POV: Alpha Marcus (Luther’s Father)
The fire in my study was low, flames licking the logs with quiet hunger. I preferred it that way—dim corners, long shadows. Darkness strips men of their masks.
My son stood where I told him to: in front of my desk, back rigid, jaw locked, fists clenched at his sides. All sharp edges, iron posture—the image of an Alpha who conquered boardrooms and crushed rivals.
But I had seen him falter. We all had.
That howl.
It still reverberated through the stones of Red Moon. Two young voices, raw but potent, howling in unison with enough force to make half the pack collapse. Warriors, servants, even elders dropped to their knees, gasping under the weight of power too primal to resist.
I’d nearly bent myself. Nearly.
And Luther—Alpha, my heir, my blood—had sw
