Selena’s POV
“You’re not even his real blood, Anton. Stop weeping on my floor as if you’ve lost a birthright that never truly belonged to you.”
The words sliced through the suffocating silence of our royal quarters, sharp and dripping with absolute venom as I stood over the ruined, trembling form of the Alpha Heir. With my hands planted firmly on my hips, I glared down at him.
Flinching, his bloodshot eyes darted up to meet my ice-blue gaze. He clutched a half-empty crystal tumbler of amber liquor to his chest, looking completely pathetic. “Do not say that, Selena. I’m his son. I’m the Heir.”
“You’re a stray,” I hissed, stepping closer so the heavy silk of my silver gown brushed against his slumped knees. “Fenrir took you in out of pity twenty years ago when the Winter Fang pack was sl
