The Royal Alpha

Chapter 28: Old Scars

FENRIS

"Our creator, the Moon Goddess, has finally decided to bless us—to grant our kind renewed hope."

My voice remains steady as I read aloud, though every word feels heavier than the last.

"The long-awaited search for one's mate has come to a still. The future Alphas of two packs have been blessed with their mates, offering reassurance that our species will thrive and that new pups will once again be born."

I pause briefly, then continue, aware of the weight each name carries.

"You are invited to bear witness and offer your blessings at the mating ceremonies of
Lycidas Volkov, future Alpha of the Moon Stone Pack, with Caliana Farkas, Alpha's daughter of the Mystic Shadow Pack.
Aztec Shaw, future Alpha of the Samara Pack, with Avery Lowell, Beta's daughter of the Moon Stone Pack."

The words feel distant, ceremonial—crafted to inspire hope, unity, continuity.

"As the newly found mates are still in training, the Elders have decided to make this a public ceremony to celebrate the first two matings in over two decades. The ceremony will take place on the school grounds on the eve of the full moon."

I lower the letter slowly, folding it with deliberate care before setting it aside.

The room is quiet.

Too quiet.

I don't allow myself to linger on what isn't written there, yet the absence is deafening. My name does not appear among the blessed. And neither does hers.

I tell myself it shouldn't matter. Of course it shouldn't. The Elders would never celebrate the mating of an adopted son of a Beta pair—especially not one whose lineage has only recently come under scrutiny. I have no title. No recognized claim. No place in a public narrative meant to reassure the packs.

And yet—

Lycidas found his mate.
Aztec found his.

Both after decades of silence.

And so did I.

The thought tightens something sharp and aching in my chest. For a fleeting, foolish moment, I had allowed myself to believe—just a little—that my mating might be acknowledged alongside theirs. That perhaps the Elders, seeing three bonds emerge where there had been none, would recognize the significance of it.

How desperately do I want to show her to the world.

To stand beside her beneath the full moon. To let the packs see what I see. To claim her openly, without restraint or hesitation, and prove—to everyone, and to myself—that I have finally found the one person who belongs to me in the truest sense of the word.

Mine.

The desire is fierce, almost painful in its intensity.

But reality intrudes quickly.

It has been two weeks since Alpha Zacharias revealed the truth—his truth—about my supposed heritage. Two weeks since the word prince was laid at my feet like an accusation rather than a gift.

And I don't believe it.

There may have been a prince once. A Lucian, perhaps. A figure buried in legend and bloodshed.

But I am not his son.

I refuse to accept that my life—every fracture, every silence, every carefully hidden truth—has been shaped by a crown I never asked for and do not recognize.