The Lost Queen

Chapter Twelve

Alpha Ryan's P.O.V.

(The Night of the Attack)

"The Crimson Moon Pack has been causing a lot of trouble these days, son. What do you think we should do with them?" My father asked, leaning back in his massive leather chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass before taking a slow sip.

I scoffed, resting my arms on the edge of his desk. "We wipe them out before they get the chance to make a move on us. Hit them at dawn—while they sleep. No mercy, no survivors." A smirk tugged at my lips as I leaned forward.

My father chuckled darkly, raising his glass toward me. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."

We clinked glasses, drinking to the bloodshed to come.

I am Alpha Ryan, the future leader of the Blood Moon Pack. At nineteen years old, I am already feared among my people, and I make damn sure of it. My pack? They obey. They don't question me, and if they do, they don't live long enough to regret it.

The Crimson Moon Pack has been a thorn in our side for too long, and it's time to put them in their place.

The Royals used to be our biggest rivals—until we took their future queen, Allison Winston.

Of course, no one in my pack knows the truth. To them, she's just Daya Grace, the pathetic orphan we took in out of pity. The girl we forced into submission, broke, and shaped into nothing more than a servant. We made sure no one questioned her existence, no one wondered where she came from. And the few that knew the truth? They were loyal or dead.

When she shifted at five, we had a problem. That mark—her mark—could have exposed everything. We silenced it. Stripped her of her power, force-fed her silver, weakened her to the point where her wolf barely whispered inside her. She became a runt. An outcast. Our personal punching bag.

It was perfect.

Or, at least, I thought it was—until the day I turned eighteen. Until the day I realized she wasn't mine.

I wanted her to be mine. Fuck, I prayed to the Moon Goddess, begged her to make it so. If she had been my mate, I would have been unstoppable. King of the Wolves. No one would have dared to challenge me. The power I would have wielded with a royal mate at my side—unimaginable.

But when the bond never snapped into place, when my wolf remained silent and unmoved by her, I saw red. She should have been mine. She was supposed to be mine. Instead, the Moon Goddess cursed me. Denied me what was rightfully so. That night I lashed out, forcing her into my bed, taking out my frustrations the only way I knew how—by breaking her further. By making sure she knew that, mate or not, she belonged to me.

A low growl rumbled in my chest at the memory, my grip tightening around the glass in my hand.

Then—it happened.

A howl. Loud, piercing, angry. It rattled the windows, made the very walls of the pack house tremble.

My father snapped upright, eyes widening as the sound settled deep into our bones. A howl of war.

I shot to my feet, my heart hammering. "What the fuck was that?"

My father's expression darkened, his glass shattering against the floor as he barked out, "Get the girl!"

Daya.

I didn't hesitate, bolting from the office and down the hall. My pulse thundered in my ears. I needed to get to her before they did.