C2

"You actually think a stray like that bought a Black Snake Vrig leather vest?"

The sneer echoes across the manicured courtyard of Sterling Wolf Manor. I stand on the edge of the lower lawn, my throat tight with the scent of roasted stag and high-ranking omega pheromones. My half-sister, Tahlia Sterling, stands near the ornamental water fountains, preening beneath the gazes of a dozen high-born pack scions. She’s draped in the latest winter-cut pelt from the Condex elite lines, a garment that costs more than an entire year of hunting rations in the Ashgrove Wildlands.

"It looks flawless on your frame, Tahl," a sub-alpha from the Vinqlo border packs purrs, nudging her shoulder. "I heard klinton had to pull favors from the high elders just to get that hide imported for your transformation ceremony. Your father treats you like a true Alpha heir."

"The Bloodfang Raiders have been cleared from our borders, and now this?" another socialite chimes in, holding a goblet of fermented blood-wine. "Happy twentieth winter, Tahlia. Word is the supreme pack masters have already shortlisted you for a command seat this season. Don't forget the lesser lineages when you're running the territories."

"The wildlands are a playground for those who know how to rule," Tahlia says, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness as she adjusts the silver clasp on her collar. "Excuse me while I check on the ritual meats. The crescent moon is almost full."

She turns toward the main stone archway, nearly flattening her mother, Mirelle Voss, who is hurrying out from the inner den.

"Mom," Tahlia murmurs, dropping her voice to a low, pack-frequency vibration that barely carries over the wind. "Have the trackers from the Ashgrove border returned? It's my ascension night. If the pack elders discover that the true-blood male heir our family dumped in the rogue lands is still breathing, the council will strip our territory rights."

Mirelle reaches out, smoothing the thick fur on Tahlia's shoulder with a cold, clawed finger. "Silence is the only report we need. The silver-tipped blades of the Raiders don't leave survivors. Even if that weakling survived the Blacktide Waters, he’s been feral for ten winters. What can a broken country omega do against a fortified manor?"

"I almost wish he would crawl back," Tahlia whispers, a vicious glint entering her golden eyes. "Just so the elders can watch me challenge him for the bloodline right and tear his throat out myself."

"Bad news, Luna Mirelle!" the pack beta barks, bursting through the iron gates with his chest heaving, his wolf scent spiked with pure terror. "A Duskbane Shadowcraft just breached our airspace. It's coming down on the north lawn."

"The Duskbane lineage?" Tahlia’s posture instantly shifts, her ears perking up under her thick hair. "Mom... did father manage to secure an audience with David Duskbane? The Double D?"

Mirelle’s scent turns sharp with sudden anxiety. The Vinqlo pack might control the local trade routes, but the Duskbane Keep is the seat of the absolute high authority. David Duskbane commands the entire northern coalition; the Sterlings have spent three generations trying to get an invitation to his hunting grounds.

"Let's move," Mirelle commands, her jaw tight. "If the High Alpha is honoring your ascension night, our bloodline will dominate the entire Condex region by morning."

They sprint toward the clearing, their inner wolves pushing their body heat to a fever pitch. By the time they reach the grass, a massive crowd of minor pack lords has already encircled the landing pad. The socialites swarm Tahlia, their scents heavy with jealousy.

"Tahl, you actually brought the Duskbane Alpha to a minor territorial feast?" one whispers. "You should have warned us. I would have bathed in pure cedar oil to mask my musk."

Tahlia holds her chin high, her chest swelling. "The Alpha King knows who holds the real power in this valley. I caught his scent at the grand council assembly last moon. He’s here for me."

The reinforced alloy ramp of the Duskbane Shadowcraft groans open. The crowd holds its collective breath as a figure steps out into the freezing fog.

It’s a young male. He’s wearing shredded, mud-caked hunting leathers that barely cling to his lean, heavily muscled frame. His face is smeared with dried blood and soot from the Skullmoon Isle caves, his long hair knotted and smelling heavily of salt-water and burnt ash. He doesn't look like an elite; he looks like a predator that just dragged itself out of a swamp.

"What is that filth?" a Vinqlo sub-alpha mutters, covering his nose. "Did the Duskbane pack bring a wild rogue to be executed?"

Tahlia storms forward, her alpha pheromones flaring aggressively as she bars the path. "Who allowed a mangy stray into my courtyard? State your pack allegiance before I have the executioners flay your hide!"

"Feast night?" I say, my voice raspy from the sea salt as I stare directly into her eyes. The scent of her blood matches the treasonous records I dug up before the Raiders sank my vessel. She isn't an adopted sister; the high council notes proved she’s the bastard son of Mirelle and Cedron, conceived while my birth mother, Mcqueen, was still leading the pack.

"You dare look at me like that?" Tahlia growls, her claws extending.

"I am looking at a parasite," I say, my voice dropping to a low, dominant rumble that makes her guards hesitate. "I am the rightful master of this manor."

"You"

"I am Franklin Sterling," I announce, stepping fully into the torchlight, letting the family crest burned into my tattered shoulder wrap show clear against the grime. "The true-blood son of Mcqueen Sterling. The heir you left to rot."

Tahlia completely freezes, her golden eyes widening as the crowd behind her begins to murmur in shocked recognition.

"Franklin?" Mirelle Voss pushes through the line of guards, her face turning an ash-gray color beneath her heavy cosmetics. "You're... you're alive? My poor pup, we've searched every den in the Ashgrove Wildlands for you..."

"Save the whimpering, Mirelle," I spit out, my lip curling into a snarl. "My mother dies, and her younger sister slides right into her bed and takes her title within three moons? You and Cedron built this house on treason."

The guests are practically vibrating with pack gossip now.

"The Sterlings used to be the Moores' vassals," a lord mutters. "Cedron only got the Alpha seat by marrying into Mcqueen’s line. The moment she passed, he changed the entire pack name and purged the old guards."

"So the boy is the true bloodline heir..."

Mirelle clears her throat, trying to reassert her command presence. "Franklin, whatever madness you picked up in the wilderness can be cured. Let the omegas take you to the wash houses. You smell of the dirt. You’ve clearly been living like an animal."

Before I can respond, a heavy, suffocating pressure drops over the entire courtyard. The air grows cold enough to freeze water in mid-air.

"Hey," a deep, terrifying baritone cuts through the fog.

Every wolf in the yard instantly drops their gaze, their spines curving inward as David Duskbane descends the ramp of the shadowcraft. He is a mountain of corded muscle and pure, dominant alpha authority, his golden eyes scanning the crowd like a king evaluating cattle.

"Lord Duskbane!" Tahlia gasps, throwing herself forward with a desperate, submission-style bow. "Welcome to my ascension. The Sterling pack is honored by your presence!"

David doesn't even glance down at her. His eyes are locked onto the back of my head, his brows knitting together in sharp irritation as he notes the dirt on my neck.

"Who are you?" David asks, his voice vibrating through the stone floor.

"Pft—" A sub-alpha in the back cracks a smile, quickly burying it behind a hand. "The High Alpha doesn't even know her name. She thought she was the prize."

Tahlia’s face burns a deep, humiliated crimson. She steps back, her scent turning sour with absolute shame.

Mirelle, desperate to save the family's standing, steps into the gap. "Lord Duskbane, we did not anticipate a royal inspection tonight. The Alpha of the house, Cedron, is currently in the high study reviewing the Condex trade agreements. Please, enter the keep so we can discuss the business alliance."

The crowd watches, waiting to see if the Sterlings truly have the leverage they claimed.

David shifts his gaze to Mirelle, his expression entirely blank. "Do I know you?"

Mirelle’s hand remains frozen in the air, her mouth opening and closing like a dying fish. The crowd bursts into low, uncontrolled snickering. The entire mother-daughter lineage has just been completely erased in front of the northern lords.

Mirelle’s eyes dart between David and the ragged clothes on my back. She looks at the Duskbane tactical jacket I’m wearing the one bearing the private crest of the High Alpha’s inner circle.

The realization hits her like a silver bullet. I didn't hitch a ride on the shadowcraft. The most dangerous predator in the territory brought me here himself.

David steps past them both, his heavy combat boots crunching against the gravel as he stops less than an inch from my shoulder, his massive hand coming down to grip the nape of my neck in full view of the entire territory.