Chapter 1: Alexander
“Call it in.”
“Yeah,” Xavier sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Might as well get it over with.”
He crossed the room to the old rotary phone mounted on the wall of the family library and dialed 9-1-1. As it rang, his eyes drifted toward the leather sofa, where Pea sat beside her grandfather, Amir. Both looked like they had a thousand questions but no idea where to begin.
Truthfully, that was expected.
In less than a month, Pea had survived a rogue wolf attack, discovered she wasn’t fully human, learned that the bedtime stories whispered to children held fragments of truth and that she was royalty bred and born. A queen in the making, no less. Oh, and she was soul tyed to a king. A king who now had a target on his back.
“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”
“This is Xavier St. Clair. I need Sheriff Buckston to come to my residence immediately.”
The dispatcher’s tone shifted with barely concealed excitement. “Mr. St. Clair, may I have your address?”
“He already has it,” Xavier replied coolly. “Just let him know someone will be waiting at the gate to let him in.”
He paused, voice hardening.
“And one more thing… make sure he comes alone.”
Without waiting for a response, Xavier hung up and turned back to the room, meeting the watchful eyes of Pea and Amir.
Outside the ranch house, the smell hit first.
A sickening mix of burnt flesh and lye hung thick in the fall air, enough to make even the strongest stomach churn. Rogue corpses still smoldered blackened heaps littering scorched earth. The once-manicured lawn of the St. Clair estate was shredded beyond recognition, clawed up by battle and soaked in blood. Cracked windows glinted in the moonlight, broken glass catching the light like jagged teeth. Blood streaked the white columns of the porch and smeared across the railings unmistakable signs that war had arrived on royal land.
And at the base of the front steps, covered by a blood-soaked sheet, lay the body of Omar.
The sheriff would see it all.
Inside, the library felt suspended in time.
“We need to find out who’s behind this attack,” Alexander said, pacing near the fireplace, arms crossed. “But before that… we have to deal with Buckston.”
Xavier nodded, his jaw tight. “What are your thoughts?” he asked, turning to his father.
Before Alexander could answer, Amir spoke.
“I’ll tell him the truth,” he said, voice thick with emotion. His eyes, heavy with sorrow, dropped to the floor. “That I shot and killed the mayor... my son.”
The words shattered the silence.
Amir’s body trembled. Then he broke.
A raw sob tore from him, so human, so broken, it made both Alexander and Xavier feel like boys again. Vulnerable. Powerless. Witnesses to a pain no one should ever have to bear.
Pea moved without hesitation.
Tears welled in her eyes as she took her grandfather’s hand in both of hers and knelt in front of him. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. Her voice, though trembling, was steady enough to carry the only truth that mattered.
“You did kill your son,” she said softly. “But you said it yourself, his soul died long ago.”
Amir’s eyes lifted to hers, the anguish still fresh.
“Your courage, Grandfather,” she continued, her voice cracking, “your selflessness… it saved my mother. It saved me.”
And in that moment, her words became a balm, one he hadn’t known he needed, but couldn’t live without.
He collected himself and continue to sit quietly in the library, the heavy scent of aged parchment and cedar lingering around him like memory itself. The silence of the space was comforting but deceiving. His mind wasn’t quiet.
As he waited for Sheriff Buckston to arrive, Amir’s gaze drifted to the far corner of the room, one that still carried the ghost of a different time. It was there, nearly four decades ago, that he and Alexander had their last true conversation. Two men brothers not by blood but by bond arguing beneath a chandelier lit by moonlight and conviction.
He could still hear the echo of their voices. Heated. Passionate. And full of purpose.
“You’re risking everything!” Alexander had roared, slamming his palm against the wood. “Our people are not ready for your kind of science.”
“And you’d rather them stay in ignorance?” Amir had shot back, rising to meet him. “What are we if not seekers of truth?”
“Protectors,” Alexander had replied coldly. “Guardians. And sometimes that means keeping the truth hidden.”
That argument tore the fabric of their brotherhood. Amir left that night with the sting of betrayal biting his heels, and Alexander remained seated in that chair, crown heavy on his head. Neither one had called the other after that. Not for decades.
Still, Amir knew he had always known that Alexander kept a watchful eye. Behind the scenes, pulling strings quietly, ensuring Amir was never truly without protection. He just never stepped forward. Never mended what was broken.
He exhaled, rubbing the palm of his hand against his thigh as he muttered to himself, “It’s a shame… what ego and pride can cost men.”
A soft smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. If the two of them ever sat down to write a book about those years an Alpha King and his Beta, torn apart by duty and truth it would be a tragedy and a triumph all at once.
And now, as fate would have it, they were both back under the same roof. Wiser. Weathered. And, perhaps, ready to finish the conversation they started all those years ago.
Alexander stood at the far end of the library, staring out the window that overlooked the western ridge. The same ridge he and Amir used to run as boys, long before kingdoms, titles, and the crushing weight of responsibility had reshaped them into men.
He studied Amir’s silhouette , he was older now, hell they both were but Amir's shoulders were heavier with time and sorrow. Alexander swallowed the lump in his throat. It wasn’t just age that had weathered his old friend. It was loss. The kind of loss that claws beneath the skin and stays lodged in the soul like a splinter.
First Leslie.
Now Omar.
He leaned against the wall and let his mind drift back to that fateful night, when his own fear, his role as king, and his obsession with upholding tradition overruled loyalty.
He had been so young.
So sure.
So wrong.
Amir had stood before the High Council alone, defending his research with fire in his voice and a truth that was ahead of its time. He wasn’t trying to undermine the kingdom. He was trying to prepare it. But Alexander… he’d said nothing.
He could still see the look on Amir’s face when the council dismissed his work and stripped him of his status. Betrayal. Hurt. Disbelief.
And Alexander had let it happen. “I thought I was protecting everyone,” he whispered to himself. “But all I did was fail the one man who would’ve never failed me.”
His throat tightened. The weight of the crown had never felt heavier than it did in that moment.
Through the glass, he watched Amir reflection shift slightly, wincing as he moved his shoulder. The man looked tired. Hollowed out by years of solitude and by the cruel hand fate had dealt. His mate gone. His son turned enemy then lost for good. And still, he stood. Still loyal. Still carrying the weight of a world that had never been kind to him.
