Awakened By Blood

**Chapter 1**

Alexander Kane had always believed his life was ordinary.

He worked construction by day, pushing his body hard under the sun until his muscles burned and his skin glistened with honest sweat. At night he went home to a small apartment on the edge of the city, cooked simple meals, and slept like the dead. No drama. No secrets. Just the quiet rhythm of a man who thought he understood the world.

Until tonight.

He woke up choking on a scream that never left his throat.

The room was dark, lit only by the pale silver glow of the full moon spilling through the half-open window. His skin felt like it was on fire—every nerve ending screaming as something primal clawed its way up from inside his chest. His heart hammered against his ribs like a beast trying to break free.

A low, guttural growl filled the room.

Alexander bolted upright, chest heaving. His hands—God, his hands—were changing. The bones cracked and lengthened, dark fur rippling across his knuckles. He stared in horror as claws pushed through his fingertips.

“No… what the fuck—”

The door to his bedroom burst open.

Victor stood there, shirtless, breathing hard, his own eyes glowing with that same unnatural amber light Alexander sometimes caught in the mirror when he was angry. Behind him were their uncles—Wilson and William—both grim-faced and alert, moving with the predatory grace that now made terrifying sense.

“Alex, breathe,” Victor said, voice low and commanding as he crossed the room in two strides. “Look at me.”

Alexander tried to scream. The sound that came out was half-human, half-snarl. Strong hands clamped over his mouth—Wilson’s on one side, William’s on the other.

“Concentrate,” William growled close to his ear. “You feel the wolf? Push it back. Will it down. You’re stronger than the shift right now.”

Alexander’s vision sharpened unnaturally. He could smell the fear-sweat on his own skin, the forest scent that clung to his brother’s clothes, and something else… something feminine and wild that made his blood run hotter.

The giant black wolf he’d seen in his nightmare—the one with red eyes and teeth like knives—wasn’t a dream. It was *him*. Or part of him. The realization hit like a freight train.

Victor’s grip tightened on his shoulder. “That’s it. You’re doing it. Fight it back.”

Slowly, painfully, the fur receded. The claws retracted. The fire in his veins cooled to embers. Alexander slumped forward, gasping, sweat pouring down his bare chest and back.

“What… the hell… is happening to me?” he rasped.

Victor exchanged a heavy look with their uncles before answering.

“It’s in our blood, little brother. Always has been. Dad tried to bury it. Thought if we never spoke about it, it would stay dead. But the moon doesn’t forget.”

Wilson released Alexander’s mouth and stepped back, arms crossed. “You’re a Shadowfang. Same as us. Same as your uncles. The first shift is always the worst.”

Alexander’s head spun. He looked down at his hands—normal again, but he could still feel the wolf pacing just beneath his skin, impatient and hungry.

He remembered fragments of the vision: a woman in a dark headscarf, her eyes glowing the same feral gold as his brother’s. The way she looked at him… like she *knew* him. Like she belonged to him.

“Who is she?” he whispered before he could stop himself.

Victor’s eyebrows rose. A faint, knowing smirk tugged at his lips. “You’ve seen her already? That’s… faster than most.”

“She’s the one they call the Chosen,” William said quietly. “Her bloodline runs parallel to ours. She’s strong. And she’s been waiting for you.”

Alexander swallowed hard. His body still ached, but another kind of heat was building low in his gut at the mere thought of her.

Before he could ask more, a new sound shattered the fragile calm—a distant howl that didn’t belong to any of them.

Victor’s expression darkened. “Marco.”

The name landed like a punch. Alexander had crossed paths with the man once before—tall, vicious, with a reputation for leaving bodies in the woods. He wasn’t just another werewolf. He was something worse.

“He knows you’ve awakened,” Wilson muttered. “And he’s coming for blood.”

Alexander stood on shaky legs, the remnants of the shift still tingling through his muscles. He looked at his brother, at his uncles, then out the window where the moon hung fat and accusing in the sky.

“I didn’t ask for this,” he said, voice rough.

Victor clapped a hand on his shoulder, eyes fierce with pride and warning.

“Doesn’t matter. The wolf chose you anyway. Now you have to decide what kind of monster you’re going to be.”

Alexander stared into the darkness, heart pounding with a mixture of terror and something dangerously close to *hunger*.

The night was only beginning.