The title of Alpha was not a crown—it was a mantle of fire.
Rayne Valen learned this the moment she stepped into her late father’s war hall.
The stone walls still bore the marks of his reign—burn marks from old raids, deep gashes where claws had scraped in fury, banners faded by years of battle. But everything else had changed.
The elders sat stiffly, their judgment hidden behind wrinkled expressions. The warriors didn’t bow when she passed—they watched. Measured. Waited for her to falter.
Cain had not made it easy.
Though she had bested him in the Trial of Alpha, his influence still festered in the hearts of many. He spoke with poisoned civility now, calling her “Alpha Rayne” in public while whispering insurrection in the shadows.
“It’s tradition, Alpha,” an elder insisted one morni
