The Alpha’s Hated Mate

The last thing twelve-year-old Kael Varyn heard before the screaming began was his best friend laughing. It was a sound he would remember for the rest of his life. Bright. Carefree. Completely unaware that, within minutes, eleven boys would be dead, and the twelfth would wish he had died alongside them. But that morning, Kael knew nothing of death. He knew only that the sun was shining, the forest smelled of pine and damp earth, and his father had finally agreed to let him spend the afternoon with his friends without a warrior following him around. For once, he was simply a boy. Not the future Alpha of the Blackthorn Pack. Not the son of Alpha Roderic Varyn. Just Kael. “You’re cheating!” Kael twisted around as a pinecone struck him between the shoulder blades. He spun to find Darius grinning at him from behind an enormous oak tree. “That’s what you get for being slow!” Darius shouted. “Slow?” Kael scoffed. “You only got ahead because you tripped over your own feet!” “I did not!” “You did!” “Prove it!” Kael laughed and took off running. Behind him, Darius let out an indignant yell before charging after him. Their voices echoed between the trees, mingling with the laughter of the other boys scattered throughout the clearing. There were twelve of them altogether, all between ten and twelve years old. They had been friends since they were old enough to run through the packhouse without their parents chasing after them. Some were future warriors. One day, a few might become Betas or lead their own families. And Kael? Everyone knew he would inherit the Alpha title from his father. It was a responsibility he’d been reminded of since he was old enough to understand what the word meant. His father had already begun teaching him about pack loyalty, the importance of protecting the vulnerable, and the weight of making decisions that affected hundreds of lives. Kael listened. Most of the time. But today, he had no interest in discussing pack responsibilities. Today, he wanted to win the game. “Last one to the creek is a mangy mutt!” Darius shouted. The boys erupted into protests. “That’s not fair! You started before anyone was ready!” “Then catch me!” Darius disappeared between the trees. Kael grinned and followed. For the next several minutes, the forest belonged to them. They raced through patches of sunlight, leapt over fallen branches, and shoved one another playfully whenever someone tried to claim victory too early. By the time they reached the creek, Kael was breathless. He bent forward with his hands on his knees, laughing as Darius stumbled to a stop beside him. “Still think you’re faster than me?” Darius panted. Kael straightened. “You only won because I let you.” Darius stared at him. Then he burst out laughing. “You’re going to make a terrible Alpha if you keep lying to yourself!” Kael shoved him into the shallow water. Darius went down with a spectacular splash. For one glorious moment, the entire world dissolved into laughter. Kael would remember that sound, too. Because it was the last time he would ever hear his friends laugh without fear. ⸻ They should have returned to the packhouse before the sun began to descend. Kael knew that. His father had given him a strict rule about how far he could travel into the forest, and they were already dangerously close to crossing it. But when the other boys begged for another game, Kael hesitated. He was the future Alpha. He was also twelve. And twelve-year-old boys were not renowned for their willingness to abandon fun in favour of sensible decisions. “One more round,” Darius pleaded, wringing water from the hem of his shirt. “Then we go back.” Kael glanced towards the distant mountains. He could almost hear his father’s voice in his head. Being Alpha means knowing when to say no, Kael. He sighed. “Fine. One more.” The boys cheered. They decided to play hide-and-seek, with Kael chosen as the seeker. He closed his eyes against the trunk of a tree and began counting. “One. Two. Three…” The others scattered. “Four. Five. Six…” He heard hurried footsteps, a muffled giggle, and someone crashing through a patch of undergrowth. “Seven. Eight. Nine…” A twig snapped somewhere to his left. Kael smiled. Found you. “Ten!” He opened his eyes. The forest had gone strangely quiet. Not peaceful. Quiet. The distinction was subtle, but something about the sudden absence of birdsong made the hairs on his arms rise. Kael slowly turned his head. “Darius?” No answer. He frowned. “Very funny. You can come out now.” A breeze moved through the treetops. Somewhere in the distance, a crow called once. Then nothing. Kael’s smile faded. His wolf stirred beneath his skin, a restless presence he had only recently begun to understand. Something was wrong. He could smell it. Something sharp and foul beneath the familiar scents of pine, moss, and running water. Rogues. His father’s stories rushed into his mind. Wolves who lived outside pack protection. Some were simply lost souls who had nowhere else to go, but others survived through violence, taking what they wanted from anyone too weak to stop them. His father had always told him to be cautious around strangers. And to run if he ever encountered a dangerous group without warriors to protect him. Kael swallowed. “Darius, this isn’t funny anymore.” A rustle came from behind him. Relief surged through his chest. He turned. A man stepped out from between the trees. At first, Kael thought he was a warrior from a neighbouring pack. Then he saw his eyes. They were yellow, almost golden, with dark veins spreading through the whites. His clothes were torn, his hair tangled, and his mouth twisted into a smile that made Kael’s stomach tighten. The stranger smelled of old blood and something rotten. Behind him, another man emerged. Then another. Kael counted five before he realised there were more moving between the trees. Much more. His heartbeat thundered. “Where are your parents, little wolf?” the first man asked. Kael took a step backwards. “My father is the Alpha of Blackthorn.” The man’s smile widened. “Is he?” Kael lifted his chin, trying to summon the confidence he had seen his father use when confronting other Alphas. “You should leave. My warriors will come looking for me.” “Will they?” The man glanced at his companions. They laughed. Not loudly. Not hysterically. It was worse than that. They laughed as though Kael had just told them the funniest joke in the world. “An Alpha’s son,” another rogue murmured. “Well, isn’t this our lucky day?” Kael’s stomach dropped. He turned to run. He made it three steps. Something struck him from behind. Pain exploded across his shoulders, and he hit the ground hard enough to knock the breath from his lungs. Before he could scramble away, a boot pressed between his shoulder blades. “Where do you think you’re going?” Kael struggled. “Get off me!” He kicked, twisted, and clawed at the earth, but the weight on his back only increased. Hands seized his arms. Someone dragged him upright. He fought with everything he had, but these men were grown wolves, hardened by violence, and he was a frightened child. He didn’t stand a chance. “Let me go!” he screamed. The man in front of him tilted his head. “Where are your friends, boy?” Kael’s blood turned cold. He said nothing. The rogue struck him across the face. Kael stumbled, tasting blood. “I asked you a question.” “Leave them alone!” The words burst from him before he could stop them. For a moment, the rogue stared. Then his expression changed. Interest replaced amusement. “Ah,” he murmured. “So there are more of you.” Kael realised his mistake too late. The man glanced towards the trees. “Find them.” The rogues scattered. Kael lunged towards the nearest opening, but the hands holding him tightened. He screamed for his father. And somewhere deeper in the forest, one of the boys screamed, too. ⸻ Everything happened too quickly. Kael heard running footsteps. A cry of alarm. The sound of someone falling. Then a scream that ended so abruptly it made his blood run cold. “Please!” Kael begged. “Please, don’t hurt them!” The rogue holding him laughed. “You should have thought about that before you wandered into our forest.” Our forest. Kael had never heard anyone claim these woods before. He struggled again, panic swallowing every sensible thought. “My father will kill you!” The rogue’s smile vanished. “Your father won’t save you.” The words struck harder than the blow that followed. Kael was dragged towards a small clearing where the other boys had been gathered. Some were crying. One was desperately trying to pull away from a rogue who held him by the collar. Darius stood near the centre, his face pale and his eyes wide with terror. When he saw Kael, he tried to move towards him. A rogue shoved him back. “Stay where you are!” Darius stumbled. “Kael!” “I’m here!” Kael shouted. He tried to reach his friend, but the man behind him wrenched his arms backwards. Pain shot through his shoulders. He bit down on a cry. The rogue who appeared to be their leader stepped into the centre of the clearing. He looked at the boys as though he were inspecting livestock. “Twelve little wolves,” he said thoughtfully. “And one of them belongs to an Alpha.” Nobody answered. “Do you know what I find interesting about pack wolves?” He crouched in front of a trembling boy. “You spend your lives believing your Alpha can protect you. You believe that being part of a pack makes you untouchable.” He straightened. “But your Alpha isn’t here, is he?” Kael’s throat tightened. The man looked directly at him. “Tell me, little prince. What do you think your father will do when he discovers what we’ve done to his precious son?” Kael spat blood onto the ground. “He’s going to kill you.” The rogue’s expression hardened. Then he smiled again. “Perhaps.” He turned towards the others. “But first, I think your friends and I need to have a little conversation.” ⸻ Kael would remember the next few minutes in fragments. Darius shouting his name. The smell of blood. The sound of fists striking flesh. The horrible realisation that the men surrounding them had no intention of letting any of them go. The boys fought. Of course they fought. They were terrified children, but they were pack wolves, and their instincts told them to protect one another. One boy threw himself at a rogue who had grabbed his younger cousin. Another tried to bite the hand covering his mouth. Darius managed to wrench free and ran towards Kael. He was almost there when a rogue caught him. “No!” Kael screamed. Darius kicked and fought, his face twisted with terror. “KAEL!” Their eyes met. For one impossible moment, Kael saw the same expression he felt tearing through his own chest. Help me. Kael surged forward. The rogue holding him slammed him against a tree. His head struck the bark. White light flashed across his vision. He collapsed to his knees. When he looked up again, Darius was gone from his line of sight. Kael tried to stand. His legs wouldn’t cooperate. He could hear the other boys crying. He could hear the rogues laughing. He could hear his own voice screaming for a father who wasn’t there. And then the screaming began to fade. One voice at a time. Kael didn’t understand what was happening at first. He refused to understand. He kept telling himself that the boys were hiding, that they were waiting for an opportunity to escape, that his father would arrive and everything would return to normal. But when he saw the still figure of one of his friends lying near the edge of the clearing, something inside him began to fracture. “No.” The word came out as a whisper. He shook his head. “No, no, no…” He tried to crawl towards the boy. A hand caught him by the back of his shirt and dragged him away. Kael screamed until his throat burned. He fought until his muscles trembled. He begged. He promised anything. He offered his father’s wealth, his own future, his life. Anything. Anything at all. But the rogues had not come for money. They had not come for ransom. They had come to hurt the pack. And Kael, the future Alpha of Blackthorn, was the prize they had found. ⸻ The leader crouched in front of him. Kael could barely lift his head. His body hurt in places he hadn’t known could hurt. Blood trickled down his face, and every breath felt like dragging air through broken glass. The rogue studied him. “You know what your problem is, boy?” Kael didn’t answer. “You think you’re important.” The man seized his chin, forcing him to look up. “Your father has spent your entire life telling you that one day you’ll be Alpha. That one day you’ll protect your people.” His fingers tightened. “But look at you.” Kael tried to turn away. The man forced him back. “Look at you!” Kael flinched. “Where are your warriors? Where is your father? Where is that mighty pack you think makes you special?” Kael’s eyes filled with tears. He hated himself for crying. He hated that he couldn’t fight. He hated that his friends were dead and he was still breathing. But most of all, he hated that the man was right about one thing. His father wasn’t there. And Kael couldn’t protect anyone. The rogue released him. Then he drew a blade. Kael stared at the metal in horror. “No,” he whispered. The rogue leaned closer. “Perhaps you’ll remember this day whenever you look in a mirror.” The pain that followed was unlike anything Kael had ever experienced. He screamed. And somewhere beyond the clearing, a wolf howled. ⸻ The sound of approaching warriors reached the clearing several minutes later. The rogues heard it, too. Their leader lifted his head. For the first time since the attack began, uncertainty crossed his face. “Move!” he barked. The remaining rogues scattered towards the trees. Kael barely registered their departure. He lay on the ground, shaking, his vision blurring as the forest tilted around him. He could hear wolves running. Men shouting. Someone calling his name. Then a voice broke through the confusion. “KAEL!” His father’s voice. Kael tried to lift his head. A dark shape crashed to its knees beside him. Strong hands reached for him, then stopped abruptly, as though the sight of his injuries had frozen the man in place. For the first time in his life, Kael saw fear on his father’s face. Not the controlled concern of an Alpha assessing danger. Not the stern expression he wore when Kael disobeyed him. Pure, n***d terror. “Son?” Kael tried to speak. His lips moved, but no sound came out. His father gathered him carefully into his arms. “Oh, Moon Goddess.” Alpha Roderic Varyn pressed his forehead against his son’s. “Kael, look at me. Please, son, look at me.” Kael forced his eyes open. His father’s face was wet. It took Kael several seconds to realise that the Alpha of Blackthorn was crying. “I’m sorry,” Kael whispered. His father recoiled as though the words had struck him. “Sorry?” Kael’s chin trembled. “I couldn’t save them.” Roderic’s expression crumpled. He pulled his son against his chest, careful of his injuries, and held him as though he could shield him from everything that had happened. “You were a child,” he choked out. “You hear me? You were a child.” Kael began to sob. “I tried, Papa.” “I know.” “I tried to help them.” “I know, son.” “They’re dead.” Roderic closed his eyes. For a moment, the Alpha of Blackthorn could not speak. Behind him, warriors moved through the clearing, their faces grim as they discovered what the rogues had left behind. Eleven boys. Eleven sons. Eleven families who would never hear their children running through the packhouse again. Roderic tightened his arms around Kael. “I’m here now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.” But Kael could no longer believe that being held meant he was safe. The rogues had taken that from him, too. ⸻ By the time Kael reached the packhouse, a healer was already waiting. His father carried him through the doors himself, ignoring the warriors who offered to take over. Kael drifted in and out of consciousness as the healers worked. He remembered his mother’s scream when she saw him. He remembered her hand clutching his while the healer examined the damage. He remembered his father standing at the foot of the bed, his face rigid with an anger so terrible that even the warriors avoided meeting his eyes. Then the healer spoke. “Alpha, I need you to understand something.” Roderic turned. “Will he live?” The healer hesitated. “We’re doing everything we can.” “That wasn’t my question.” “Yes,” the healer answered quietly. “I believe he will survive.” For one brief moment, relief crossed Roderic’s face. Then the healer continued. “But the injuries are extensive. He will carry permanent scars. Some of the wounds may affect him for the rest of his life.” Kael heard every word. He stared at the ceiling, unable to turn his head. Permanent scars. For the rest of his life. He was twelve years old. He had wanted to become Alpha because he loved his pack, because he wanted to protect his people, because he believed his father had taught him how to be strong. Now eleven of his friends were dead, and he couldn’t even lift his own head without pain. What kind of Alpha would he become? What kind of man? His mother’s fingers tightened around his. “Kael, sweetheart, you’re going to be all right.” He looked at her. She was trying to smile. Trying to be brave for him. But he could see the tears running down her cheeks. And he knew. Nothing would ever be all right again. ⸻ Three days later, Kael woke to the sound of his parents arguing in the corridor. He couldn’t move without pain. Bandages covered much of his body, and the healer had warned him that recovery would be slow. He lay still, listening. “They slaughtered children, Roderic!” His mother’s voice cracked. “Eleven children! And if your warriors hadn’t arrived when they did, our son would be dead, too!” “I know.” “Then do something!” A silence followed. When his father spoke again, his voice was low and cold. “I will.” “What does that mean?” “It means every rogue responsible for this will answer for what they’ve done.” Kael closed his eyes. He could picture his father standing in the corridor, shoulders squared, jaw clenched. The Alpha. The protector. The man who always knew what to do. But Kael had seen something in his father’s eyes in the clearing. Something he couldn’t forget. Helplessness. His father had arrived too late. And eleven boys had paid the price. Kael stared at the ceiling until his eyes burned. He thought of Darius. Of the laughter beside the creek. Of the promise that they would play again tomorrow. Then he remembered the rogues’ faces. Their laughter. Their contempt. The way they had looked at him as though his life meant nothing. Something cold settled deep inside his chest. He couldn’t change what had happened. He couldn’t bring his friends back. But one day, he would be strong enough to stop it from happening to anyone else. He would learn to fight. He would learn to hunt. He would never again be the helpless boy on the forest floor, begging for someone to save him. And if he ever encountered another rogue who threatened his people, he would make certain they never hurt anyone again. The vow formed slowly, taking root in the deepest, darkest part of him. He would remember every face. Every scream. Every drop of blood. And he would never forgive. Not ever. Outside the window, the wind stirred the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled beneath the pale afternoon sky. Kael turned his face towards the sound. He was twelve years old. He had eleven dead friends. And he had no idea that, ten years later, the Moon Goddess would bind him to a woman who would challenge everything he believed about the monsters he had sworn to destroy. A woman whose only crime was being born into the wrong life. A woman who would become his greatest hatred. And, eventually, the one person capable of showing him how much of himself he had lost in that forest. But that was a future Kael could not imagine. For now, he closed his eyes and made a promise to the dead. Never again. And the boy who had entered the forest laughing began the long, painful journey towards becoming the most feared rogue hunter in the werewolf world.