ALPHA MARRIED A STRIPPER

The mahogany table had seen better days. So had the Thornwell name.

Kadence sat at the head of it, fingers steepled under his chin, watching the pack elders argue over his life like he'd already vacated the seat. He was twenty-six. Built like something carved out of granite. And they were talking about him like he needed help tying his shoes.

"The pack needs stability." Elder Meredith's voice had the texture of dry bark. She'd been old when Kadence was born. She'd probably outlive the sun. "Your father is... indisposed."

*Indisposed.* The word sat in his mouth like copper. A polite way of saying Garrison Thornwell was face-down in his own sick somewhere at two in the afternoon.

"The Alpha position requires a mated pair." Elder Tobias didn't look up when he said it. His whole face was one long expression of disappointment. "You cannot ascend without a Luna. That is pack law."

"I know the law, Tobias." Kadence's voice dropped low, low enough that the water in the glasses trembled. "I was reciting the Code of Succession while you were still growing your first gray hair."

The room shifted. Pine and ozone rolled off his skin, the smell of a storm with nowhere to go. Under the table, his claws found the underside of the wood and sank in.

Tobias pushed anyway. "You've been searching for eight years. Meanwhile, your father's drinking has become an embarrassment. We lost two trade agreements this quarter because Garrison showed up drunk to negotiations."

The shame hit like it always did, fast, familiar, and right below the ribs. He'd been swallowing that particular cocktail since he was twelve.

"I'm handling my father." Too quiet. His irises bled from amber to gold. The wolf inside him pressed against his chest, restless and furious, wanting to shut the whole room up in one clean motion.

"You've been handling him for fourteen years." Meredith said it gently, which made it worse. "The pack can't keep waiting, Kadence. If you can't find your fated mate, you need to choose one."

He stood. The chair shrieked back against the floorboards. Tobias flinched.

"Seraphine Castellane would be a strong choice," Meredith continued, holding his gaze. "Good bloodline. Sharp mind. She'd make a fine Luna."

There it was. The trap, fully closed. Seraphine was kind. She deserved someone who could offer her a real bond, not a hollowed-out Alpha making a political transaction and calling it marriage.

"I am nothing like my father." The words came out animal. Low. Vibrating in his throat.

Tobias stood too, smaller, older, utterly unbothered by the size difference. "Then prove it. Find your mate. Or choose one." He let the silence stretch. "Thirty days."

The air went still.

Thirty days was a death sentence.

"Understood." Kadence retracted his claws, the sting sharp at his fingertips. He buttoned his jacket one button at a time, slow and deliberate, and walked out before either of them could see his hands start to shake.

---

Ronan caught up in the hallway, footsteps quick on the marble.

Kadence didn't slow down. If he stopped moving, he'd put his fist through something. The pack house already had enough holes from his father's rages. He wasn't adding to that legacy.

"Thirty days is insane, Kade." Ronan matched his pace. "They can't just force you to grab someone off the shelf and call her your Luna."

"They just did."

He hit the front doors hard and stepped outside. The October air came at him cold and sharp. It didn't help. The fire in his blood had nowhere to go.

The pack house sat on twenty acres of Thornwell land, backed by forest the family had held for generations. It should've felt like home. It felt like a box he couldn't get out of.

Ronan stopped at the edge of the driveway. "So what's the plan?"

Kadence stared at the tree line. Somewhere in those woods, his father was probably stumbling through the brush with something in his hand. Somewhere east, the twins, Saskia and Rhydian, were living their lives as proof that a Thornwell's promises meant nothing when a vice was involved.

And somewhere in the northern cottage, Mirelle Thornwell was quietly disappearing. His mother. Rotting away at the edge of the territory because she'd loved a man who didn't have the discipline to be a king.

"I'm going to find her," Kadence said. Rough. Certain. "I have to. The alternative..." He stopped.

He couldn't say it out loud. Couldn't admit that what terrified him most wasn't failing the pack. It was becoming his father.

"You'll find her." Ronan said it easy, the way people say things when they've already found what they were looking for. Two years mated, happy in a way that made something ache behind Kadence's sternum every time he saw it.

He wanted that. The bone-deep recognition that was supposed to be his birthright. But eight years of searching had turned up nothing. Not even a flicker. He was starting to wonder if the Moon Goddess had looked at the rot in his bloodline and decided the Thornwell curse ended with him.

"Come out with me tonight," Ronan said.

Kadence looked at him.

"Not to drink. Just to breathe. We'll get off the territory for a few hours." Ronan shrugged. "When's the last time you did something that wasn't for the pack?"

He thought about it. Really tried to find a night. Came up empty.

"You think too much," Ronan said. "You're so busy being the perfect heir you've forgotten there's a world outside your office. Maybe your mate isn't at a council meeting. Maybe she's out there somewhere wondering why you never showed up."

Kadence felt his jaw ease, just slightly. "My head is not in my office."

"Close enough." Ronan grinned. "One night. Worst case, you come home in the same mood you're already in."

Three rules. That was all Kadence had kept to.

No clubs. No strippers. No becoming Garrison Thornwell.

They were the only things standing between him and the abyss.

He looked at the forest. Then back at the house that felt like a tomb.

Thirty days. He might as well have one last meal.

"Fine. One night."

Ronan clapped him on the shoulder. "That's what I'm talking about. I know a place, rough around the edges, but the whiskey's cold and the company's better than anything in this house."