***XANDER***
"You know you're not worthy to lead the pack."
My father's words struck before I could even say another word—cold, sharp and final. His words felt like a sharp blade piercing through my chest.
"What?" I muttered, my voice sounding under my breath. I swallowed hard. "What do you mean… I'm not worthy?"
Alpha Toreno didn't even lift his gaze toward me. He stood near the window, fingers resting behind his back, his posture stiff, unmovable—like he had made this decision long before I arrived.
Silence stretched between us for a moment.
I felt my jaw clench, frustration clawing up my throat. "So who's worthy then?" I said finally.
I already knew the answer.
I already knew. But I still wanted him to say it.
His next words came with the weight of stone. "I'm going to hand the pack over to Lancelot." No hesitation. No remorse. "He has all the qualities required of an Alpha."
The room tilted. For a second, I couldn't breathe.
Heat surged through me, burning through my chest, spreading fast to my head.
He turned his back on me slightly, and something inside me snapped.
Before I could think, before I could even blink—my body moved.
I clamped my fist around his throat, tightening it as much as I could.
A fragment of time froze. It felt unreal—like the world had stopped moving.
One second, I was holding his throat.
The next, I was on the ground.
On my knees.
Breathless.
Strength gouged out.
My body wouldn't move, no matter how much I tried. My hands trembled, like they witnessed real fear. Alpha Toreno stood above me, his eyes flashing a deep, overwhelming red.
Compulsion.
A power only the strongest Alphas possessed.
And he had used it on me.
On his own son.
Shame crawled up my spine, cold and sickening. Realizing how powerless I am, how nothing I had done mattered. I scrambled to my feet, chest tightening, vision burning with humiliation.
I darted towards the door.
I didn't look back—I couldn't. All I wanted was distance, anything to get away from my father's crushing presence.
But just as I reached the doorway—
"Stop!" My father's voice cut through the air—calm, low, dangerous.
My body obeyed instantly. I froze, unable to resist, unable to move, unable to even breathe right.
His footsteps slowly approached until I could feel his breath brushing on my neck—heavy, suffocating.
"If you ever try that again," he said, each word dreadful weight, "I will forget that you're my son… and I'll kill you with my own hands."
Cold fear wrapped tightly around my spine. He walked away, leaving me standing there. I still remained in the corridor long after he was gone—my breath coming out in short bursts, hating the way my hands shook, hating the truth that Lancelot was chosen over me.
When I finally dragged myself home, I drifted to sleep in no time.
***
The clamouring from outside was what woke me up. Voices overlapped each other, and somehow it felt loud in my ears—making my head ring loudly.
My eyes snapped open.
"What now…" I muttered, slamming my hand on the bed.
I pushed myself off the mattress, brushing my hand on my face before moving toward the window. I peered outside, looking down from the high floors of the castle.
The view below made me still instantly.
Four men on horseback.
I could tell from the first sight they weren't friendly people.
They were strangers.
And not ordinary strangers, their uniforms were the first sign that caught my eye—distinct red leather, shaped and stitched in a way I had only ever seen from beyond our borders. The kind of armor worn by hunters… or emissaries.
But one man stood out.
Tall.
Blonde.
Broad shoulders.
One eye hidden behind a thick black eyepatch.
He raised his hand, and the clamouring fell quiet instantly. When he spoke, his voice travelled across the courtyard—loud enough to reach even where I stood.
"We come here on the orders of Lord Roosevelt. We have not come to cause harm, but to make an awareness."
The tension in the air doubled.
"If anyone has any vital information about a man bearing the sign of a crescent on his back, send word to us. Lord Roosevelt will reward you bountifully."
A crescent?
Why that?
The man finished his announcement, pulling his reins as he turned his horse around. The four of them began to ride off, their red uniforms flashing brightly in the morning sun.
I stayed at the window—frozen.
A crescent.
That description twisted something in my mind—something familiar. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember where I'd seen it.
The memory stretched out of reach, but I didn't give up.
A crescent. On someone's back.
And then, like a sudden strike—
Lancelot.
I had seen it when we were teenagers. He never bathed with the other males—always avoided it.
Always hid himself.
I only knew because I snuck in once, suspicious.
And on his back—
A black tattoo.
Shaped like a crescent moon.
My breath caught.
Lord Roosevelt was searching for him. And Lancelot… now I understand why he's been hiding this his entire life.
This is a perfect opportunity for me to pull him down, and to gain enough power from Roosevelt.
But for now, I will watch. I will let tension build more, before I finally hand him out.