Chapter1
1144 Words
I walked into the music room. I needed to clear my head.
The room was quiet, the air still. I sat at the piano and let my fingers drift across the keys, playing a song I had composed in my youth. The melody flowed easily, filling the room with warmth—echoes of a time when life had been simpler. Before duty. Before loss.
Then my gaze lifted.
The family portrait hung opposite me, perfectly centered on the wall. The sight of it tightened something in my chest. Anger surfaced first, sharp and uninvited. Pain followed close behind, so familiar it had grown dull with time. Sadness came last, settling quietly and heavily over everything else.
Today was the day I finalized my plans to attack Nightthorn.
Their reluctance had gone on long enough. My council would be arriving tonight to discuss the final details. It would be a long, stressful meeting.
But I was ready.
I had waited long enough.
Without realizing it, my hands changed course. The music slowed, darkened, the notes bending beneath the weight of my thoughts. The melody became a lament, each chord dragging up memories I had spent years trying to master.
When it became unbearable, I stopped playing.
Silence swallowed the room.
Unease stirred inside me. I didn’t want to attack them—not while I had sensed that scent at their border during my patrol.
My mate was there.
And she was strong. Healthy.
My long-awaited mate.
I wasn’t ready for that.
I was preparing to conquer an entire region. A mate was the last thing on my mind.
The very last thing.
And yet… I found myself curious about her.
My gaze returned to the portrait—my father, stern and commanding even in death. Beside him stood my twin sister.
My breath caught.
A single tear slipped down my cheek, rare and unwanted.
Today was a difficult day.
It was my birthday.
A sad one.
But work had to be done. My sister had to be avenged. Those witches would not get away with what they had done.
I needed numbers—warriors. I would not force my pack to birth children only to send them to die in battle.
So conquest it was.
The natural order.
Hunt… or be hunted.
And right now, I was hunting for manpower.
As I sat there, my mind drifted back to my faceless mate. I knew she would be a threat to my sanity. I was a wolf after all.
A sigh escaped my lips as my eyes narrowed on the family portrait.
I forced myself to look only at my father’s face. One glance at the blonde girl at the edge of the frame was enough to ignite a rage I struggled to contain.
I missed her.
I missed the way birthdays used to feel when we shared them. Before laughter had been replaced by blood and unanswered questions.
Now birthdays served only as reminders—of her murder, and of how utterly alone I felt in the world.
Downstairs, a celebration waited.
My mother had spent months planning it—lavish, precise, desperate. I would not be the one to ruin it.
I rose from the bench and left the music room, checking the time as I stepped into the corridor.
Seven p.m.
The party would begin at nine.
As I walked toward my chambers, something small caught my eye. A toy lay abandoned on the floor, a child’s book beside it.
Brielle’s.
I picked them up with a sigh, a faint softness breaking through my expression. She had been born a few years after my twin’s death—too late to know the sister whose name she unknowingly carried forward.
I wondered where she was.
“Brielle?” I called, peering into the rooms as I walked down the corridor. “Today is a very important day.”
“Maelor?”
My mother’s voice echoed through the mind link.
“Yes, dearest?”
“I hope you’re getting ready for your big day.”
I laughed softly. “Do I have a choice?”
“Well… has your suit been pressed? And I hope you chose the one with the rhinestone lapels.”
“Rhinestones?” I muttered aloud, making a face.
I placed the toy and book carefully on a table beneath my father’s portrait and continued down the hall.
When I reached my chamber, I noticed the door was slightly ajar.
Instinct took over instantly.
No one left my door open. Someone had either been careless—or trespassing.
And either way, there would be consequences.
I pushed the door open slowly and slipped inside, silent. The windows were closed, but that meant nothing. My gaze swept the room.
The wardrobe first.
Claws slid from my fingertips as I crossed the room and flung the doors open.
Nothing.
Next, the bathroom. I opened the door—
—and froze.
A rustle came from the bed, followed by a loud yawn.
Brielle.
Relief washed through me, sharp and sudden. I approached the bed and pulled back the covers slightly.
There she was, fast asleep.
Sauce smeared across her mouth and fingers. My steak dinner lay beside her, half-eaten.
“Brielle,” I murmured, exasperation mixing with faint amusement.
I had been looking forward to that meal. Once the party began, I wouldn’t be able to eat—or drink—until it was over.
I activated the intercom.
“Stefan?”
“Yes, Alpha Maelor.”
“Where is Brielle?”
A pause.
“Alpha… she’s nowhere to be found. We’ve searched the entire manor.” Stefan’s voice wavered with fear.
As he spoke, I glanced at my suitcase near the wall. I opened it and exhaled in relief—Brielle’s grimy toddler hands hadn’t touched my suit.
“I’ve found her,” I said calmly. “Send a couple of servants to collect her. And bring fresh sheets. I fear these are ruined.”
“Coming right away, Alpha.”
The intercom went silent.
Hunger stirred as the scent of steak lingered in the air. I considered requesting another plate, but it would take time—and the servants were already overwhelmed by my mother’s relentless preparations.
I didn’t want to wait.
A hunt, then.
Already dressed, I left the manor, passed through the gardens, and crossed the lawn toward the forest.
At its edge, my body shifted—bones stretching, clothes tearing—as a massive black wolf took my place.
I didn’t care about the ruined fabric.
It could be replaced.
I surged into the forest, surrendering to instinct. Wind rushed past me as the earth thundered beneath my paws.
My thoughts drifted briefly to the old, frail Alpha rotting in the dungeon beneath my home.
I made a mental note.
After the party…
I would pay him a visit.
- Writer
