FENRIS
"Good morning, warriors."
Elder Aamruq's voice cuts cleanly through the training grounds, sharp enough to silence even the most restless wolves among us.
"I have called this meeting to inform you that we will be receiving six new trainees today," he continues. "They may very well be the last generation of young wolves to begin warrior training here."
The weight of that statement settles heavily in the air.
"They will arrive this evening. I expect every one of you to behave appropriately. These pups are new to this school and its rules. There will be no bullying. No dominance games. No testing boundaries."
His gaze hardens.
"Is that clear?"
"Yes, Sir," we reply in unison, voices echoing with practiced discipline.
~~~~~~~~
Connor falls into step beside me as we leave the meeting hall, his shoulders slumped, expression sour.
"What do you think about these trainees?" he asks, clearly fishing for something he already fears.
I know exactly why he's asking.
"You'll know if your mate is among them, Lupe," I say calmly. "According to Elder Raoul, our wolves recognize the presence of our mates long before we do. If your mate is one of these trainees, your wolf would've reacted by now."
I glance at him. "Did it?"
Connor scowls. "My wolf has been sulking for weeks. Everyone says mating numbers are down because there aren't enough new births. I've started wondering if my mate hasn't even been born yet."
I chuckle.
He promptly smacks the back of my head.
"You're impossible," he mutters, storming ahead. "You don't even care if you find your mate."
I sense him before I see him.
Elder Raoul.
The air around him always feels heavier, older—like standing too close to something ancient and unmovable. I slow my pace instinctively, letting Connor walk ahead without me.
"Fenris," Raoul says from behind me.
There is no accusation in his voice. No command either.
Just... expectation.
"Do you believe your mate is among the incoming trainees?" he asks quietly.
No riddles. Never with me.
"I haven't thought about finding my mate," I answer honestly. "I have more pressing concerns."
Raoul studies me the way he always does—not as an elder assessing an apprentice, but as someone looking at a boy he helped raise.
"You carry the weight of not knowing who you are," he says. "And yet you pretend that burden does not shape every choice you make."
I clench my jaw.
"I am an outsider even in my own pack," I admit. "In a world where bloodlines define strength, not knowing my heritage makes me... less."
Raoul's expression tightens—not in anger, but in something closer to pain.
"If you are not with your mate yet," he says gently, "it is because neither of you were ready for what that bond would demand."
I scoff quietly. "You speak as if you are certain I have a mate."
YOU ARE READING
The Royal Alpha
WerewolfThe Royal Family was wiped out two decades ago by a rogue, leaving behind chaos and a supposed curse in the werewolf world. Today after twenty years, the last of the young werewolves arrive at the Werewolf Camp for training and this is where the st...
