Hunter’s POV
“You don’t get to be Alpha by being soft, Hunter. Remember that.”
My father’s voice echoed through the training ground, sharp as the whip of wind against my face.
I was fourteen. My legs were shaking from the weight of the logs strapped across my shoulders, sweat soaking through my training shirt. The other boys in the pack stood nearby, eyes narrowed, waiting to see if I’d fall—because weakness in the Crescent Moon Pack didn’t go unnoticed.
“Do you want to lead or be led?” he barked.
“Lead,” I gasped.
“Then act like it.”
I gritted my teeth and kept going.
That day wasn’t special. It was just one of many. My father believed pain built leaders. He believed kindness was a liability. In his eyes, an Alpha didn’t comfort his pack—he commanded it.
So I learned early on how
