SHADOWED

Alpha Lycan King Alaric Thorne — 247 years old, King of all Lycans in the Northern Territories. Scarred, ancient, bored of the world. He hasn't had a mate in two centuries since he thought the Moon Mother forgot him.

Then you have Wren Carter — 19, just moved to the dead-end town of Black Hollow because her mom got engaged to some finance guy and said "you should spend time with your dad." She doesn't know her dad, Elias, is Alaric's Beta and second-in-command, hiding his wolf so she would have a normal life.

She thinks she's just stuck in a town with no signal.

She has NO idea her bloodline is half-Lycan royal.

---Chapter 1 — The Move

Wren Carter hated Black Hollow before she even saw it.

It had one main street. One grocery store. One high school that looked like it was built in 1974 and then left to rot. And zero cell service.

"This will be good for you," her mom had said on the phone, too bright. "Your father really wants to reconnect. And Robert and I need time..."

Translation: Her mom's new boyfriend Robert didn't want a teenage daughter around.

So Wren was dumped on her dad's porch with a suitcase and a plant.

Her dad, Elias, opened the door and looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Wren? You got here early."

He was big — like, weirdly big. 6'4, shoulders like a doorframe. He had the same dark eyes she had, but his were tired.

"Did you get smaller?" she asked.

He laughed, but it was nervous. He hugged her too tight. "You grew up. Come in, pup."

Pup. Weird nickname. He hadn't called her that since she was 5.

Inside, the house was all wood and wolf pelts — which, okay, mountain decor — and it smelled like pine and smoke.

And there was a man standing in the kitchen.

Wren stopped dead.

He wasn't like her dad. He was bigger. Older. Early 30s looking, but with eyes that looked ancient. Black hair, silver at the temples. A scar through his left eyebrow. Wearing a black henley that stretched over his chest like it was fighting for its life. He was holding a mug that looked tiny in his hand.

He looked at her once and froze. The mug cracked in his grip.

Elias went white. "Alaric, I can explain—"

The man — Alaric — didn't hear him. He was staring at Wren. Not blinking. Inhaling. His eyes had gone from storm-grey to glowing amber in a second.

Wren felt a shiver down her spine. Like she was being seen all the way through. Her skin prickled.

"Who's that?" she asked her dad quietly, not looking away from him.

Alaric took a step forward without thinking, then stopped himself, fists clenched. A low sound came from his chest.

"Friend," Elias said quickly, stepping between them. "This is Alaric Thorne. He... works with me. He was just leaving."

Alaric's jaw locked. He looked at Elias like he wanted to kill him. Then back at Wren.

For a split second, his gaze dropped to her neck. To her pulse.

"Mine," he whispered, so low only wolves could hear.

Wren frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Alaric said, voice rough as gravel. He finally broke eye contact and it looked physically painful. "Welcome to Black Hollow, Wren."

He brushed past her to leave — too close. She caught his scent. Rain, forest, blood and leather. It hit her so hard her knees went weak. Her vision went fuzzy gold for a second.

He felt it too. He stopped, his hand shooting out to steady her elbow, his touch burning hot.

"Careful," he murmured, right against her ear. Possessive already.

Then he was gone, out the door, slamming it.

Wren stared after him, heart hammering for no reason.

"Dad," she said, "your friend is intense."

Elias sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. "Wren... we need to talk about your mother. And why I left."

Outside, in the trees beyond the house, Alaric didn't leave. He stood in the shadows, breathing hard, claws punched into a pine tree to keep himself from going back inside.

His wolf was feral.

_Mate. Ours. Beta's daughter. Beta's little pup._

Elias came crashing out of the house a minute later, furious and terrified.

"You knew," Alaric snarled, amber eyes glowing. "You knew she was coming and you didn't tell me."

"She's my daughter, Alaric!" Elias snapped, shifting halfway, teeth bared. "She's nineteen! She's human — she was supposed to be human! Her mother took her away so she would never know about this!"

"She's not human," Alaric growled. "Not anymore. Can't you smell it? Her power is waking up because she's on our land. Because she's near ME."

That was the worst part. Wren's Lycan blood had been dormant for 19 years in the city. But the moment she crossed into Black Hollow — into Alaric's territory — it started to stir. And the moment Alaric scented her, it ROARED awake.

Elias grabbed his shoulders. "You stay away from her. I mean it, brother. You are my King and you are my best friend but she is my little girl. You don't look at her. You don't follow her."

Alaric stared at the lit window where Wren's silhouette was moving.

He should agree. It would be honorable.

Instead his voice came out wrecked and possessive: "I will not touch her. But I will not stay away. If I stay away, I will go insane, Elias. And if I go insane, this whole town burns. So I will watch. From far. Until she is ready to know."

Elias knew then — he had lost. Because when a Lycan King finds his fated mate, no oath, no friendship, no distance works.

That night, Wren woke up at 2 AM feeling like someone was watching her from the woods. Safe. Hunted. Claimed.

She looked out her new bedroom window.

Two amber eyes stared back, then vanished.