Mag-log inHe was supposed to be a cold pack treaty. Instead, he became my Worst Hell. As a Young Wolf Scholar of the Nielsen Moonfang Pack, I knew my destiny was already written. I was bound by a sacred mate bond to Magnus Andersen—the terrifying Future Alpha King of the Silverclaw Throne. Magnus is cold, unyielding, and rules the Silverclaw Royal Citadel with an iron fist. To him, I was nothing but a pack alliance. Desperate to feel wanted for just one night before surrendering my freedom, I made a reckless mistake. I stepped into the Moonrest Royal Lodge to meet another wolf. But nobody hides from the Future Alpha King. When Magnus catches me, his golden alpha eyes don't just flash with anger—they burn with a dark, possessive fury. In a flash of raw dominance, he rips me away from danger, claims my innocence, and forces me into his royal bed. Now, there is no escape from his heavy touch. I am trapped in his citadel, completely consumed by an ancient moon bloodline and a ruthless Alpha who vows to breed me raw and fill my womb with his royal cubs before we even reach the sacred lunar shrine. I thought I was playing with fire. But tonight, my Alpha is going to burn me whole.
view moreStevens POV
"Your music sounds like magic tonight, young wolf," Noah says, holding open the door to the dressing room.
My hands shake as I put my violin case down on the table. My heart goes fast, hitting my ribs hard.
"Did you see Magnus in the front row?" I ask, my voice small and tight.
"The Future Alpha King does not usually come to the Moonsong Arena," Noah says, stepping closer to me. "But he never takes his grey eyes off you."
"He only looks at me because of the sacred mate bond," I say, looking down at the heavy moonstone ring on my finger. "My father Tronte Nielsen forced this alliance on us."
"You are twenty-four now, Stevens," Noah whispers, his hand touching my shoulder. "Next year you must marry him and join the Andersen Silverclaw Royal Pack."
"I remember when I was eighteen," I say, my breath catching in my throat. "My father slammed his fist on the big table at Moonfang Manor and yelled at me."
"What did the Supreme Alpha King say to you back then?" Noah asks.
"He told me playing music was a huge distraction," I say, my chest feeling tight as I remember the fear. "He said no male wolf of the Nielsen Moonfang Pack would waste his time on a stage, and that my only job was to stay in the Alpha's den."
"But you ran away that night," Noah says, his voice very low.
"I ran all the way to the Silverclaw Royal Citadel at midnight," I say, my face getting hot. "I knocked on Magnus's door because I was desperate for freedom."
"Did the Crown Alpha Heir get angry with you?" Noah asks.
"He opened the door and he had nothing on but a small towel around his waist," I say, swallowing hard as my body feels a sudden heat. "His skin was wet from the shower, and his big chest made my knees shake so much I could barely stand."
"What did he say to you?" Noah asks.
"He looked at me with his sharp grey eyes and asked what the fuck I was doing there so late alone," I say, my hands gripping the edge of the table. "I told him I ran away because my father wanted to lock me in a cage and stop my music."
"And Magnus helped you?" Noah asks.
"He told me to come inside," I say, nodding fast. "He stood there with his arms crossed over his bare chest and told me to play my violin right then to prove I was not wasting his time."
"Were you scared?" Noah asks.
"I was so scared my fingers felt like ice," I say. "But I played with everything I had, and when I finished, he called the Moonsong Bard Guild and signed me immediately."
"He bought you your freedom," Noah says, moving even closer until I can smell his cologne. "He paid for your scholar years."
"He told me it was because I wear his ring," I say, my heart thumping. "He said he wanted me to come to his bed without any regrets."
"Magnus is a cold wolf, Stevens," Noah whispers, his eyes looking down at my lips. "He has never even touched you in all these years, but I am here right now."
"Noah, do not," I say, backing up until my legs hit the chair.
"You do not have to be lonely tonight," Noah says, reaching out to touch my face. "Let me help you forget about the cold Alpha King."
"Get your hands off him and get out," a deep, angry growl barks from the doorway.
My whole body freezes as the heavy door slams against the wall. Magnus stands there, his huge frame filling the entire space, his jaw tight and full of pure fury.
"Alpha Magnus," Noah stammers, his face turning completely white as he jumps backward. "I was only saying great job to him."
"Get out before I tear your throat out," Magnus says, his voice like cracking ice.
Noah runs past him like a scared pup, not even looking back as the door clicks shut behind him. The air in the room gets super hot and heavy, making it hard for me to breathe.
"You did not have to scare my advisor like that," I say, crossing my arms to hide how much my hands are shaking.
Magnus steps toward me, his grey eyes locking onto mine like a predator catching its prey. He looks down at my body, his chest rising and falling fast under his dark suit.
"Yes, I did," Magnus says, his voice rough and deep.
"Did you actually enjoy my performance tonight at the Moonsong Grand Hall, Alpha?" I ask, trying to sound brave.
"It was not your best," Magnus says, his lips tightening into a hard line.
My jaw drops open and I stare at him, my anger suddenly flaring up hotter than my fear.
“The Keep is getting crowded, Rafe,” a smooth, aged voice observes quietly.I keep my eyes fixed on the darkening mountains, watching the shadow of a solitary hawk soaring above the canopy. “She’s pack, Silas.”“You’re certain her presence won't prove to be a distraction?” Silas Kensington asks, his tone measured and calm as he steps into the room.“She’s family,” I growl, my inner wolf stirring beneath my ribs, sending a sharp wave of heat through my veins. “She’s not going anywhere, if that’s what you’re implying.”“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort, Rafe,” Silas replies easily. He leans his hands on the brass head of his walking stick, his sharp eyes reflecting the twilight through his spectacles. “The evidence we uncovered regarding the northern border dispute… it proved useful, did it not?”“The proof that we found,” I correct him, turning around slowly and taking a sip of whiskey. “Though I still have my doubts about how deep it goes.”“Jameson is obviously deeply entwined
“You’re early, Marlowe.”I don't look up from the leather-bound ledger resting on my heavy dark-oak desk, but the scent of mountain pine and crushed juniper arrives seconds before the gentle, mechanical whir of the wheels rolling across the stone floor of my study.“Pfft. I was bored with the Volkov Territory,” Marlowe says, her voice lacing through the quiet space with a dry, teasing purr. She stops her wheelchair right beside my desk, grinning as she looks up at me with bright, sharp eyes. “Trust me, Rafe, a little time near the frozen borderlands goes a damn long way.”I chuckle, setting my pen down before dropping to one knee to wrap my arms around her shoulders in a tight embrace. “It’s good to have you back, kid.”“Good to be back,” she murmurs, hugging me back tightly before pulling away with a theatrical wink. “Now, where’s the real greeting? Are we drinking or what?”I rise, dusting off my jeans as I stride across the polished flagstone toward the crystal decanters resting ne
“Put some ice on that lip before it swells to the size of a grapefruit, Jameson,” I growl, wiping a smear of dark blood from my knuckles as the heavy iron doors of the holding cell slam shut.My inner wolf is still clawing furiously against my ribs, thrashing in the dark boundaries of my skull. He wants gore. He wants to tear out throats. He wants to drag the two trespassers straight out to the tree line of Silverfang Keep and let the border patrols feast on their bones.Instead, I just stand here in the damp, torchlit basement corridor, my chest heaving as I adjust the leather straps across my forearms.“You really think dropping their pack ranks and locking them in guest quarters is going to stop a rebellion?” Beckett mutters, leaning his spine against the rough stone wall. He tosses a small silver blade into the air, catching it effortlessly by the hilt. “They’re old-blood alphas, Rafe. They don’t respect mercy. They respect a severed head mounted on a pike at the edge of the Blood
“Hey, Rafe.”I keep staring at my phone screen, watching the little typing bubble flicker beneath his contact name before disappearing into nothing. He started to type a response after I completely shut down the link connection, then ended up backing out.Fuck. I’m way too wrapped up in this.“Rafe!”I scowl as my eyes snap up. Beckett is grinning at me, that dangerous, unhinged glint dancing in his irises that always means he is itching to stir up chaos, blood, or outright violence in the pack house.Calling me “Rafe” instead of my formal title is his juvenile way of testing my patience.The most infuriating part is that it actually gets to me.Not because I care deeply about being called the Enforcer outside official pack ceremonies—titles have their place in ancient traditions, sure—but because I know he is deliberately trying to be an absolute dickhead. That alone rubs me the wrong way.“Did you ever consider growing past the age of twelve?”Beckett taps his jaw in fake contemplat












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