The Alpha’s Forbidden Mate

[KIERAN POINT OF VIEW] The metallic scent of blood clung to the air like a curse. My father's body lay sprawled across the cold forest floor. His once-commanding figure now lifeless beneath the silver glow of the moon. The dagger was still buried in his chest, its hilt slick with fresh blood. I stood frozen, breath shallow, my mind blank with shock. My hands... they were stained red. I didn't know how — I didn't remember drawing a weapon, let alone using one. "I... didn't—" The words caught in my throat. But the accusing voices around me didn't care for what I didn't remember. Footsteps thundered behind me. Torches flared, shadows twisting across the clearing. "There! He's still here!" someone shouted. Half the pack burst through the trees, their faces a mixture of rage and horror. The Nightfang Pack — my pack, my blood, my home — looked at me as though I were already condemned. Then came the words that sealed my fate: "I saw Kieran!" "He struck the alpha down!" "I saw his claws — he killed him!" "No, it's not true!" I staggered to my feet, my hands out in defense. "It wasn't me. I blacked out — I woke up like this!" The forest seemed to close in on me, the trees leaning like silent witnesses ready to testify against me. My pulse roared in my ears. I'd lost consciousness earlier — the memory before this moment was nothing but shadows and fragments. But their expressions were already hardening, the truth irrelevant. "Take him," the Beta ordered— Jareth. My father's most trusted second, and Cael's father. His voice was hard, stripped of any hesitation, but his eyes betrayed something else — conflict. He was obeying his duty, but there was no satisfaction in his tone. For years, he had served my father with loyalty; I had trained under his command more times than I could count. Now he had to call me traitor. Two Gammas moved forward — Lukan and Brann — strong, broad-shouldered, their eyes narrowed with disgust. They grabbed my arms, forcing me to my knees. My father's scent was still fresh in my nose, and bile rose in my throat. I caught sight of my mother at the edge of the crowd. Her pale face was unreadable, her eyes locked on mine. "Mother... you don't believe them, do you? You know I wouldn't—" But she didn't answer. Instead, she looked away. That small motion cut deeper than any blade. "Kieran you wanted the title," Elder Tharos spat from the shadows of the crowd. "Now you'll pay for it." The next hour was a blur — torches, angry voices, and the cold echo of the council chamber. I was shoved into the center, chains biting my wrists. The elders of Nightfang sat in a semicircle like carrion birds waiting to feed. "There are witnesses," Elder Malric said, his voice booming. "Three saw you shift, strike your father, and leave him for dead." "They're lying!" My voice cracked, raw from shouting. "Something attacked me, too. I don't remember what happened after—" "Convenient," elder Tharos sneered, his hawk-like gaze drilling into me. From the side of the chamber, Jareth spoke — the Beta, Cael's father. "He's telling the truth." His voice carried steady conviction. "I fought beside the alpha and his son their whole lives. Kieran is many things, but he is not a murderer. I will stake my oath on that." For the first time, I looked at him not as Beta, but as the only one willing to stand for me. Hope flickered, fragile as ash. But the Elders' expressions didn't soften. "Your loyalty blinds you, Jareth," Elder Malric said, dismissive. "The evidence speaks louder than your faith." "He blacked out," Jareth pressed. "Something else was in those woods. You all know there have been... strange signs. Rogues too close to our borders, scents we couldn't trace. You are too quick to condemn the alpha's son when there are darker enemies moving in our lands." "Enough!" elder Tharos' fist struck the table, the sound echoing like a verdict. "Your words dishonor the council. The boy killed his father, and the pack demands justice." Jareth's jaw tightened. He bowed his head, but his eyes lingered on me — not in accusation, but in silent promise. He had tried. He had spoken for me. But the Elders had already chosen what they wanted to believe. I turned to my mother, my last lifeline. "Tell them. Please." Her eyes shimmered, but her voice was steady. "I don't know what to believe." The room seemed to tilt. It felt like the floor had vanished beneath me. "You will remain in the dungeons of Shadowspire until the council determines your fate," elder Malric declared. The guards dragged me out. My feet scraped the stone steps leading down into darkness. The cell door slammed shut with a finality that told me no one planned on opening it again. In the silence, I clenched my fists. My father's killer was still out there — watching. Laughing, and whoever it was, they wanted me gone. They had succeeded. For now. But I wasn't going to rot down here. I would find the killer, and when I did, I'd make them wish they'd killed me that night. ——— I'd been in this hole for three days, though it felt like weeks. The stench of damp stone and rusted iron clung to the air like a curse. Cold seeped from the walls of my cell, gnawing into my bones, while faint water dripped somewhere in the darkness. The place wasn't meant for long-term prisoners — it was meant to break them. The iron bars were pitted with age, but the lock was solid, gleaming with fresh polish. They weren't taking any chances with me. Thin shaft of light struggled through the barred window high above my head, illuminating the dust swirling in the air. Chains rattled with every movement I made, the heavy cuff around my wrist tethering me to the wall. Three days since my father's blood stained my hands — though it hadn't been mine to spill. Three days since they called me a murderer. Since witnesses, voices I'd known my whole life, swore they'd seen me kill him. Three days since my own mother had looked me in the eye and, with trembling lips, asked me if it was true. But I couldn't even blame her. If I had seen what they claimed to see, I might have believed it too. One familiar set of footsteps echoed in the corridor beyond the iron door, breaking through my thoughts. Then came the muffled voice of the guard, grumbling at whoever had come to see me. Moments later, the hinges groaned, and two figures stepped into the gloom. Cael was first, grinning as if we were meeting at the training grounds instead of in a prison cell. "Well, well, if it isn't the pack's most wanted celebrity. Should I start bowing or is that against prison rules?" I didn't smile. "Finally." Behind him, Zelira's sharp eyes scanned the room. She didn't bother with greetings, only stepping closer to the bars. "We had to wait for the guards to change shifts. You know they don't exactly encourage social visits to accused patricides." "I'm not guilty." I said, my voice low. Cael leaned against the wall beside her, crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, try telling that to the elders. They've already picked your execution date." My head snapped toward him. "What did they decide?" Zelira's gaze hardened. "They'll strip you of your title, declare you guilty, and make the killing public. They want to 'set an example.'" I laughed bitterly. "Example for what? That anyone can be framed and slaughtered if it keeps the council happy?" Cael's grin faltered for the first time, and his voice dropped lower. "My father fought for you. Told them over and over you wouldn't do it — but they didn't care. Said his judgment was clouded. They shut him down like he was some rookie Gamma instead of the Beta who's kept this pack together for twenty years." I froze, my chest tightening. Jareth had stood for me. Risked his reputation for me... and they'd dismissed him. Her eyes softened just a fraction. "They want blood, and yours is the easiest to spill..." She stopped for a moment, her jaw tightening as if weighing whether to speak the next words. "Execution," Zelira whispered. "They'll call it an execution for the murder of the Alpha." The words hit me harder than any blow. For a moment, all I heard was the rush of blood in my ears, a roaring tide threatening to drown me. My chest tightened until breathing felt like swallowing glass. Execution. My own execution.