The Alpha They Tried to Kill

The rain began to fall before the sun had even touched the horizon. By the time I reached the heart of the pack grounds, the air was thick with the suffocating scent of wet earth, lingering woodsmoke, and the metallic tang of blood. Tonight was the Blood Moon gathering, the single most significant night of the year for our kind. Warriors crowded around the massive stone arena, clutching overflowing cups of ale, while servants darted through the throng, balancing trays of roasted meat and lit fire lanterns that danced in the wind. Music drifted through the frigid night, and to any observer, it would have seemed like a night of jubilation. But not for me. I kept my hood pulled low, shielding my face as I navigated the press of bodies, praying to remain unseen. That hope was extinguished the moment a sharp, mocking voice cut through the noise. “Well, look who finally crawled out of his hole.” Laughter erupted behind me. I stopped, my shoulders tensing. I did not need to turn to recognize the cadence of that voice; it was my cousin, Damon. He stepped into my path, flanked by two other warriors, all of them reeking of cheap ale. Damon was everything the pack idolized: tall, broad-shouldered, with a jaw carved from granite and the lethal grace of a perfect wolf warrior. He was everything I was not. His gaze flickered down to my hands, his lip curling in disgust. “Still no claws? Still can’t manage a proper shift?” His companions jeered, their amusement sharp and cruel. I said nothing, attempting to step around them, but Damon shoved me hard, sending me sprawling into the thick, freezing mud. The crowd nearby erupted into fresh laughter. They loved nothing more than watching the Alpha’s useless son make a fool of himself. “Be careful, cousin,” Damon drawled, looming over me. “The cursed prince might shatter a bone.” I climbed to my feet, ignoring the mud that clung to my clothes like a second skin. My chest burned with a familiar, suffocating humiliation, but I forced my expression to remain blank. I had learned long ago that showing weakness was merely an invitation for more cruelty. Damon stepped closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I heard the Alpha plans to announce his successor tonight.” One of the warriors smirked, casting a glance at me. “Certainly won’t be this weak bastard.” Damon leaned toward my ear, his breath hot and foul. “You should be grateful your father hasn’t thrown you to the wolves already.” I gritted my teeth. The word father felt like poison on my tongue. Alpha Magnus Draven was powerful, feared, and respected, but he had never been a father, at least, not to me. A sudden blast of a horn silenced the arena. Every head turned toward the towering stone staircase leading to the main platform. The crowd parted as Alpha Magnus emerged. He walked through the rain as if the storm itself bent to his will, his black armor encased in silver wolf markings that shimmered in the torchlight. His presence alone was enough to crush the air from the room. Beside him walked Beta Tristan and his daughter, Selene. My breath hitched. She was breathtaking, dark hair cascading over a pale face, silver earrings catching the firelight, and black leather hugging her frame with the Blood Fang crest stitched proudly on her shoulder. She was cold, beautiful, and entirely out of reach. She did not even glance my way. Damon chuckled, noting the direction of my gaze. “Still dreaming of her? How pathetic.” I ignored him, focusing on the platform. The Alpha surveyed his people, his gaze sweeping over the arena until it fell upon me. The temperature around me seemed to plummet. “When the Blood Moon rises,” Magnus’s voice boomed, carried effortlessly over the thunder, “we honor the strength of our ancestors.” The crowd roared in approval, but I remained at the back, a ghost in the shadows. “The Blood Fang pack stands as the strongest clan in Varshaine because weakness has never been tolerated among us.” My stomach tightened. I knew the rhythm of this speech by heart. Weakness is a burden. Weakness deserves nothing. I was the living, breathing embodiment of that failure. Twenty-two years old and still unable to shift. The healers called it a curse, the elders called it a shame, and the pack deemed me useless. I was the Alpha’s disappointment, a stain on the Draven name. A servant approached the platform, carrying a small silver box. My heart stuttered. I knew that box. It held the Moon Bond necklace, the sacred mark of a mating ceremony. A tremor ran through me. Surely not tonight. Alpha Magnus raised a hand, commanding silence. “Tonight, my son will finally accept his place within this pack.” The crowd turned toward me, their eyes expectant and predatory. Confusion warred with dread in my chest. What was he playing at? Magnus looked toward Selene. “Step forward.” She obeyed, her expression serene, though I caught the subtle tension in her jaw. The servant opened the box, revealing the necklace. The arena erupted in cheers, but I could barely breathe. The bond between Selene and me had stirred the moment we turned eighteen, though she had never once acknowledged it publicly. A foolish, desperate part of me had dared to hope. Maybe tonight would be the turning point. “Selene Voss,” the Alpha said, his voice hard as iron, “do you accept Kael Draven as your mate before this pack?” The silence that descended was absolute, save for the rhythmic hammering of rain against stone. Selene met my eyes for the first time that night. I searched her face for a shred of empathy, a flicker of kindness. I found only cold, distant pity—a wound far deeper than hatred. She turned away from me, toward the Alpha, and spoke with crystalline clarity. “I reject him.” The words felt like a blade being twisted in my gut. Gasps echoed through the arena, followed by a surge of predatory whispers. I gripped the stone railing to keep from falling. My chest felt as though it were being hollowed out; the mate bond was tearing itself apart, the pain radiating through my nerves. Damon’s laughter was the loudest. “I will never accept a weak wolf as my mate,” Selene added, her tone utterly detached. The pack roared with approval. Mockery rained down on me from every side, derisive shouts, barks, and cruel laughter. Selene would not look at me again. She had dismissed me from her world as easily as one brushes off dust. “As expected,” Magnus said, his voice devoid of emotion. It had all been a performance. Not a ceremony, but a public execution of my dignity. My fists trembled at my sides, my anger spiking so violently that I nearly lost my footing. Just as I felt the edge of total collapse, a searing, unnatural pain lanced through my chest—something sharper and more primal than the broken mate bond. It coursed through my veins like molten lead. A voice whispered in my mind, ancient, furious, and distinctly unhuman. Kill them. My eyes widened. The presence felt like a beast waking from a centuries-long slumber. I staggered as the pain intensified, gasping for air while the crowd continued to revel in my ruin. Through the drumming of the rain and the cracks of thunder, the Alpha spoke once more, his words sealing my fate. “Kael Draven, you have brought shame to the Blood Fang name for the last time. At dawn, you will be executed.”