Chapter 2_Donald

Donald's POV

Power had never felt like a blessing to me. Even as a child, I understood that it was something inherited through blood and paid for with sacrifice. The night my parents died, that understanding became permanent.

The pack was told it had been a rogue attack, sudden and merciless, a tragedy that no one could have prevented. The elders repeated that story until it settled into the walls of the territory like an accepted truth. But I stood over my parents’ bodies and saw the precision of the wounds, the calculated timing, and the unmistakable signs of betrayal. Rogues did not strike with that kind of planning. Someone had wanted them dead, and someone powerful enough had succeeded.

I took the throne with grief still burning in my chest and blood barely dry on my hands. I did not have the luxury of mourning. The moment the crown settled on my head, the council began to circle, watching, measuring, and waiting for weakness they believed would surely come.

But It never did.

I ruled with discipline, not softness. I enforced the laws without hesitation, and I answered defiance with consequences that could not be misunderstood. Fear, I realized quickly, was a language every wolf understood, and under my rule, the pack remained stable, if not comfortable.

Still, the council was never satisfied.

They began with polite suggestions during meetings, comments delivered with practiced smiles and lowered voices. They spoke of balance, of tradition, of the Moon Goddess’s design for leadership. Again and again, the same message surfaced beneath their words.

'An Alpha without a Luna was vulnerable.'

“You cannot stand alone forever, Alpha Donald,” Elder Magnus said one evening, folding his hands together as if he were offering wisdom instead of pressure. “The Moon favors unity.”

“The Moon has been silent,” I replied calmly. “And I will not pretend otherwise.”

A heavy and disapproving silence followed my words. I had waited for a mate in my youth, as every wolf did, had searched for that pull everyone spoke of, that sense of completion promised by fate. It never came. Over time, hope faded into indifference, and indifference hardened into resolve.

Fate had failed me. I refused to fail myself.

When whispers of rebellion surfaced, I crushed them swiftly. When traitors revealed themselves among the guards, I executed them publicly, ensuring the pack understood that loyalty under my rule was not optional. Even then, the council persisted, patient and calculating.

The ultimatum came on a night washed in silver moonlight.

“If you do not take a Luna,” Magnus said quietly as we stood alone in the council chamber, “the elders may be forced to reconsider your position.”

I met his gaze without flinching. “Then you would be wise to consider how that ends.”

He smiled thinly, but there was fear beneath it.

That night, I stood on the balcony of the estate, staring up at the Moon that had given me nothing. I did not pray or beg, I only acknowledged the truth.

If the Moon would not choose for me, then I would choose for myself.

The next morning, I summoned my Beta.

Rowan Black arrived promptly, his expression alert and respectful. He had stood beside me through bloodshed and rebellion, through victories and losses alike. If anyone would understand my decision, it was him.

“I need you to find me a bride,” I told him.

Rowan paused, clearly weighing his words. “A Luna, sir?”

“No,” I said evenly. “I need a wife in name only. A bride for rent.”

His brows furrowed slightly, though he did not interrupt.

“The council wants a symbol,” I continued. “Someone to stand beside me so they can no longer question my authority. They want balance. I will give them the illusion of it.”

Rowan crossed his arms. “What kind of woman?”

“One who will not interfere in pack politics,” I replied. “One who has no allies, no ambition, and no power the council can manipulate. This will be a contract, not a union. She will exist to secure my throne, nothing more.”

“And if the Moon intervenes?” Rowan asked carefully.

I allowed myself a slow breath. “The Moon has had years to speak. It chose silence. I will not gamble my rule on a goddess who refuses to answer.”

Rowan studied me for a long moment before nodding. “I understand.”

“Find someone human if possible,” I added. “Someone the pack will see but never fear.”

Rowan inclined his head. “I will begin immediately.”

When he left, the chamber felt unusually still. I told myself it was satisfaction I felt, that the problem had been solved efficiently and without sentiment. Yet even as I returned to my duties, an unfamiliar tension settled in my chest, quiet and persistent.

I ignored it.

This was not about love. It was not about fate or comfort or the Moon’s will. This was about survival, control, and ensuring that no one ever tried to take my throne the way they had taken my parents’ lives.

Whatever woman Rowan brought to me would be a means to an end.

Nothing more.