Chapter 1
Edited 2026-04-05
Theodore:
I sat at my desk, shuffling through the large stack of papers the Council had angrily dropped in front of me. My eyes scanned each face hesitantly on the list of Alpha-born females. A growl climbed to my throat; I threw my hands in the air and huffed, earning a chuckle from Malcolm beside me.
He sat at his desk, reading through a large binder of Alpha traditions, smirking at me from the corner of his eye. “No luck finding us a beautiful Alpha female?” he chuckled, looking back at his binder.
“This is fucking retarded. How come we get punished with a forced mating, all because our father died? What kind of cruel and unusual punishment is this?” I growled, and he just chuckled more.
“Most wolves don’t take over the Alpha throne until they’re eighteen. We took over at fifteen. Therefore, we’ve hit the three-year mark and now need a forced mate. It’s not that complicated,” he mused, and I growled even more.
“I. Don’t. Want. A forced. Mate. I want our mate,” I seethed, and he turned to me, a bored expression on his face.
“You don’t think I want a forced mate, do you? We need to appease the Council, play their little games, throw a yearly hunt… we can buy ourselves another year or two. Just relax, brother. Let me handle the technicalities.” He smiled, but I just threw my hands up in frustration again, my wolf stirring inside me.
When our father died at fifteen, the Council granted us an early throne because we were twins. Most Alphas couldn’t take the throne until eighteen, needing to be mature enough to handle the responsibilities and consequences. But as twins, we had the advantage of two minds leading together, so they made an exception.
I had always been the ‘soft’ one—the heart of the pack. My brother was the leader—the iron hands, the muscle, the scary face. We worked in perfect unison. I kept him from leading with blind rage, and he handled the grisly details.
It was perfect unison—except when it came to our mate. Having searched for her for three years, our wolves were restless. Typically, an Alpha was granted a mate within weeks of gaining the title, as designed by the Moon Goddess. An Alpha needed a Luna at their side—it was a requirement.
Most wolves didn’t find their mate until their eighteenth birthday, but because we ascended early, it was expected that our mate would be older than us—already eighteen when we were fifteen. That was how it worked.
We were destined for each other; the Moon Goddess never made mistakes. I had always wanted a younger mate—someone fragile, sweet, someone I could fiercely protect.
That was where Malcolm and I differed. He wanted a warrior, a strong mate, which meant an older mate increased his chances of finding one. I didn’t care—I wanted her, however she came.
When my wolf stirred, I stood up, frustrated, and headed for the door.
“Where are you off to, Theodore? There’s a shitload of work to be done, and you’ve been staring at pretty faces for two hours,” Malcolm growled, frustration clear in his voice.
It was true. I had been obsessing over the Council’s demand to find a forced mate since our eighteenth birthday last week. I had been neglecting my Alpha duties, leaving Malcolm to pick up the pieces.
“I need a run. Then I’ll come back and get started on the pack finances,” I said, turning to the door as a growl escaped my lips, my body going rigid at the voice in my head.
There’s been a breach on the upper north border. Heading over now, but it smells like multiple rogues. Our beta, Dexter, mind-linked us.
I turned to Malcolm, already standing. Dexter had been our father’s beta and had agreed to remain in position until his retirement next week, when his son Jeremy—our best friend—would take over on his eighteenth birthday.
Dexter was an old dog, set in his ways but fiercely loyal. Truthfully, we wouldn’t have survived the last three years without him. Our mother died when we were thirteen, and for two years, we watched our father descend into madness. We never received detailed Alpha training; we were thrown into this role when he passed, and Dexter had become like a second father to us.
On our way—catch them all. Don’t let anyone leave! Malcolm ordered as we shifted and rushed out of the house. The scent hit our nostrils immediately, and I threw Malcolm a knowing glance. He nodded.
They’re splitting up. Dexter, go with the warriors to the large group. Theodore and I will take the straggler. We ordered and headed to the border.
We never received a response back from Dexter, which was unusual, but we pushed the thought aside, trusting his strength—especially with the pack warriors behind him.
We ran, our wolves energized by the distraction, thudding through the trees. As we neared a clearing, the scent of blood hit my nostrils. A growl escaped me, and I looked at Malcolm, who already had a knowing glint in his eyes.
This wasn’t just any blood—it was Dexter’s. The scent was overwhelming. We slowed, stepping from the trees to see a small, weak wolf standing near a creek. She was a she-wolf, her bright red fur like fire, drinking from the creek, unaware of us closing in.
Something about her calmed my wolf. The fury and rage coursing through my blood slowed, replaced by a calm I couldn’t explain. I shared a glance with Malcolm before he said the words that made her body freeze.
Shift. He ordered through the mind link.
As if punched in the face, she turned rigid, her dark brown eyes meeting ours. She was just an omega—now rogue. Wolves of title had black eyes; omegas—the weakest—had brown eyes in wolf form.
Now. I added, patience thinning as I heard Jeremy in my head, voice broken. Dexter, our beta, was dead.
As Alphas, we could mind-link with wolves outside our pack when in proximity—a tool of command during wars and a very useful trick.
Her body shook as she struggled to shift, weakness clear as her small frame collapsed on the ground, blood covering her. Her red hair was the most beautiful color I had ever seen, but her piercing green eyes, like emeralds, captured me—filled with nothing but fear.
Within a second, Malcolm had shifted, shoving her to the ground with extreme force.
“You killed my fucking beta!” he roared. The anger radiated, and she flinched, a sob escaping her lips.
Malcolm, stop! I ordered through our mind link. His body froze, eyes snapping to mine. I shifted with him, giving a pointed look.
We don’t kill children. I reiterated.
We don’t kill our pack’s children… we do kill rogues. He argued, and I shook my head.
She’s a fucking kid, man. I pleaded. He sighed, rolling his eyes before grabbing her arm roughly. She screamed as he dragged her through the woods.
Fine. She will live in our dungeon until her eighteenth birthday. Happy? He snapped, dragging her roughly, her knees scraping the ground as she cried. He didn’t even glance her way, cursing under his breath.
I linked Jeremy, knowing he was ignoring me, and shifted, racing back toward the west border. He was still with his father’s body and needed a friend.
I couldn’t stop the stirring of my wolf—an anxious hum building through my body—but I ignored it. It must have been nerves from dealing with the Council yet again.
When I found Jeremy, he sat on the ground, his father in his lap, sobbing. The warriors had left him alone, and he stared blankly at his father’s body. When his eyes met mine, he stopped wiping his tears and let out a small, dry chuckle.
“Sorry, Alpha,” he whispered. I sat beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“No apologies. Feel it, Jeremy,” I said, as we sat in complete silence, my mind drifting to the young girl who had killed my beta… and I couldn’t even let my brother kill her. What the fuck was wrong with me?
