2. WEIGHT OF THE CROWN

The meeting room was cold.

Not in temperature—in atmosphere.

Around the long mahogany table sat elders and advisors who had witnessed decades of pack politics, wars, treaties and betrayals. Their eyes remained fixed on the young Alpha-in-line at the head of the table.

Alaric Blackwood met their gazes one by one. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

But inside him, something was tightening.

Elder Marlow spoke first, his voice rough with age. “The pack is thriving, Alaric. Trade routes are secure. Territory is stable. Our people are fed and housed.”

A pause.

“But stability isn't growth. And growth requires leadership—the kind that comes from a united front.”

Alaric said nothing. He knew where this was going.

Elder Vasquez leaned forward. “You’re twenty-nine now. Your father became Alpha at twenty-five. Your grandfather before him became Alpha at twenty-three. The pack needs an heir, Alaric. It needs stability. It needs to see that the future is secure.”

Alaric’s jaw tightened. “I am aware of what the pack needs.”

“Are you?” Marlow’s voice sharpened. “Because we’ve been waiting. We’ve been patient. But patience has its limits.”

Warrick Ashford sat near the middle of the table, his expression unreadable. His family had maintained close ties with the Blackwoods for years—both through the packs and through business. Their territories were relatively close, and their families had been discussing a formal alliance for longer than Alaric cared to remember.

The Ashford territory bordered one of the Blackwood pack’s neighboring regions, making the proposed alliance more than a political arrangement. It would strengthen territory, trade and influence on both sides.

Alaric knew exactly what that alliance meant.

Bianca.

Alaric’s gaze flicked to him, then away.

“We are not asking for an immediate decision,” Elder Vasquez continued, her tone softer but no less firm. “We are asking for a direction. A sign that you are considering the future. The pack needs to know their Alpha-in-waiting is ready to lead.”

Alaric rose from his chair. The elders fell silent.

“I will give you an answer,” he said, his voice flat. “When I have one.”

He walked out before anyone could respond.

*****

The pack grounds stretched before him, vast and green, dotted with homes and training grounds and the quiet rhythm of daily life. Wolves moved through the territory—some in human form, some in fur—going about their business, raising their families, living their lives.

The Blackwood pack territory was only a short drive from the city, but the distance had always been enough to create a clear divide between pack life and the outside world. Alaric had grown up here, surrounded by the same expectations that now seemed to follow him everywhere.

Alaric walked along, but he felt separate. Detached. Like a ghost haunting his own home.

A group of children ran past him, laughing, chasing a ball. He watched them for a moment, something aching in his chest.

They’re all waiting for me.

He’d felt the weight of their expectations his entire life. The elders, the pack, his father—everyone had a vision of who he was supposed to be. The perfect Alpha. The strong leader. The dutiful son.

But no one had ever bothered to ask.

He walked past the training grounds. A group of young wolves were sparring, their movements sharp and precise. One of them—a young male, barely sixteen—landed a hit on his opponent and grinned with pride.

Alaric remembered being that young. Remembered the certainty he’d felt back then. The belief that he knew exactly who he was and what he was meant to become.

Now, he wasn’t sure of anything.

“Nice of you to join the living.”

Alaric turned. Flynn, his best friend, was walking toward him, his usual easy grin in place. He fell into step beside Alaric, matching his pace.

“I was at the meeting,” Alaric said flatly.

“I figured.” Flynn shoved his hands in his pockets. “I could hear the tension from outside. Did you kill anyone?”

“Not yet.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to find a new Alpha.”

Alaric almost smiled. Almost.

They walked in silence for a moment, passing through the heart of the pack. Wolves nodded to Alaric as they passed—respectful, expectant. Always expectant.

Flynn noticed. He noticed everything.

“How bad was it?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

“The usual,” Alaric said. “They need an heir. They need stability. They need a direction.” He paused. “They need me to become something I’m not sure I want to be.”

“You know you don’t actually have to give them everything they ask for, right?” Flynn said.

Alaric shook his head.

“That’s not how being Alpha works.”

“No,” Flynn agreed. “It’s not. But you’re not alone in this.”

They walked past the pack hall, where families were gathering for the evening meal. The smell of cooking drifted through the air—warm, familiar, grounding. Alaric watched a father lift his child onto his shoulders, the little girl laughing as she pointed at something in the sky.

He’s just a man. But he’s also Alpha. And his daughter will grow up with that legacy.

Alaric stopped walking. Flynn stopped with him.

“What?” Flynn asked.

Alaric didn’t answer immediately. He was staring at the father and daughter, something tight in his chest.

“I see them,” he said quietly. “Every day. The families. The children. The wolves who look to me for leadership. And I know—” He stopped.

“Know what?”

“I know I should be grateful. Honored, even.” He paused. “But instead, I feel—”

“Trapped?” Flynn offered.

Alaric looked at him. “How did you know?”

Flynn shrugged. “Because I’ve known you for years. And I’ve never seen you look more miserable than when you’re being told you have to do the thing everyone expects you to do.”

Alaric exhaled slowly. “I don’t want Bianca.”

“It's not because she's done anything wrong. She's fine. She'd make a good Luna.”

Flynn glanced at him.

“But?”

Alaric was silent for a moment.

“I don't want her.”

“You don’t love her.” Flynn’s voice was gentle. “I know that too.”

Alaric was quiet for a long moment. Then: “I don't know if I can give her what everyone expects.”

Flynn didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

They stood in silence, watching the pack move around them. Wolves passed, nodding respectfully. Children laughed. The sun was warm on their faces.

Then Flynn pulled out his phone. He glanced at it, his expression flickering.

Alaric noticed. “Everything okay?”

Flynn’s thumb hovered over the screen. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.

“Yeah,” he said, pocketing the phone. “Nothing important.”

He smiled—that easy, uncomplicated smile that made everyone trust him.

But Alaric had known Flynn for many years. He knew when something was off. Still, he didn’t push.

“I need a break from this place,” Alaric said finally. “Three weeks. Maybe less.”

Flynn considered this. “The city branch has been asking for you. The acquisition has been sitting on your desk for weeks, and your father has been overseeing things through the regional director.”

Alaric looked at him. “You think I should go.”

“You haven’t been there in years,” Flynn pointed out. “Your father has been letting the regional director handle most of the operations. Maybe it’s time you actually see what you’ve been neglecting.”

Alaric frowned.

“I’ve been busy.”

“You’ve been avoiding it. There’s a difference.”

A brief silence followed.

“I'll head to the city first thing Monday.” Alaric said.

Flynn nodded. “I’ll make the arrangements.”

The Blackwoods had maintained a strong presence there for decades. Their businesses stretched across several industries, and the city branch was one of their most profitable operations. Alaric simply hadn't had much reason to visit in recent years.

Perhaps that was exactly what he needed.

He walked away, pulling out his phone. This time, he didn’t hesitate.

“He’s leaving for Ravenwood. Monday.”

He hit send before he could stop himself. And then he pocketed the phone and went back inside.

*****

Later that night, Alaric stood at the window of his study, staring out at the pack grounds. The lights of the homes flickered in the distance, warm and alive.

He thought about the meeting. The elders. Warrick Ashford’s silent presence.

He thought about Bianca. The woman everyone expected him to marry. The Luna the pack needed.

He thought about the children running through the grounds. The families. The legacy he was meant to carry.

And he thought about the weight of it all—the burden of being born first, of being chosen before he’d ever had a choice.

“I'll go to Ravenwood City,” he told himself. “I'll breathe. I'll think.”

It had been years since he'd properly visited Ravenwood City. Maybe being somewhere familiar—but far enough from the pack grounds and its constant expectations—was exactly what he needed.”

He'd deal with the elders when he returned.

For now, he just needed three weeks away.

He didn’t know that three weeks in Ravenwood would leave him with far more than an answer.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

🎧 SPEAK UP! What do you think about Alaric so far? Cold, arrogant, or just under too much pressure? 👀

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🔮 PREDICTION: What do you think Flynn's mysterious message was about? 👀

🎤 RANDOM QUESTION: What's your favorite comfort food when you're stressed? 🍜

Thank you for reading! 😍❤️ See you in the next chapter!