The Alpha's Shattered Bond: His secret Lycan Heir

008

Packing for the Apocalypse

~VINA HALE~

If there was a Yelp review for my life right now, it would just be a picture of a dumpster fire with the caption: “Great lighting, but the service is literally murderous.”

I had 5 hours and 42 minutes left.

I’m sitting on a pile of wet towels in the laundry room, and my brain is doing that thing where it tries to process a thousand terrifying facts at once while also wondering if I should have had one last cupcake before the world ended.

I have less than six hours before Enforcer Kael—a man who has the emotional range of a brick and the muscle mass of a small SUV—comes down here to stage my "suicide."

I am pregnant. With twins. One of whom has a heartbeat that sounds like a standard wolf pup, and the other of whom has a heartbeat that sounds like a Norse god pounding on a war drum.

I am a rankless, rejected Omega with exactly zero dollars in my bank account and a wardrobe consisting of two gray tunics and a pair of boots with a hole in the left toe.

I leaned my head against the cold stone wall and took a shaky breath. My wolf Dusty, was still curled in a ball of depression, but that new, heavy pulse in my stomach? It was like a shot of adrenaline straight to my marrow.

It was a weird, buzzing energy that told me to move.

“Okay,” I whispered to the empty, steam-filled room. “New plan. We’re not dying today. We’re not dying tomorrow. In fact, we’re going to live out of pure, unadulterated spite.”

I stood up, and for the first time since Jace broke my soul on that dais, my legs didn't feel like jelly.

They felt like steel.

I wasn't just Vina the Invisible anymore.

I was a vessel for something ancient. If Magnus wanted to erase the "Lycan mistake," he was going to have to find me first. And I was about to become the hardest thing in the world to find: a ghost who knew all the secret exits.

I grabbed an old, sturdy rucksack that someone had abandoned in the "Lost and Found" bin three years ago. It smelled faintly of gym socks, but it had good straps. Aesthetics are officially a luxury I can no longer afford.

I slipped out of the laundry room and into the service corridors. The pack was still celebrating upstairs. I could hear the muffled thrum of the bass and the occasional drunken howl of a warrior who had too much ale.

They were celebrating Jace and Sarah.

They were celebrating the death of a "mistake."

I used the shadows like a second skin. Being rankless means your scent doesn't carry. I’m naturally "stealth mode" enabled.

I reached the kitchens.

The air was thick with the smell of leftover roast venison, spilled wine, and grease. The kitchen staff—mostly other Omegas who were too tired to care about anything but sleep—were finishing up the cleaning.

I waited until the head cook, a terrifying woman named Martha who once hit a werewolf with a rolling pin and won, turned her back to scrub the massive soup cauldron.

I moved.

I swiped a large hunk of dried venison and a bag of salt. Salt is important. Not for seasoning, but because if I’m going into the Forbidden Forest, I need to keep my electrolytes up and maybe ward off a stray demon or two.

(Do demons hate salt? Or is that just in the movies? I will check later).

I also grabbed a small tin of medicinal salve. My feet were going to be a mess by morning.

I snuck into the pantry, which doubled as a storage area for the pack’s old records. I knew that in the back, behind the crates of pickled onions, there was a cabinet containing the old topographical maps of the Silver Moon territory.

I found it. My fingers were shaking as I pulled out a yellowed parchment.

The Silver Moon pack is surrounded by three things: the human town (too dangerous, too many cameras), the Blood-Claw territory (they’d kill me for sport), and the Forbidden Forest.

Everyone in the pack is told from birth: ‘Don’t go into the Forest. They say the trees shift, that the shadows have teeth, and that it’s where the "Old Magic" went to rot.’

“Perfect,” I muttered, shoving the map into my bag. “Rotting magic is exactly my vibe right now.”

The Forest leads to the Neutral Zones—a place where no Alpha has jurisdiction. If I could make it through the trees, I could disappear.

I was about to leave the kitchen area when I saw it.

On the wall near the meat-prep station, there was a decorative display of antique knives. Most of them were dull, ceremonial junk. But in the center, there was a short, wickedly sharp dagger with a hilt made of black bone.

The blade was silver.

In our world, silver is the great equalizer. It doesn’t matter how fast you heal or how big your wolf is; silver burns.

It hurts. It kills.

I reached for it, my hand hovering inches from the hilt.

What are you doing, Vina? A voice in my head—the old, timid Vina—whispered. You’ve never even held a weapon. You’re the girl who washes the towels.

The "double pulse" in my stomach surged. The deep beat—the Lycan one—hit my ribs with the force of a command. Take it.

I grabbed the hilt.

The silver didn't burn me. It felt… cool. Right. I slid the blade into a leather sheath I found on the counter and tucked it into the waistband of my leggings, hidden by the hem of my tunic.

I was officially armed and dangerous. Well, armed and "highly likely to accidentally stab myself," but it was a start.

The Final Obstacle

To get to the waste tunnels, I had to pass by the East Wing—the wing where the royal suites were.

I tried to keep my head down, but as I passed the staircase, I heard a laugh.

A deep, rich laugh that I would have recognized in a vacuum.

Jace.

He was standing on the landing above, leaning against the railing. He wasn't wearing his suit jacket anymore. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, and his hair was a mess. He looked beautiful. He looked like the boy I had loved for eight years.

And then Sarah stepped into view.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, whispering something in his ear that made him smirk—that lazy, arrogant smirk that used to make my heart melt. Now, it

just made me feel like I’d swallowed a gallon of battery acid.

“You made the right choice, Jace,” Sarah said, her voice loud enough to carry down the hall. “The pack is stronger already. Everyone is talking about how decisive you were.”

Jace didn't say anything for a moment. He looked out the window, toward the dark line of the Forbidden Forest. For a split second, his expression shifted.

He looked… haunted.

“It had to be done,” he said, his voice flat. “She was a mistake. Let’s not talk about her anymore.”

He leaned down and kissed her.

I stood in the shadows below, my hand pressed over my stomach. The "ghost bond" flared—a searing, white-hot pain that made me want to scream his name, to run up

there and show him what he was throwing away.

But then, the Lycan heartbeat thrummed.

It was like a shield. It pushed back the pain of the bond, wrapping my heart in a layer of cold, protective ice.

He’s not your mate, the pulse seemed to say. He’s just the man who failed the test.

I didn't cry. I didn't even flinch. I just turned my back on the man I once thought was my entire world and walked toward the darkness of the tunnels.

Note to jace: ‘You’re right. It had to be done.,,’

Because if you hadn't rejected me, I never would have realized that I’m worth a hell of a lot more than a throne. And my children? They’re going to be legends. You? You’re just going to be the guy who stayed in a burning house because he was too afraid to leave.

I reached the waste gate. The smell was horrendous, but it was the smell of freedom.

I checked the old watch on my wrist.

I had 4 hours and 10 minutes.

Kael is going to walk into an empty cell tonight. And by the time Magnus realizes I’m gone, I’ll be deep in the trees where their "Purity and Power" don't mean a damn thing.

I was running. Armed. And officially done being the victim.

See you in seven years, Jace. Hope the throne is comfortable, because it’s the only thing you have left.

I stepped into the tunnel, and the darkness swallowed me whole.