The wolf's heir

The hidden wolves

Chapter 6

Darkness pressed heavy on Kael. He drifted between shadows and memory—the bloodied wolf’s eyes, Veynar’s cruel smile, Selene’s silver gaze. Pain throbbed through every bone as if the mountain itself had tried to crush him.

He should have been dead.

Instead, warmth spread across his chest, pulling him back from the abyss. Voices murmured through the haze. Rough, unfamiliar voices.

“Still breathing. Barely.”

“By the Goddess, he looks just like Thorne.”

“Quiet. Darius will want to see him.”

Kael tried to move, but agony pinned him down. The world blurred into firelight and shadows before he sank again into blackness.

---

When he woke, it was to the crackle of a campfire and the smell of herbs. He lay on a bed of furs, his ribs bound tight, his body wrapped in salves that stung but dulled the pain.

A figure sat nearby, sharpening a blade with slow, deliberate strokes. Broad shoulders, scarred arms, grizzled beard streaked with gray. His eyes—hard and steady as stone—lifted when Kael stirred.

“You live,” the man rumbled. “Good. Would’ve been a shame to drag you from that river just to bury you.”

Kael’s throat was dry, his voice hoarse. “Who… are you?”

The man set the blade aside. “Name’s Darius. Once, I was General of the Bloodfangs. Your father’s right hand.”

Kael’s heart lurched. “My… father?”

Darius studied him for a long time. “Alpha Thorne. The true Alpha. Not the snake who wears his skin now.”

Kael’s blood ran cold. He tried to sit up, wincing. “You know him?”

“Knew him?” Darius’s jaw tightened. “I followed him into battle. I bled for him. And when Veynar betrayed him, I swore vengeance. I’ve been waiting for the day Thorne’s blood rose again.” His gaze sharpened. “That day, boy, is today.”

Kael shook his head. “No… no, you’re wrong. I’m nothing. I can’t even shift.”

Darius leaned forward, his voice low and fierce. “That’s because you’ve been chained. Fed lies until you believe them. Veynar feared you from the moment you were born. He knew if the pack ever saw your true blood, they would follow you, not him.”

The words struck Kael like thunder. Memories clawed through his mind: Veynar’s scarred throat, the wolf in his dreams, the woman with emerald eyes whispering of Alpha blood.

“My father…” Kael’s voice broke. “Veynar killed him, didn’t he?”

Darius’s silence was answer enough.

Kael’s fists trembled. Fury surged through his veins, hotter than the pain. His uncle had taken everything—his father, his place, his very worth—and poisoned it with lies.

Darius rose, towering over him like a mountain. “If you want vengeance, boy, then you must earn it. The blood of an Alpha does not make a leader. You must be forged in fire. Only then will you reclaim what is yours.”

From the shadows beyond the fire, others emerged. Men and women with hard eyes, their bodies marked with scars. Wolves who had once followed Thorne. The last of the loyalists.

They knelt before Kael.

“To the blood of our Alpha,” they murmured.

Kael’s breath caught. For the first time in his life, no one looked at him with scorn or pity. Only respect. Expectation.

The weight of it settled on his shoulders. He was no longer just Kael, the useless pup. He was Kael, son of Thorne. Heir of the Bloodfangs.

And Veynar would pay.

Kael met Darius’s gaze, his amber eyes burning with new fire. “Teach me.”

Darius’s scarred mouth curved into som

Ething between a smile and a snarl. “Good. Tomorrow, we begin.”