THE MONSTER’S PAST

Chapter 7 – The Monster’s Past

Brock’s POV

The night stretched long and restless.

I stood on the balcony outside my chambers, the cold wind biting against my skin. Below me, the packlands spread wide — forests, rivers, homes filled with wolves loyal to my command. To anyone else, it might look like peace. But to me, it was just silence. Empty. Meaningless.

The bond pulsed faintly, tugging at my chest, whispering her name. Jenna.

She hated me. I felt it as clearly as I felt my own rage — sharp, defiant, unyielding. No fear strong enough to break her yet. Most humans trembled, begged, wept when faced with me. But not her. She fought like the moon itself burned in her blood.

And I couldn’t decide if I wanted to crush that fire… or feed it.

I closed my eyes, letting the memories come.

Blood. Always blood.

My first kill at twelve — my father’s command. The human girl crying in the corner, no older than I was. He forced me to sink my claws into her chest, to rip out her heart while she screamed. He said it was the only way to become strong. To become King.

“Love makes you weak,” he told me as her blood stained my hands. “Mercy makes you prey.”

I learned fast. To kill. To take. To never feel.

And I didn’t — not when I slaughtered rogues, not when I claimed women only to discard their broken bodies after. Lust was easy. Power was easy. But love? Love was poison. And I would never drink it.

So why… why now did my chest ache when I felt her struggle? Why did the thought of another man’s hands on her ignite something violent inside me?

The bond. Damn the moon. Damn fate.

I gripped the balcony rail until the iron bent beneath my fingers. I couldn’t let her undo me. I couldn’t let anyone undo me.

Yet still, my feet turned. Toward her room. Toward the girl fate had tied me to.

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Jenna’s POV

I couldn’t sleep. Again.

The bed was too soft, the silence too loud. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt him — the bond pressing like invisible chains around my ribs. And worse, I could feel his emotions bleeding into me. Anger. Hunger. A deep, dark loneliness I couldn’t explain.

I hated it. Hated him.

So when the door clicked open, I sat up fast, ready to fight.

He stepped in, silent as shadow. No guards, no servants. Just him. The Alpha King. His gold eyes glowed faintly in the dark, pinning me like a predator pins prey.

I forced my voice not to shake. “Come to gloat?”

His lips curved, not quite a smile. “You’re still here. Not broken yet.”

“I’ll never break,” I spat.

He moved closer, slow and deliberate, until he was only a foot away. The bond flared, sparks shooting down my spine, heat crawling under my skin. My pulse betrayed me, hammering fast. His nostrils flared as if he could smell it, and his smirk deepened.

“You say that,” he murmured, “but I can feel the truth.”

I glared at him, gripping the blanket like a shield. “All you’ll ever feel from me is hate.”

He studied me in silence for a long moment. Then, to my shock, he sat in the chair by the fire instead of looming over me. His gaze flickered to the flames.

“Do you know why they call me cruel?” he asked suddenly.

I blinked, thrown. “Because you are?”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest, but it wasn’t amusement. It was bitter. “Because I had no choice.”

I didn’t answer. My heart pounded, but curiosity prickled through me despite myself.

“My father taught me that mercy was weakness,” he continued, voice flat, eyes on the fire. “He killed my mother in front of me when I was six. Said she’d made me soft. He was wrong. She made me human.”

His jaw clenched, the muscles ticking. “So I learned. I killed. I took. I ruled. And they feared me, just as he wanted.”

I swallowed hard. The firelight made the sharp planes of his face look almost human, almost broken. For the briefest second, I saw not a monster but a boy carved into one.

I hated myself for feeling it.

“You think telling me this makes you less of a monster?” I whispered.

His eyes snapped to mine, glowing. “No. It makes me more dangerous. Because unlike the others, I know exactly what I am.”

I forced myself to hold his gaze, though the bond buzzed between us like static, pulling me closer even as my mind screamed to resist.

“Then you’ll never have me,” I said softly but firmly. “Because I know what I am too. And I’m not yours.”

Silence. The fire crackled. The bond twisted tight between us, heavy with unspoken things.

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, slowly, he stood.

“You’ll see, Jenna,” he said at last, his voice low, dangerous. “The bond isn’t a cage. It’s destiny. And you can’t outrun destiny.”

He left without another word, the door locking behind him.

I sat there, heart racing, my throat tight.

For the first time, I’d seen a crack in him. A sliver of something more than cruelty. But I shoved the thought away before it could take root.

I curled back into the bed, whispering into the dark: “You’re wrong. Fate doesn’t own me. No one does.”

Still, as sleep finally pulled me under, his voice lingered in my head.

You can’t outrun destiny.