasn’t made, my room’s still dirty, and she’s nowhere in the packhouse.” Ah. So Traci had inconvenienced my daughter. That alone deserved punishment. Darci crossed her arms with an offended pout. “I had to look for clothes myself. It was honestly traumatizing.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. How brave of her. “Beta Travis,” I barked. He straightened instantly. “Find Traci. Now. Then remind her exactly what happens when she neglects responsibilities.” “Yes, Alpha.” Darci huffed dramatically. “All my outfits are dirty. I have absolutely nothing to wear.” I glanced toward her overflowing closet mentally filled with enough designer gowns to clothe half the kingdom. “Truly devastating,” I deadpanned. She ignored the sarcasm entirely. “And I’m starving.” “Of course you are.” “I could’ve fainted.” “Yet somehow you survived long enough to complain about it.” Travis coughed into his fist to hide a laugh. Darci glared at him. I held back my own amusement before reaching into the desk drawer and tossing her my black credit card. “Go shopping. Take guards with you.” Her entire mood shifted instantly. “Thank you, Daddy!” She snatched the card like it might disappear before the office doors opened again. My mate Serena stepped inside gracefully, elegant as always in a fitted crimson dress that hugged every curve perfectly. Unlike Darci, Serena understood how power worked. She wore confidence naturally. “Well,” she mused while kissing my cheek softly, “someone sounds dramatic.” “Traci failed her chores,” Darci answered instantly. Serena gasped theatrically. “How ever shall we survive?” Darci rolled her eyes. “Momma.” My mate smiled before turning serious. “The tournament’s close,” she said. “You’ll need new gowns anyway. Every important family in the kingdom will attend, including the kings.” Darci’s entire expression brightened again. “Oooh,” she squealed. “What if one of them’s my mate?” I nearly choked on bourbon. Serena smirked. “Then you better look unforgettable.” “And if they’re not,” Darci said arrogantly while flipping her hair over one shoulder, “they’ll still want me.” That confidence definitely came from Serena. Possibly the attitude too. “Go,” my mate laughed. “Before every decent boutique gets picked clean.” Darci hurried out excitedly, already talking through the mindlink with friends about dresses and jewelry. The moment the doors shut, Serena turned toward me. “Tell me honestly,” she said quietly. “Is everything truly arranged?” I stood from my chair slowly and walked toward the massive office windows overlooking the pack grounds. “Yes.” “The Rogue King accepted?” She asked with one brow raised. “He’s sending elite fighters personally.” “And Darren?” I smirked coldly. “Alpha Darren pledged support as well. Several warriors from Dancing River will enter the competition. Between rogues and Darren’s men, Traci won’t survive long enough to become a problem.” Serena finally relaxed. “My Alpha,” she purred softly while walking closer. Her fingers slid along my chest before she settled onto my lap. “You’re certain?” I brushed my hand across her thigh lazily. “Completely.” “And what exactly should I worry about then?” “Nothing besides me.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “And how may I please my Alpha?” Before she could continue, Travis’ voice slammed through the mindlink. “Alpha.” I closed my eyes slowly. “This better matter,” I growled. “It does. I found Traci.” Immediately interested, I leaned back slightly. “Where?” “Outside. Walking around the packhouse like she didn’t have responsibilities.” My jaw tightened. Walking. While my daughter searched for clean clothes. The audacity. “I’m taking her to the dungeon now,” Travis continued. “Thought you’d appreciate hearing that personally.” A cruel smile spread across my face. “Oh, I absolutely do.” Serena shifted against me, listening carefully. “Use silver,” I ordered coldly. “Wolfsbane too if necessary. I want permanent damage this time. Make sure she suffers.” “Yes, Alpha.” “And Travis?” “Yes sir?” “Don’t disappoint me.” The link closed. Serena tilted her head slightly. “Dungeon?” I nodded once. “Traci apparently forgot her place.” A pleased hum left my mate’s throat. “Good. Later today I’ll find another excuse to discipline her myself.” “Make it memorable.” Serena smiled beautifully. “Oh, trust me,” she whispered. “I fully intend to.” A Problem Traci’s POV By the time Calvin and I finished training the sky had barely started turning gray. Dawn stretched across the mountains in thin streaks while cold mist clung to the training field like it refused to let go of the night. Sweat dampened the back of my shirt, my muscles screamed from exhaustion, and my lungs still burned from the drills Calvin insisted would “keep me alive longer.” Such a comforting statement before sunrise. Training at four in the morning had become routine months ago. It was the only way I could survive both worlds. Calvin pushed me through combat before anyone woke up, then I rushed back to the pack house to become everybody’s favorite servant by seven. Lucky me. Breakfast had to be started before most of the pack even rolled out of bed. Eggs, biscuits, bacon, fruit, coffee. Endless coffee. Wolves acted like caffeine was some sacred gift from the Moon Goddess herself. If the pot went empty for more than thirty seconds people started acting like civilization had collapsed. After breakfast was served and the kitchen cleaned, I handled the upstairs chores. Darcy’s room first. Always Darcy’s room. Hers looked like a tornado married a shopping addiction and decided to raise children together. Clothes everywhere. Toys under every surface. Half-eaten snacks shoved into drawers like hidden treasure. Her sons, Edward, Alvin, and Aaron, somehow made even more mess than she did. Then came the Alpha and Luna’s suite. Bigger room. Bigger ego. Same filth. By the time I finished scrubbing floors and hauling laundry downstairs my body already felt heavy. Yesterday’s bruises still covered my ribs beneath my shirt, dark purple fading into sickly yellow. Every movement pulled at sore skin that never fully healed anymore. I thanked Corbin and Marge after training cleanup and hurried outside toward the pack house again. The sun had barely risen over the trees. I wasn’t late. Not even close. Which was exactly why my stomach dropped the second Beta Travis stepped directly into my path. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who finally decided to show up.” Before I could answer, his hand clamped around my arm hard enough to bruise. “Traci, where have you been? You haven’t done a damn thing you were supposed to do.” His fingers dug deeper into my skin while he yanked me forward. “Beta Travis,” I started carefully, “I was only taking a quick walk before chores…” “You have not cleaned the rooms. Breakfast should’ve already been handled. Maybe you need a lesson.” The smirk on his face made my stomach twist. I tried explaining again. Told him it wasn’t even time yet. Told him I had been heading there now. Didn’t matter. Talking to Travis was like arguing with a brick wall if the brick wall had anger issues and smelled like whiskey. He dragged me across the yard while pack members avoided looking at us. Nobody intervened. Nobody ever intervened. The second we reached the dungeon entrance cold dread crawled down my spine. Wonderful. Exactly how I wanted to start my morning. Stone steps echoed beneath our feet as he hauled me downward. Damp air wrapped around me instantly, thick with mildew, rust, and old blood. Soft lights flickered against the walls casting ugly shadows across iron cages. I knew better than to fight. I couldn’t reveal my strength. Not yet. “You’re going to learn your place one way or another,” Travis sneered. He grabbed a silver-tipped whip from the wall. My pulse stuttered. Silver. Of course it had silver. Because apparently basic torture wasn’t dramatic enough. He chained my wrists above my head before I could brace myself. The metal bit into my skin while icy panic crept through my chest. Then the first strike landed. Pain exploded across my back so violently my breath vanished. The second cut deeper. The third nearly dropped me. By the fifth lash my vision blurred. Silver burned through flesh like acid, tearing into skin while agony rippled through my entire body. Blood soaked down my spine. My knees buckled repeatedly but the chains held me upright. Somewhere during the beating I blacked out. More than once. I remembered waking briefly to another strike before darkness swallowed me again. Normally wolves healed injuries quickly. Normally. Except I still didn’t have mine. Double alpha blood should’ve triggered my wolf at fourteen. Regular wolves shifted at sixteen. Yet here I was at seventeen with nothing except silence where my wolf should’ve been. No healing. No strength. No protection. Just pain. “Get up, you worthless wench.” His boot slammed into my side. I gasped sharply while another wave of agony shot through my ribs. He unchained my wrists roughly and I collapsed onto the floor before forcing myself upward. My arms trembled violently. Blood dripped from the corner of my mouth as I wiped it away with shaky fingers. “You have chores to finish,” he barked. “Move.” I stumbled getting to my feet. Honestly, passing out sounded like the better option. When I accidentally looked toward him his expression darkened instantly. “You piece of trash,” he snarled. “Don’t you dare look at me.” Funny. Considering he kept demanding my attention every five seconds. He grabbed my arm again and dragged me back toward the pack house. By the time we reached the kitchen I could barely breathe through the pain. Wilma turned from the stove and froze. “Oh, sweetheart…” Her face crumpled immediately. “What happened to you?” I swallowed hard trying not to cry. “I’m sorry I’m late,” I whispered. “Beta Travis stopped me.” “Oh hush.” Wilma guided me carefully into a chair. “Don’t apologize for somebody else’s cruelty.” She grabbed a rag and began cleaning blood from my face with gentle hands. Wilma had worked inside the pack house longer than half these people had been alive. She’d patched me together more times than I could count. “Here.” She pressed herbs into my palm. “Take these. They’ll dull some pain.” The kitchen door burst open seconds later. “What the hell, Traci?” Sarah stormed inside looking ready to commit several felonies. I managed a weak smile. “Hey, Sarah. I’m okay.” “You look half dead.” “Technically still alive though. So that’s something.” Her glare sharpened. “Just one more month,” I whispered quietly. “I can survive one more month.” Except deep down I wasn’t sure anymore. Each punishment got worse. Longer. Crueler. Sarah crossed her arms. “Sit there and rest. Breakfast is already handled. I’ll help with the rooms.” “You know they’ll punish you too.” She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please. At this point I’m already on their dislike list. Might as well earn it.” Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped me. Then her expression hardened. “They’re going to pay for this someday.” After breakfast I forced myself upstairs. Every step sent pain slicing across my back. By the time I reached Darcy’s room sweat covered my forehead. I paused outside the partially open door when I heard laughing inside. “You should’ve seen it,” Darcy giggled. “After I complained about Traci, Dad punished her immediately. Didn’t even bother checking the time.” Shelby laughed with her. “That stupid bitch deserves it.” My stomach twisted. Darcy continued, voice dripping with excitement. “Dad said she’ll finally be finished at the tournament.” Silence slammed into my chest. “Omg, seriously?” Shelby gasped. Darcy laughed again. “Everything’s arranged. Her fights are set up. Fight to the death.” The world tilted slightly beneath me. Blood rushed loudly through my ears. I backed away from the doorway too fast and nearly lost my balance. My shoulder slammed against the wall while panic clawed through my chest. Fight to the death. This wasn’t punishment anymore. They planned to kill me. I stumbled into the nearby restroom and splashed cold water across my face with trembling hands. “Sarah,” I mindlinked shakily. “Sarah, I know their plan.” Fear surged through our bond instantly. Then I reached out again. “Corbin,” I whispered through the link, staring at my pale reflection. “We have a problem.” Should Be Fun Raiden’s POV The steady scratching of my pen against paper filled the office while morning sunlight spilled through the towering windows behind me. Stacks of reports covered nearly every inch of my desk. Territory disputes. Border patrol updates. Financial summaries. Supply inventories. Apparently being a king meant eighty percent paperwork and twenty percent threatening people until they acted right. A truly inspiring lifestyle. I leaned back slightly in my chair and rubbed a hand across my jaw while flipping through another report. My office overlooked the eastern side of the palace grounds where warriors trained from sunrise until dark. Even from here I could hear distant impacts from sparring matches along with occasional shouting. At least somebody around here was enjoying themselves. The door opened without warning. “Raiden.” I looked up to find Kael walking inside carrying a thick black folder beneath his arm. My beta shut the door behind him before tossing the paperwork onto my desk. “Here’s the lineup and registration files for the warrior tournament,” he said. “Date’s officially locked for two weeks from now. Rings and mats are already being inspected. We’ve got our elite fighters handling security and referee positions.” I grabbed the folder immediately. “Thank you.” I flipped it open while scanning the first few pages. “Did you look over the contestants yet?” “Briefly.” Kael dropped into the chair across from me. “Turnout looks bigger compared to last year. A lot bigger.” “That’s already an improvement.” I snorted. “Last year half the competitors fought like drunk toddlers.” Kael smirked. “One competitor cried because somebody broke his nose.” “He entered a combat tournament,” I sighed as I shook my head. “He said it was excessive violence.” I stared at him flatly. Kael lifted both hands innocently. “I’m just repeating the complaint.” “Remind me again why wolves became so soft,” I rolled my eyes so hard I think they almost got stuck. “Social media probably.” A laugh escaped me despite myself while I continued looking through the files. The yearly warrior competition was one of the largest events in the kingdom. Packs traveled from every territory to compete for recognition, rank, wealth, status, and sometimes simple pride. Strong alphas loved proving dominance. Betas treated the entire thing like a personal challenge from the Moon Goddess herself. Honestly, half these idiots would probably fistfight over breathing rights if given the opportunity. Still, the tournament served a larger purpose. The strongest competitors caught our attention. Exceptional warriors earned positions within the royal guard. Others joined the royal army depending on skill level, temperament, and whether they could follow orders without behaving like oversized hormonal teenagers. Which eliminated a surprising amount of candidates. I flipped another page and paused briefly. Several names lacked pack affiliation entirely. Interesting. “That’s odd,” I muttered. Kael leaned forward slightly. “What?” “There are multiple contestants without pack names listed.” “That happen often?” “Rarely.” My eyes narrowed while reading another file. “Most wolves advertise their pack like it’s a personality trait.” “No lies detected.” I kept reading while mentally sorting through the registrations. Warriors from northern territories. Eastern mountain packs. Coastal regions. Rogue fighters. Ranked heirs. Several alphas personally entering this year. The prize pool probably explained the insane turnout. First place winners received one million dollars toward equipment, infrastructure, defenses, and upgrades for their territory. An additional hundred thousand went directly to the champion. That kind of money made people stupid. Correction. Stupider. “More referees was definitely the right decision,” Kael said while grabbing one of the files. “Anybody can sneak dirty tricks into early rounds. Final matches should only hold legitimate winners.” “Exactly.” I nodded once. “Too many complaints last year about rigged fights.” Kael barked out a laugh. “Complaints? One alpha accused another competitor of poisoning his aura.” I slowly lowered the papers. “His aura.” “Direct quote.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I hate people.” “No you don’t,” he smiled widely. “I tolerate roughly four individuals daily,” I said as I nodded my head once. “You’re growing emotionally.” “Don’t start.” Kael grinned shamelessly while I continued reading. The tournament brackets were separated by rank, age, and combat specialization. Close-range fighters. Weapons divisions. Team battles. Elite challenges. Several new additions had been implemented this year including harsher elimination requirements and expanded referee oversight. Which absolutely meant someone would complain. Probably loudly. “Send updated memos to every pack by tonight,” I ordered while shutting the folder. “Include every rule change and regulation adjustment. I want confirmation receipts from each territory.” Kael groaned dramatically. “Wonderful. Nothing brightens my day quite like angry emails from offended alphas.” I leaned back in my chair. “If they complain beforehand they can’t cry later.” “With respect, Raiden, they cry over paper cuts,” he sighed as he shook his head. “That’s because some of them share one collective brain cell.” “Generous estimate.” I smirked slightly. Kael stood from the chair and stretched his arms overhead. “Gym renovations finished early this morning, by the way.” “Already?” “Shockingly, yes. Nobody died during construction either. Very successful week,” he bragged. “Miracles truly exist.” Truthfully, the upgrades had been overdue for years. Expanded combat rings. Reinforced flooring. Improved sparring equipment. Observation platforms. Additional weight areas. Medical stations. Better security around underground training sectors. If warriors planned on beating each other unconscious, they could at least do it somewhere decent. “Have you checked everything personally?” I asked. “Not yet. I came straight here after collecting tournament confirmations.” I shoved back from my desk and stood. “Then let’s go look.” Kael grabbed the folder while I shrugged on my jacket and headed toward the office doors. The palace corridors buzzed with movement as servants crossed between hallways carrying supplies while guards rotated positions near the staircases. Most people stepped aside quickly once they noticed us approaching. The palace itself stretched across multiple wings connected through open archways and stone corridors lined with dark wood paneling. Tall windows overlooked the training grounds outside where dozens of warriors sparred beneath the morning sun. “You know,” Kael said casually beside me, “the gym staff looked nervous about your inspection.” “They should.” “You enjoy intimidating people far too much.” “I enjoy competence.” “You threatened a contractor because a wall was crooked.” “The wall was offensive.” Kael shook his head while laughing quietly. “One day somebody’s going to humble you.” “That sounds fake.” Before he could answer a loud crash echoed from the nearby sitting room followed by shouting. Kael immediately stiffened beside me. I stopped walking. Another voice rang out. Then something shattered. “Well,” Onyx drawled lazily, “that definitely sounds illegal.” I ignored him. Mostly because he was probably right. Kael already reached for the dagger hidden beneath his jacket while I pushed open the double doors leading toward the sitting area. The second we stepped inside chaos greeted us. A young servant stood frozen beside an overturned table while two warriors argued near the fireplace. One of them had blood dripping from his nose. The other looked seconds away from launching himself across the room. Several guards hovered nearby unsure whether to intervene. Amazing. I left my office for ten minutes. Ten. “Tell me,” I said coldly while stepping farther inside, “why it suddenly looks like a tavern brawl exploded in my palace.” The entire room went silent instantly. Onyx snorted. “Oh this should be fun.” My Brother Zayden’s POV People hear the words Alpha King and immediately imagine some noble male standing on a balcony giving inspirational speeches while dramatic wind blows through his hair. Absolute bullshit. Most days consisted of paperwork, meetings, threats disguised as diplomacy, and elders breathing down my neck about responsibility. So much responsibility. Apparently the kingdom would collapse if I skipped one council meeting. Tragic. My brother Raiden thrived in leadership. The male was practically born wearing a crown. Calm under pressure. Ruthless when needed. Strategic all the time. Packs respected him because he carried himself like power wrapped in patience. Me? I preferred chaos. Not reckless chaos. Controlled chaos. There was a difference. Barely. Raiden and I took over the Silver Moon Kingdom when we were sixteen after our parents died suddenly in their sleep. Poisoned. Clean. Quiet. Cowardly. Nobody was ever caught. Trust me, we searched. Every servant, guard, healer, advisor, elder, and visiting alpha got investigated. Several people disappeared afterward. One traitor lost a hand. Another ended up hanging from the southern border wall as a warning. Still didn’t bring our parents back. The kingdom nearly tore itself apart after their deaths. Since we were underage, several packs viewed us as weak targets. Rebellions started within days. Challenges followed immediately after. Nothing says welcome to adulthood like attempted murder. Our childhood disappeared overnight. Training had prepared us to rule eventually. From the time we could walk, our schedules revolved around combat, leadership studies, diplomacy, history, battle strategy, politics, and survival. Every lesson drilled into us with one purpose. Become kings. Just preferably not before eighteen. The Moon Goddess apparently had other plans. While other teenagers snuck out to parties, my brother and I sat in war meetings deciding which packs needed reinforcement and which alphas deserved public humiliation. Good times. Some territories still tested us even now. Not openly anymore because that usually ended badly for them, but smaller acts of disrespect still surfaced occasionally. Border violations. Hidden alliances. Quiet resistance. People loved underestimating younger rulers. Then acted shocked when we crushed them. I leaned back against the leather chair inside my chambers and stared out the massive window overlooking the kingdom grounds below. Warriors trained across the lower courtyards while staff rushed between buildings carrying supplies for the upcoming tournament. The event was already turning the palace upside down. Preparations flooded every hallway. Fighters arriving early. Arena inspections. Merchants setting up shops. Elders pretending they understood combat. Honestly, somebody needed to ban old politicians from giving warrior advice forever. One elder suggested “less violent matches” last year. At a fighting tournament. I still questioned how he survived this long. “You’re brooding again,” Onyx muttered lazily. I rolled my eyes. “I’m thinking.” “Dangerous activity for you,” Onyx smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Careful. I can replace you.” “No you can’t. I’m the entertaining one. Sarcastic little bastard. Raiden got silence and wisdom from his wolf while mine acted like a drunken comedian trapped inside my skull twenty-four hours a day. “Besides,” Onyx continued smugly, “you only look dramatic because you’re staring out a window.” “I hate you,” I rolled my eyes dramatically. “You adore me.” Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. A knock sounded against my chamber doors before Kael stepped inside carrying several folders beneath one arm. Unlike most people around the palace, Kael never looked intimidated walking into royal rooms. Probably because he grew up with us. He’d seen Raiden and me bloody, exhausted, furious, reckless, and occasionally unconscious. Real bonding experiences. “There you are,” Kael said. “The elders are searching for both of you.” I groaned immediately. “Why.” He grinned. “Take a wild guess.” “Heirs,” I groaned as I dropped my head back dramatically against the chair. The elders had become absolutely unbearable lately. Raiden and I turned twenty-five in two weeks which apparently meant the kingdom might implode if we didn’t produce children immediately. Every council meeting somehow circled back toward legacy, bloodlines, succession, or future rulers. As if children magically appeared because elderly wolves nagged aggressively enough. “They cornered me during breakfast,” Kael continued while laughing. “One asked if you planned on settling down soon.” “And?” “I told him your greatest emotional commitment currently involves training daggers.” Reasonable answer honestly. The pressure surrounding mates only worsened with age. Fated bonds were sacred among our kind. Unbreakable. Powerful. Most wolves found theirs early. Raiden and I hadn’t. At eighteen I waited patiently, convinced my mate would appear eventually. Nineteen came and went. Then twenty. After that I stopped expecting destiny to work on my schedule. So I enjoyed myself instead. Unlike my brother. Raiden remained painfully loyal to a woman he hadn’t even met yet. The male refused relationships entirely. No touching. No sleeping around. No interest whatsoever. Honestly concerning behavior. “You know your brother nearly murdered Elder Vincent yesterday,” Kael said casually. I blinked. “What did Vincent do now?” “Suggested one of the Waiting Ladies might make a suitable chosen Luna.” I barked out a laugh instantly. Yep. That would do it. The elders selected fifteen women over the last several years and moved them into the palace hoping either Raiden or I would eventually choose one as a mate. They called them Waiting Ladies. Raiden called them whores. To their faces sometimes. Personally, I viewed them differently. Most came from powerful families wanting influence near the throne. Several openly competed for attention. Others genuinely hoped for a crown someday. Couldn’t blame them honestly. Being queen came with luxury, power, influence, wealth, and status beyond imagination. Still not happening. I fooled around occasionally. Nothing serious. Nothing emotional. Just temporary distractions with clear boundaries. The women understood exactly what it was. A… Release. Nothing more. Because despite our differences, Raiden and I agreed completely on one thing. We would never accept chosen mates. Never. The Moon Goddess created fated bonds for a reason. Our true mate would stand beside us as Luna Queen or nobody would. Simple. “Well,” Onyx mused thoughtfully, “hopefully she arrives soon because the elders are one conversation away from arranging a breeding schedule.” I nearly choked. Kael raised an eyebrow. “What.” “Nothing,” I coughed quickly. “Onyx said something stupid.” “Shocking.” “Oh shut up,” my wolf muttered. Kael tossed the folders onto the table beside me before crossing his arms. “You and Raiden better survive the next few weeks. Tournament preparations are already chaotic and the elders are acting feral over your birthday.” “Wonderful combination.” “No lies there,” he muttered. I stood from the chair and grabbed my jacket from nearby. “Where’s Raiden?” “In his office threatening somebody through email.” I smirked proudly. “That’s my brother.” We Will Handle It Raiden’s POV Rogue attacks across the kingdom had gotten worse every year. What once started as small raids along distant borders had evolved into organized assaults with strategy behind them. More warriors. Better timing. Stronger fighters. Somebody was building an army in the shadows, and whoever stood behind it had become bold enough to challenge the throne directly. Ever since Zayden and I became kings after our parents died, enemies had circled us like starving wolves smelling weakness. Some attacks came from rogues. Others came from packs pretending loyalty while quietly waiting for an opportunity to overthrow us. Cowards always preferred hiding behind alliances instead of facing us directly. The elders constantly shoved the same concern down our throats. Produce an heir. Secure the bloodline. Protect the kingdom. Because if somebody managed defeating both Zayden and me without heirs in place, the throne could fall into anybody’s hands. That alone was enough to make my patience disappear daily. Still, neither of us could force ourselves into taking chosen mates knowing our true mate existed somewhere in the world. The Moon Goddess created the bond for a reason. Besides, Zayden and I already knew how our bond would work. One mate. Shared between us. Twins born from the same bloodline often shared destiny in ways other wolves didn’t understand. Our mate would belong to both of us equally. Hopefully she wouldn’t try killing us after finding that information out. “You think too much,” Nyx muttered. “And you don’t think enough,” I bit back. “Balance,” he chuckled. I ignored him while running through the palace corridors toward the southern entrance. The second I cleared the doors, I shifted. Bones cracked violently beneath my skin while black fur burst across my body in seconds. My massive paws slammed into the ground as Nyx fully took control. As Alpha Kings, our wolves towered over regular alphas in size and strength. Nyx stood nearly double the height of most wolves with dark black fur that blended into the night itself. Power rolled beneath my skin immediately. “Zayden,” I linked sharply while sprinting through the forest. “Location.” Static crackled briefly before my beta answered. “Onyx and I are already here. Damn, brother, they came prepared tonight.” Trees blurred around us as Nyx pushed faster through the darkness. The scent hit us first. Blood. Silver. Death. By the time we reached the south border, bodies littered the ground across the battlefield. Torn earth stretched beneath claw marks and blood stains while growls echoed throughout the trees. Warriors fought everywhere beneath the moonlight. Rogues definitely weren’t playing around tonight. “Zayden,” I linked quickly. “Try keeping one or two alive. We need answers.” “Easier said than done,” my brother snapped back while fighting. “These idiots are suicidal.” A rogue launched toward one of our warriors only to get thrown sideways into a tree hard enough to crack the trunk. Nyx growled low. “Something smells wrong.” I slowed slightly. “What do you mean?” “Wolfsbane.” My eyes narrowed instantly. “Damn it.” Wolfsbane weakened wolves dramatically if inhaled or injected. Slowed healing. Suppressed strength. Too much exposure could stop a wolf from shifting entirely. Which meant this attack had planning behind it. I opened the pack link immediately. “Everyone listen carefully. Nyx smells wolfsbane. Stay alert for silver or other substances.” Zayden’s voice followed seconds later. “Fight cautiously. If wolfsbane is involved, silver probably is too.” Warriors answered quickly through the link while battle continued raging around us. Then three massive wolves stepped from the tree line directly ahead. “These aren’t normal rogues,” Nyx growled. He was right. The wolves stood far larger than average rogues with thick builds packed heavily with muscle. One pure brown. One gray. One black with scars stretching across his muzzle. Ranked fighters. Possibly elite. “Try capturing one alive,” I warned. Nyx lunged first. The brown wolf charged directly toward us with jaws open wide, but Nyx moved faster. Claws ripped across the rogue’s throat before sliding upward violently. Blood sprayed across the ground. The wolf’s head separated completely from his body. “Subtle,” Nyx muttered. Before we could recover, the gray wolf attacked from behind sinking teeth deep into our back leg. Pain exploded sharply through us. Nyx snarled viciously before twisting around and slamming the wolf sideways. Claws tore through flesh across his chest while ribs cracked beneath the force. One final swipe ripped directly through his chest. The rogue collapsed instantly. As Nyx held the wolf’s heart within his claws, the third rogue leaped from behind aiming directly for our neck. “Move!” Nyx barked. Too late. The rogue’s jaws nearly reached us before another massive black wolf collided into him midair. Onyx. Zayden’s wolf slammed into the rogue hard enough to send him crashing across the dirt before pinning him beneath massive paws. “You’re welcome,” Zayden linked smugly. “You couldn’t resist showing off.” “Somebody has to carry this family.” Nyx snorted loudly. “Honestly he might have a point.” Traitor. The rogue struggled violently beneath Onyx while snapping his jaws repeatedly. “Ryker,” Zayden barked through the link. “Silver chains. Now.” Several warriors rushed forward carrying restraints while the rogue continued fighting. “Damn,” I muttered while shifting back into human form. “Thanks, brother.” Zayden smirked while pulling on a pair of black pants handed over by a nearby warrior. “You’d die without me eventually.” The remaining rogues fell quickly after that. Within minutes the battlefield quieted except for injured warriors groaning nearby and chains rattling around captured rogues. Smoke drifted through the trees from scattered fires while healers rushed across the border checking injuries. Ryker approached us covered in blood and dirt. “What the hell was this?” I asked immediately. “Any idea who organized the attack?” “They hit all at once,” Ryker replied grimly. “Too coordinated for random rogues.” Zayden crossed his arms. “Did you notice anything unusual?” Ryker nodded once. “A mark. Several of them carried the same tattoo across their upper chest.” Nyx immediately stiffened. “What kind of mark?” I asked carefully. “Broken crown.” Silence settled heavily around us. Nyx growled low inside my head. “That belongs to the Rogue King.” My jaw tightened instantly. Every warrior in the kingdom knew stories surrounding the Rogue King. Most believed he was a myth created to scare young wolves into obedience. Unfortunately, myths usually didn’t leave piles of bodies behind. “They brand their fighters,” Nyx continued darkly. “Loyalty through fear.” “How many survived?” I asked Ryker. “Three.” “Good.” Zayden’s eyes darkened coldly. “Get them into silver restraints immediately.” Ryker nodded sharply. “We already started moving them toward the dungeons.” I glanced back toward the battlefield once more while unease settled heavily in my chest. This wasn’t some random border raid. This was a message. And somebody out there wanted the throne badly enough to start a war for it. “Get the prisoners secured,” I ordered coldly. “We’ll handle interrogations personally.”

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