Elijah POV
“What makes an alpha an alpha?”
Father had asked me that question when I was roughly ten years old, after I’d received a split lip and some bloody knuckles from an alpha’s son in another pack we’d been negotiating with.
“I don’t know,” I replied, dumbly, trying to hide the bruises already forming on my arms. “Aren’t they just born alphas?”
“What made their fathers alphas, then?” he asked, pulling my hands away from them and inspecting the damage. “Or their father’s fathers? All the way down the line - what made the first alpha into an what he is?”
I pondered that question, hesitant to meet his eye again. “Wasn’t it the goddess? Didn’t she bless them? Or choose them?”
“Yes,” he said, wiping the blood from my lip with a wetted cloth. Whatever chemical he’d put on it stung l
