Chapter 7 The War Who....
1775 Words
Kieran’s POV
My head is pounding like a bass drum in the middle of war.
One minute I was face-down in velvet sheets, sweating out whatever toxic cocktail I let someone pour into my glass last night, and the next, I’m standing on scorched soil surrounded by the scent of blood, ash, and grief.
Welcome to the f*****g aftermath of rogue warfare.
We’re touring Wolf Fang Pack—one of the largest sovereign packs under our Western royal banner, and clearly the one on the brink of collapse.
I feel like s**t. Like if I blink too slow, I might just pass out standing up. My wolf, Brutus, is pissed at me for how I’ve been treating our body lately, and I get it. But there’s only so much pressure a guy can take before he breaks a little.
Jason's voice cuts through my haze like a blade.
He’s talking to the young Alpha—Raymond, I think his name is.
Kid’s steady. Serious. The complete opposite of his arrogant prick of a father, Alpha Philip, who clearly didn’t think twice about showing us just how disrespectful he could be. No bow. No greeting. Just stood there like his position made him invincible.
I don’t care how hungover I am—respect is still respect, and that bastard has none.
What makes it worse? The three banshee bitches clinging to us like we’re gods descended from the sky. I think they’re the Luna and Raymond’s sisters. Or concubines? Honestly, I don’t even want to know. Their giggles are like nails on a chalkboard, and if I catch one more hair flip or thirsty side-glance, I’m going to scream.
I lean back against a nearby tree, trying not to throw up, when Jason turns to Raymond and asks the one question that makes the whole pack fall silent:
“Can we see your wolf?”
Raymond doesn’t even hesitate.
“Of course.”
Meanwhile, Beta Reid turns to the trio of makeup-caked clowns and says:
“Did you ladies prepare lunch?”
The Luna w***e damn near purrs.
“Me or food?” she smirks, her eyes locked on him.
I raise an eyebrow.
Even Reid looks at her like she’s a bug he’s about to squash. Alpha Philip’s jaw tightens, and I can tell he’s pissed at her lack of decorum, but not pissed enough to actually correct her.
“Oops. Did I say that out loud?” she giggles, swaying her hips.
Dead silence.
We’re all staring at her like she just offered to strip in church. Eventually, she turns with a huff and says to the girls, “Come on girls. Let’s go get lunch.”
Good riddance.
Jason gestures for Raymond to continue, and we follow him into a clearing behind the training grounds.
Raymond kicks off his shoes, strips down to his boxers—dude’s jacked like he was carved out of stone—and then, he shifts.
And that’s when the world stops.
Before us stands a wolf unlike any I’ve ever seen.
Jet black fur that gleams under the sun. Golden, glowing eyes that look like they’ve seen a thousand battles. And a sharp patch of white fur dead center on his chest—like a painted emblem of war.
We all instinctively bow. Even my father Magnus does.
Because this isn't just any wolf.
This is Alex, the War General of Werewolves—the right hand of the Lycan War General, a legendary figure not seen in centuries.
Holy. s**t.
My mouth falls open. Brutus growls in my head—not out of fear, but out of recognition. This wolf commands respect down to the marrow.
This kid is royalty in his own right.
Jason steps forward, a rare light of shock and approval in his expression. Even he bows, then waits patiently as Raymond shifts back and quickly gets dressed behind a tree.
“Young Alpha,” Jason says, “do you even know who your wolf is?”
Raymond shrugs, tugging on his shirt.
“Yeah. I’m the next Alpha of this pack.”
Jason chuckles. Colin snorts.
“No,” Colin says. “Do you know who your wolf is?”
Raymond looks confused.
“Other than Alex? No.”
And that’s when I blurt out—unable to help myself:
“Didn’t you go to the Alpha Academy? You’re the one everyone whispers about. The King War General of Werewolves.”
He shakes his head.
“Never went. I stayed here to protect the pack.”
I glance at my father. Jason’s already turning toward him.
“Philip?”
Magnus answers before Philip can.
“It’s true. The boy never left. The old man wouldn’t let him.”
Jason’s jaw clenches. He turns back to Raymond with a new edge in his voice.
“Pack your things. You’re going to Alpha Academy. You’re a year behind, but you’ll catch up quick. I’ll make the call myself.”
Magnus steps forward, nodding with approval.
“And I’ll assign five Royal Guard Enforcers to stay here and maintain order.”
Philip looks like he’s been slapped.
Raymond stands still, trying to process it all. I extend my hand, as do Jason, my father, Reid, and Colin. He shakes each one, stunned but holding his composure like a true Alpha.
“While we eat,” Jason says, “you’ll have time to pack. I’ll handle the Dean.”
Jason smirks, glancing sideways at me.
“I can’t believe you’re the f*****g War General. Coral’s gonna lose her damn mind. She might even make me my favorite dessert tonight…”
He winks.
“Her.”
We all laugh.
The tension eases, the guards begin to fall back into formation, and we’re led toward the dining hall—leaving Alpha Philip standing behind us, watching his legacy slip through his fingers… and walk straight into greatness.
Third-Person POV
Alpha Philip barely held back a snarl as his son—Raymond—disappeared down the Alpha corridor with the royal delegation. The weight of the moment clung to the air like a noose tightening around his throat.
He wasn’t proud.
He was furious.
Raymond. That ungrateful, accidental pup—was just hailed by two Alpha Kings as the f*****g War General of Werewolves. A role passed down through ancient bloodlines, known only in myth and battle legends. And somehow, his son—his mistake—was the one bearing that title.
He hadn’t even known.
Now those kings—Jason and Magnus—had looked straight through him, a seasoned Alpha, as though he were nothing more than dust in the wind. They hadn’t even offered him a proper greeting.
Their eyes had been fixed only on Raymond.
The betrayal burned.
And if that wasn’t enough? If the Moon Goddess truly wanted to humiliate him, then she’d top it off with something even worse: if that boy ever found his fated mate, someone with rank, someone of power—he’d become completely unstoppable.
Philip’s stomach churned.
He wouldn’t allow it.
He’d never turn this pack over to Raymond. Not in this life or the next. The boy had been an error from the beginning—a product of lust and reckless ego, not destiny.
Yes, he was Philip’s son.
Yes, he was the child of his chosen mate, Sue.
But he was also the walking embodiment of Philip’s greatest failure.
The moment that ruined his life.
He thought back to the Alpha Ball years ago, hosted by King Magnus, the grandest event of that decade. That night, under a moonlit canopy and chandeliers of enchanted crystal, Philip had seen her—his fated mate.
Her name was Maeve. And even now, just thinking it made his chest twist.
She was divine.
A Fae-Lycan hybrid with light dancing in her silver-flecked eyes, Maeve carried royal blood, the granddaughter of the former Lycan King of the Northern Territories and niece to the current Lycan King, Titus.
The Moon Goddess had given him a gift from the heavens—a mate of status, magic, and fire. The moment their eyes locked, the bond was instantaneous.
She smiled.
And just as quickly… it was all shattered.
Sue had walked up behind him, hand resting on her slightly swollen stomach, and announced to the entire hall, “He’s mine. I’m carrying his child. We’re chosen mates.”
Philip had tried to deny her.
To push her away.
To make Maeve understand that this wasn’t what he wanted. That he hadn’t known. That he would fix it. That he loved her.
But Maeve only frowned, her soft expression hardening into steel.
“I don’t share,” she said. And then she rejected him.
On the spot.
His father had been there. Watching. Judging.
“Accept it, son,” the old man had said. “You’re the one who f****d up.”
That was the moment Philip broke.
Maeve returned to the North. She found her second-chance mate, a Lycan Alpha, noble and strong. Together, they now ruled a powerful territory with five pups to call their own.
Meanwhile, Philip was chained to Sue. Out of shame. Obligation. Spite.
He’d had two daughters with her—girls he loved more than his own life—but Raymond?
Raymond reminded him every single day of the love that got away.
And that’s why he made the deal.
A secret contract. A blood-oath forged with the Alpha of the Sun Moon Pack. His son—Raymond—would marry the Alpha’s second daughter, Sophia.
It wasn’t out of diplomacy or alliance.
It was revenge.
Sophia had rejected her true warrior mate, too hungry for power, too desperate to be a Luna to an Alpha. Her father had wanted her tied to someone with strength and rank—and Philip had delivered that on a silver platter.
During one of Raymond’s “lessons,” after beating him raw in the hidden cellar—no silver, of course, that would’ve raised questions—he had taken a few drops of his son’s blood, added it to the contract parchment, and sealed the oath.
All Raymond had to do now… was sign.
One signature.
One unaware moment.
And his future would be chained, just like Philip’s.
He would never know the warmth of a real mate. Never know love. Never know freedom.
Just like him.
So let the kings whisper his name. Let them laugh. Let them send him to the Alpha University with glory and promise.
It won't matter.
Because in the end, Philip always wins.
And when the boy finally realizes what’s been done to him?
It’ll be too late.
- Writer
