Fated to the Cursed Alpha of High Crown

KANE Eight hours before the full moon, the pain always starts the same way—small, sharp pulses under my skin, like something alive is trying to claw its way out. I’ve learned to hide it. Three years of practice makes you good at pretending you’re fine. But tonight, the ache hits harder. I’m in my office, trying to finish paperwork my dad, Ulric, left on my desk, when the first jolt snaps through my spine. My hand tightens around the pen until it cracks. Ink splatters across the page. Derek is at the door before I can curse. His eyes flick to my hand, then to my face. “It’s starting.” I nod once. No point denying it. Derek has seen me at my worst—he and Aiden are the only ones besides my parents who know what really happens when the moon rises. Aiden appears behind him, already carrying the reinforced cuffs. “We should head down now. You’re early.” “I know.” My voice comes out rougher than I intend. The pain crawls deeper, settling into my bones. I push away from the desk and stand. My legs feel heavy, like they’re preparing for the shift long before the moon demands it. My mom, Grace, meets us at the top of the stairs. She’s dressed in a soft sweater, hair pulled back, eyes already red. She tries to smile, but it trembles. “Hi, sweetheart.” I hate that she calls me that on nights like this. It makes me feel like a child she’s walking to his execution. “Mom.” I keep my tone steady. “I’m fine.” “You’re not.” Her voice cracks. “You never are.” Ulric stands behind her, arms crossed, jaw tight. He doesn’t cry. He never has. But the guilt sits on him like armor he can’t take off. “Let’s get this over with,” he says quietly. We move together down the long stone hallway that leads to the dungeon. The air grows colder with every step. The scent of iron and old magic clings to the walls. I’ve walked this path thirty‑six times. Thirty‑six full moons. Thirty‑six nights of losing myself. The pain spikes again, sharper this time. I grit my teeth and keep walking. Grace reaches for my arm. “Kane—” “I’m okay.” I pull away gently. “Please. Don’t make this harder.” Her breath shudders. She nods, but tears spill anyway. We reach the heavy steel door. Derek unlocks it. Aiden steps inside first, checking the chains, the restraints, the reinforced walls. Everything is exactly as it should be. It always is. The dungeon is built deep beneath the pack house, hidden from everyone except those who need to know. A secret tunnel leads out into the woods—a last resort escape route in case I ever break free. We’ve never had to use it. Yet. I step inside. The air is cold enough to sting my lungs. The chains hang from the ceiling, thick as my wrist, spelled by the Strain witches to withstand the beast. I hate them. I need them. Aiden hands me the cuffs. “You good?” “As good as I get.” He nods and steps back. I fasten the cuffs around my wrists, then lift my arms so Derek can secure them to the chains. The metal bites into my skin. The magic hums, reacting to the curse inside me. Grace turns away, covering her mouth. Ulric places a hand on her shoulder. “He’s strong. He’ll get through it.” He says it like a promise. I hear it like a prayer. When the last chain locks into place, Derek and Aiden step back. The room feels bigger when I’m restrained, like the walls are waiting for me to lose control. Grace approaches me slowly. “Kane… look at me.” I do. Her eyes shine with tears she tries to blink away. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I never meant for this. I never thought—” “Mom.” I shake my head. “Don’t.” But she keeps going, voice breaking. “I made a choice to save Kendra. I didn’t know Morwenna would twist the bargain. I didn’t know it would be you.” I swallow hard. I’ve heard this speech a hundred times. It never hurts less. “You saved my sister,” I say quietly. “I’d make the same choice.” Grace sobs once, a small, broken sound. Ulric pulls her back gently. “We need to go,” he says. “Before it gets worse.” He’s right. The pain is spreading fast now, heat crawling under my skin, magic sparking in my veins. The moon isn’t even up yet. Derek meets my eyes. “We’ll be right outside. You call, we come.” I nod. “Go.” One by one, they leave. The door closes with a heavy thud that echoes through the chamber. And then I’m alone. Just me. The chains. And the monster waiting under my skin. The silence presses in. I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself, but the pain spikes again—sharp, electric, hungry. Three years of this. Three years of losing myself. Three years of pretending I’m still whole. I lower my head and breathe through the next wave. The moon is coming. And tonight… something feels different. ** The first hour alone is always the worst. The pain builds in slow, steady waves, tightening around my ribs, crawling up my spine. I try to breathe through it, but each inhale feels like fire under my skin. The magic inside me stirs, restless, pacing like a caged animal. Three years, and I still haven’t learned how to brace for it. The chains rattle when I shift my weight. The sound echoes through the empty chamber, bouncing off stone walls like a reminder: You’re dangerous. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the cold wall. I used to fear the pain. Now I fear the moment I stop feeling it—because that means the beast has taken over. A pulse of heat shoots down my arms. My fingers curl involuntarily. The moon isn’t up. I grit my teeth and ride it out. Minutes pass. Maybe hours. Time gets strange on nights like this. The dungeon feels suspended outside the world—no sound, no light, no life except the monster under my skin. My thoughts drift to my mom. She’ll be upstairs, pacing the hallway, pretending she’s not crying. My dad will be sitting in his office, pretending he’s not listening for the first scream. They think I don’t know their routines. I do. I know everything about the way they break for me. Another jolt hits, sharper this time. My knees buckle, and the chains catch my weight. A low sound escapes me—half growl, half breath. The beast pushes closer. I force myself to focus on something else. Anything else. Kendra. She’s in British Columbia, studying, living a life far away from this nightmare. She calls every full moon, even if I don’t answer. She leaves messages I listen to later, when I’m human again. “Hey, big brother. You better still be alive. I’m not flying home to resurrect you.” She jokes because she doesn’t know how else to cope. I let her. She deserves normalcy. Another wave of heat rolls through me, stronger than the last. My vision blurs at the edges. The chains creak as my muscles tense. The moon is rising. I feel it like a pull in my blood, a magnetic drag toward the sky. My heart pounds harder, faster. My breath comes in short bursts. The beast stirs fully now, pacing, snarling, eager. I clench my jaw. “Not yet.” My voice sounds wrong—too deep, too rough. The air thickens. Magic crackles faintly around me, reacting to the curse. The Strain witches spelled these chains to hold me, but even they warned the magic wouldn’t last forever. A cold thought slips in. What if tonight is the night I break them? I swallow hard. The idea terrifies me more than the pain. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to become the thing Morwenna designed me to be. Another surge hits—violent, electric. My back arches, and the chains strain. A sound tears from my throat, raw and involuntary. The beast is close. Too close. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to hold on to myself. My name. My family. My purpose. Anything that keeps me human for a few more minutes. But then— Something shifts. Not inside me. Outside. A breeze slips through the dungeon—soft, cool, carrying a scent I’ve never smelled before. Clean. Warm. Familiar in a way that makes no sense. My eyes snap open. The beast inside me freezes. The pain… eases. Not completely. But enough that I can breathe again. My heart stutters, confused. What— Who— The scent drifts again, faint but unmistakable. It’s coming from the tunnel that leads to the woods. Someone must be walking near the entrance aboveground. But no one should be out there. No one ever comes near this place on full moon nights. Another wave of the scent hits me, and the beast goes still—silent, alert, almost… calm. My breath catches. This has never happened. Not once. Not in three years. I strain against the chains, not to break them, but to get closer to the scent. My pulse races for a different reason now. “Who are you?” I whisper into the dark. The beast inside me answers with something I’ve never felt from it before. Recognition. The pain drops again, almost gentle now. My chest tightens—not from the curse, but from something far more dangerous. Hope. The scent fades slowly, carried away by the wind. And the moment it disappears— The pain slams back into me like a hammer. I gasp, knees buckling, chains rattling violently. The beast roars inside my skull, furious at the loss. The moon crests the horizon. My vision fractures. My bones burn. My thoughts scatter. But one thing stays clear, sharp as a blade: Someone out there just calmed the monster. And I need to know who.