Chp 13

Demyan

I stood in the tall shadowed hall of our ancestral manor, cloaked in midnight-blue velvet and silver. The walls were lined with ancient tapestries worn by age, and candlelight danced across heirlooms of war and peace. Outside, the forest slept under a steel-gray sky, and I could faintly hear the wind racing through the trees. I am calm, I told myself. Years of training had taught me to wear calm like a second skin, each flicker of fear cooled by duty. On the marble hearth, embers smoldered quietly; each flicker was a heartbeat in the silence.

A soft rustle announced Sirek ’s arrival as he stepped into the hearthlight. The former Gamma’s broad shoulders and graying jaw were unmistakable even in the dim light. He bowed once, quietly. “My prince,” he said, tone respectful but edged with concern. “The scouts from the northern forest have brought news.” Despite myself, I felt a flicker of pride that he brought news directly to me. I gestured to a stone bench by the hearth and Sirek joined me. The firelight caught the scar above his eyebrow. I remembered him as my father’s adviser, steady through every storm.

We unrolled a parchment on the bench. Sirek traced a trembling line across the map with his finger. “The scouts report strange tracks, sire,” he said quietly, “as if a lone predator is marking our lands and testing our borders.” I leaned in, observing the three sets of unfamiliar scent-markings drawn in ink. The forest outside whispered through the windows, but inside I felt only silence and unease. A rival? I locked eyes with Sirek . His expression was grave. He continued, “Our pack is uneasy. Rumors stir of a new claimant to the Alpha’s throne.”

My jaw tightened. For a moment I simply stared at the map, tasting metal on my tongue. My heart hammered like a war drum beneath the steady fabric of my vest. A cold fire sparked in my veins. So this is how it begins. Three red X’s had appeared on our borders, each a challenge to my authority. I squared my shoulders. The loyalty that bound our pack seemed to fray at the edges. Before I could speak, Sirek placed a steady hand on my shoulder.

“Prince Demyan,” he said softly, “your father is old and weak. You must be cautious. Show them you are strong, but also wise in these times.” The weight of expectation in his voice would have crushed another man, but I only exhaled slowly, regaining my practiced calm. Inside, doubt crept under my skin and I willed it away. “I will see to it,” I said, voice low and steady. Beneath the words was iron resolve. Father had taught me everything; I would not let anyone question my readiness.

Sirek hesitated, then offered one more memory-laced warning: “Your father was much younger when he faced our first great challenge. Perhaps remember what he did then.” The image of my father, standing tall and fearless on the battlefield as night roared around him, pressed on my mind. My chest tightened. Father had been strong when I was a boy. Now he lay upstairs, frail and coughing in the sickbed we had prepared in the moonlit wing beyond reach. Anger flared briefly at myself for staying here in safety instead of by his side.

“When he can no longer see the dawn,” I said, voice firm, “I will be ready to greet it.” Not a trace of doubt colored my words. Sirek ’s shoulders softened; he understood that I meant to bear this weight as I must. I met his eyes. “I know your heart, Sirek ,” I added quietly. “Father taught me well—wisdom as well as strength.” I offered the faintest smile, grateful and defiant all at once. He bowed, patience etched in every line of his face, then stepped away.

The hall was quiet again. I walked to the great arched window overlooking the estate. Night wind rattled the old glass and stars reappeared behind drifting clouds. In the moonlit yard below, my pack lay restless, curled among the bracken. A single wolf rose and howled to the dark – a long, lonely question in the night air. To me, or to the secret that stalks between us? I pressed a hand against the window’s cool stone frame. Fear and pride warred inside me, but I willed myself steady.

The weight of my responsibility settled about my shoulders like the familiar clasp of my cloak. In the silence I felt the faint warmth of the gold ring on my finger – my father’s ring, soon to be mine. A fire burned in my bones. This pack is mine to protect. Blood of Alphas ran in my veins; whatever shadows rose against me, I would not flinch. Taking a deep breath, I let the night air fill my lungs. My shoulders straightened. It was only a matter of time before the crown truly settled on my brow.

I stepped back from the window, resolve hardening. A final ember dropped from the hearth, trailing sparks like stars into darkness. No matter what rivals lurked in the shadows, I would face them head-on. We will face it as one, I told myself. Turning from the light, I strode from the hall toward my destiny, alone but resolute.

I walked towards my father's room, the old wooden door was carved with a royal print, i hesitated before opening the door as I couldn't face my father, how should i give him the news that there is another wolf who is trying to take our entire empire and there is someone who is close to us involved in this. I took a deep breaths and entered the room, that's what I noticed my father sitting on the coach, he was pouring tea pot into his cup and he began to take a sip. “Sit Demyan, have some tea with me,’ he said in a soft voice without looking at me.

I walked towards him and took a seat in front of him, he poured some tea and placed it in front of me, I stared at the cup and then I looked at my father, “I wanted to convey and important message to you father,” i said with my head lowered.

“You don't need to Demyan, I already know what happening. Why are you troubled, we will find who that person. Remember Demyan never lose your cool because once you lose your cool you might lose the war,” he said in a calm voice while he slipped him tea.

He sat there so nonchalantly without any concern on his face. I wish if I can be like my father the bravest alpha of all-time

I didn't say anything and just say there quitly sar there without saying a word. “When are you going take a bride Demyan, it's hight time we need a luna for this pack and a future alpha after you,” he said in a serious voice.

I don't want to take a bride because I'm not interested in women right now, the ones had met were getting into my nerves so i scared them away and they left rumors about me that I'm a dangerous alpha and I kill my brides because the other brides who ran never came back and their families thought that they were dead. Good for me, all the ladies would be scared of me. “Let's have this conversation some other time father I need to find some clues”, saying that I left the room.

When I walked the streets I didn't expect a body to come flying from the wall and crash right into me. I was investigating the surroundings when someone—slammed into my chest like a sack of flour with limbs.

I staggered back slightly, not from the impact, but from sheer surprise. When I looked down, there was this wiry boy—too thin to be healthy—flat on my chest, arms flailing like a startled pup.

“Watch where you’re going,” I muttered, brushing the dirt off my coat with a frown.

But when he—lifted his face, I saw those wide, startled eyes. Unusual eyes. Too expressive for a boy. Still, I dismissed it.

He stammered an apology, cheeks red, and scrambled away like I was fire itself. It amused me.

Later that evening, when I saw him again at the inn—same nervous energy, same awkward movements—I couldn’t resist the urge to toy with him a little. Something about him was... entertaining. He reminded me of a rabbit dropped in a den of wolves.

“Kitten,” I called him. It slipped out naturally. He bristled like I’d insulted his entire bloodline. Even better.

But there was something else, too. A scent I couldn’t quite place, buried beneath the layers of fear and soap. My wolf stirred once, alert. I ignored it.

He was just a boy. Or so I thought.

For now, I’d play along. Watch him squirm. The truth always reveals itself eventually.

Perin is different from the other boys—there's something uniquely intriguing about him that draws me in. The way he reacts, the little quirks, the expressions—it's all so... cute. When he talks, I find myself getting lost in his words, wanting to know more, wanting to understand this guy better. And when I call him "kitten," the way he gets so angry—it’s like a trigger, and I can't help but love it.

During the competition, we had all agreed that we would protect Perin—he was holding the totem like his life depended on it. We crossed to the other side of the stream easily, but Perin hesitated. He was scared, so I made the decision to jump back and carry him across. But before I could, a massive hulk of a guy reached out and grabbed Perin by the collar.

I never expected to feel this kind of rage toward someone who wasn't even my friend, someone I'd only met recently. Seeing him hurt Perin, even though we barely knew each other, sparked something in me I hadn't anticipated. My blood boiled, and I was about to jump to the other side to stop him, but then the bastard threw Perin into the water. He fell from the waterfall.

My eyes widened, and I froze for a second, not knowing how to react. I didn’t even think—I just saw red. Seeing him fall, knowing how dangerous it could be, made everything inside me snap. How could someone be so reckless? How could they hurt someone so... vulnerable?

The moment Perin’s body vanished beneath the crashing water, my heart dropped. I didn’t think—there was no time to think.

“Hold my weapons,” I barked at Killian and threw myself over the edge.

The roar of the waterfall swallowed everything, but all I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat thundering in my chest. The current was violent, cold claws dragging me under, spinning me like a leaf. I forced my eyes open underwater, desperately searching through the murky chaos.

There—a glimpse of fabric, a sleeve caught on a branch.

I surged forward, lungs burning, arms slicing through the water with raw force until I reached him. Perin. Limp. Unmoving. His eyes were shut and his face was pale. No. No, no, no.

I grabbed him and kicked up with every ounce of strength left in me. We broke the surface—he wasn’t breathing.

“Come on, kitten,” I growled through clenched teeth as I dragged him to the rocky bank. “Don’t you dare pull this trick on me.”

I laid him down and pressed my ear to his chest. Faint. So faint. I started chest compressions, my hands trembling.

“One... two... come on!”

I didn’t know when my voice started to crack. I didn’t care. He wasn’t just some boy anymore. He had become something I couldn’t define. Fragile. Infuriating. Important.

Then he coughed.

Water splashed out of his mouth, he was not opening his eyes so i thought it would be better to take off his clothes as I began to open his buttons, his hand grabbed my hand stopping me, he slowly opened his eyes.

I collapsed beside him, soaking and breathless. Relief hit me so hard I had to grit my teeth to stay composed.

“You better thank me properly for this,” I muttered, masking the quake in my voice with sarcasm. “Risked my royal neck for a brat who can’t even jump a stream.”

He blinked up at me, dazed. “I... fell?”

I chuckled despite myself, brushing wet strands from his forehead. “Yeah. But I caught you.”

And for a brief moment, watching him breathe again, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time—peace.