The Alpha Princess and Her Enemy

Bad

Wrenna POV

Wrenna strode toward the line of pack members, heart pounding so hard it made her vision blur—Damian right behind her.

A woman screamed—her mate convulsing as a Seer gripped his head between pale hands, fingers digging into his temples, veins of black spreading beneath the skin—while oathbound soldiers stood behind the man, observing the scene with a cold, emotionless gaze.

“Stop it! You’re hurting him!” the woman cried—while a warrior held her back.

Wrenna clenched her jaw—fear and anger threatened to paralyze her, but she needed to be a leader right now. Her pack needed her.

“That’s enough!” Her voice carried across the clearing, the weight of authority snapping the Seers’ gaze to hers.

“This is council business,” she hissed, her voice a mix of her own, and something much darker—demonic.

“This is my pack, so that makes it my business.” She answered, taking another step closer. “Remove your hands from his head, or I’ll remove them from your body.”

The Seer held her venomous smile, but something in her eyes twitched, and her hands slowly moved away—freeing the man, who fell back with a thud, his mate already on him, calling out his name while crying.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded next to her, but she refused to look away from the dark witch in front of her.

“Alpha Dravenwood. This is Council business. I command you to step back—” A councilor said. She’d never seen him before, but his cream-colored tunic gave him away as one of the leaders in council. Not the highest one. They wore black.

“Article 2.4 of the Decretum of the Council states that only the Alpha has the authority to punish or question packmembers if and only if they have broken pack law.” She quoted the Decretum—the holy book the Council goes by. Books were her thing, and yes, she was kind of a nerd.

Movement to her right had her head snapping in that direction. Councilor Morris.

He stepped forward, brandishing a rolled parchment sealed in black wax.

“By order of His Majesty,” he announced, the grin that followed pure venom, “the King has authorized a Writ of Dominion. Effective immediately, all regional laws are suspended. The Council now holds absolute authority over this territory. Over all werewolf territories.”

Wrenna could feel the color draining from her face, but she refused to back down, snatching the parchment from the Councilor’s hands to read it herself.

“But this is an order by King Mealrick…” she trailed off.

“What?” Damian snapped., stepping closer behind her, reading over her shoulder while the smug Councilor smiled.

King Maelrick was the King of Raveryn—the Other Realm. He shouldn’t even know her pack existed. So why was he giving orders here?

“Yes. King Maelrick.” Morris’ grin widened, as if he knew something Wrenna didn’t.

“But… King Marcus is—”

“King Marcus has been… detained. The Council now answers only to His Majesty Maelrick.”

Wrenna heart pounded in her throat. What the f**k was going on? Wrenna knew the kingdoms had an alliance—King Marcus had even sent troops to aid the other realm before—but to seize power? That was unheard of.

“Detained? Under what law?” Damain demanded.

“That…is above your rank, gamma!” the Counciler with the cream-colored robes snapped, anger contorting his face.

A scream tore through the air.

Wrenna spun toward the sound just as a Seer lifted both hands, the air splitting open into a swirling black vortex that hummed like a living thing. Oathbound soldiers were shoving people toward it—men, women, children—while the unlucky ones left behind were held down, weeping, as their families vanished into the light.

The scent of iron and ash filled her nose. A mother clawed at the dirt as her pup was ripped from her arms.

Wrenna’s heart seized. They’re taking them. And there was nothing she could do about it.

“Now, Alpha Dravenwood, you wouldn’t happen to know where you sister and brother or, now do you?” Wrenna’s eyes widened for a split second, before she schooled her features like she’d been taught by her father.

“No. I don’t.”

“Luna Veronica already fled,” Morris said, mock-sighing. “Your father caused quite the distraction so she could run. Always was a disappointment, that man….Choosing a Siren for a Luna…and well, pushing forward his daughter for the Alpha position instead of his son.”

He was trying to bait her, to get her to lose it, just like he’d baited the Morgans of the Silent Wind pack, and now no one even remembered them. But Wrenna wasn’t falling for the trap.

“Where is he?” Her tone could have carved stone.

“Oh, don’t worry, Alpha Dravenwood.” Morris smiled thinly. “We’re not here to hurt anyone. We’re just looking for a certain bloodline.”

A bloodline? What did that mean?

“And what about your son… little Brenley?” Morris asked. At of the corner of her eye, Wrenna noticed the Seer coming closer, observing her with keen interest.

“What about him?” Damian growled.

Stay calm. He wants a reason to arrest us! Wrenna warned through the link.

“Why?” Wrenna asked, a smile spreading over her face, but it was anything but friendly. “I don’t have magic in my bloodline.” She wasn’t Veronica’s daughter—she was Amber’s.

“Hmm…we thought so too…until we dug into her heritage.” Morris nodded, running a hand over his goatee.

“I assure you. There is no magic there. Test me, if you like.” She pushed back the sleeve of her shirt and held out her arm to the Seer, all the while keeping eye contact with Morris. The Seer eagerly came forward, eyes bulging, licking her lips like a predator.

Wrenna didn’t flinch when her long nails sliced through her skin, and her slimy tongue licked at the blood trickling down her arm. The Seer took in a sharp breath—eyes rolling into the back of her head, while sucking, like some famished animal.

“No magic here,” she hissed, her voice sounded ancient, as if it carried on the wind.

“We’re still going to have to see your son. Sometimes magic skips a generation.” Morris said, disgust clear on his face as he took in the Seer.

“Well, he’s not here.” Wrenna grated out.

“Where… is…he?” Morris asked in a deathly calm voice. When neither Wrenna nor Damian answered, Morris turned to one of the Oathbound and gave a curt nod. The sadistic smirk on his face made the knot in her stomach coil tight. What was he to do.

“Wren!” A female voice cried out, as a figure appeared from the forest, being dragged by two Oathbound warriors.

No…no, no, no, no.

“Lyra!” Wrenna gasped, taking a step forward. Immediately, two Oathbound stepped forward, their faces void of any emotion. Morris tutted, shaking his head.

“Now, Wrenna…may I call you Wrenna?” he asked, as if they were having a casual conversation.

“No.” she sneered.

“Wrenna… I’m going to give you one chance to produce Brenley…. Or your sister dies.”

Wrenna’s eyes darted around, searching for a way—any way out of this. How the f**k could she choose between her son and her sister?

“Don’t give him to them, Wren. Don’t!” Lyra shouted, kicking one of the guards square between the legs. The other Oathbound struck her across the face with the back of his hand. Her cheek split open on impact, blood running down her jaw—but she didn’t make a sound. She only glared at him, defiant, before spitting in his face.

She was fearless—just like their father. Just like Veronica. Only sixteen, and already unstoppable.

A roar tore through the chaos behind her. Wrenna spun just in time to see Alexander and Rae being dragged away by Oathbound soldiers.

Jackson—her father’s Beta and one of the elite—didn’t hesitate. He ripped free of the warriors holding him, threw one to the ground with a single punch, and charged after his children. It took five soldiers to bring him down. They slammed him into the dirt, wrenched his arms behind his back, and locked his wrists in silver cuffs.

Her pack—her home, everything she loved—was being ripped away beneath her feet. But Lyra was right. She couldn’t give them Brenley. Yet she couldn’t let her sister die, either.

A strange calm settled over her as the decision solidified. She knew what she had to do. But first she had to make sure Brenley would be safe—if she didn’t make it back.

Take care of him for me, Damian. And help him remember me. Her voice shook through the link.

Wren, no—you can’t—

She severed the connection, cutting off every voice except the steady growl of her wolf. Her hands curled into fists. She drew a breath, ready to strike—to tear Councillor Morris apart—

A sound froze her in place.

“Mama!”

The word sliced through the noise like a blade. Wrenna’s head whipped toward the north entrance.

Brad was pinned between two warriors, Brenley clutched tight against his chest. Blood streaked his face; one eye was nearly swollen shut, his lip split open. His shirt was torn, his chest heaving—he’d fought for the boy, that much was clear.

“Bad!” Brenley sobbed, reaching for him with tiny hands, his wolf plushie crushed in one fist, pacifier dangling from his mouth. The sound broke something inside her.

And behind them—untouched, immaculate—Sienna trailed after. Her lips curved in a smile that made Wrenna’s wolf snarl.

That f*****g b***h.

“Aaah, look who’s late to the party,” Morris chuckled. “And with such perfect timing.”

“Give him to me!” Wrenna demanded, hurrying to reach her pup. Her wolf whimpered inside of her mind at the sight of him, so fragile, so scared.

Strong arms grabbed her, pulling her back. “Now Alpha Dravenwood, calm down. We’re not going to hurt the boy—we’re not monsters.” Morris said in mock disbelief, shaking his head with a smile. “He’ll go to Raveryn with the rest of the trained ones, and we’ll test him…and if he comes back negative, he’ll be returned to you in no time.”

Wrenna heard the words, but they weren’t registering. No, they would not take her pup from her. Morris nodded and one of the oathbound soldiers stretched out his hands to grab him from Brad’s hold.

Brad’s voice came out hoarse. “Touch him—and die!”

Brenley’s little hands gripped Brad’s torn shirt even harder. The sight was almost too much to bare.

“Bad! BAD!” Brenley cried out, as he was ripped from Brad. Wrenna struggled against the warriors holding her, Damian doing the same behind her while Brad knocked on down, before two others overpowered him, slamming him to the ground and kicking him.

“Stop it!” Wrenna cried out.

Morris ignored Brad, eyes locking on Wrenna. “The bloodline always surfaces. You can’t hide what you are, Alpha Dravenwood.”

“f**k you!” She spat.

“Mama! Mama!” Brenley cried, his little eyes desperate. Wrenna could feel her bones cracking as her wolf surfaced, ready to take over to save their pup.

But before she could, Rowan pushed through the crowd, shoulders squared, voice shaking but steady. “I surrender myself.”

Morris blinked, intrigued. “Do you now?”

Rowan’s gaze flicked to Brenley. “Come here, Bren. Uncle Rowan’s got you.” His voice softened, gentle, coaxing. Brenley whimpered once before reaching toward him. Morris nodded and the Oathbound placed him down, as he ran to Rowan, who took him in his arms and clutched him to his chest, glaring at Morris.

“Good boy,” Morris murmured. “Now, through the portal. Both of you.”

“No,” Wrenna breathed. Her body moved before thought caught up.

The guards lunged as she twisted, slamming the heel of her palm into one man’s nose—bone cracked. She grabbed the other by his collar and threw him to the ground, her wolf howling inside her chest.

“Wrenna!” someone shouted—Damian?—but she was already running.

She didn’t care. She saw only Brenley’s little hands reaching for her as the portal roared in front of her. Rowan gave her one last look, before he walked in.

Wrenna sprinted—it was as if the world had slowed down, narrowing to a single point—her son’s cry, the shimmer of the rift, the iron taste of magic in the air.

And then she jumped. Her body felt like it was being torn apart as she was swirled around, not knowing what was up, what was down… and then…

Everything went black.