Chapter Twenty

The sound of bodies hitting the ground echoed across the training field—sharp, rhythmic, unrelenting. Julian moved through his men like a storm given form, every strike clean and precise, but there was something off in his rhythm. Too much force. Too little restraint.

Jace ducked a blow from one of the warriors before slamming the man to the ground, glancing over just in time to see Julian send another sprawling across the dirt with a vicious kick. “You planning on leaving any of them alive?” He called out—breathless, but half-amused.

Julian didn’t answer. His eyes were dark, movements too sharp. Another warrior hit the dirt with a strangled gasp.

“Again,” he barked, his voice slicing through the air like a blade.

The seasoned warriors exchanged wary glances but obeyed. None dared question him. They reset their stances and circled in once more.

Julian met their charge head-on, his strikes a blur, strength barely reined in. The wolf inside him prowled just beneath the surface, restless, hungry for release.

He caught an opponent’s arm, twisted, and swept his legs out from under him with brutal efficiency. The soldier hit the ground again—harder this time. Julian didn’t even flinch.

“Again,” he snapped.

“Alpha,” Jace said finally, tone calm but firm. “You keep this up, they’ll be crawling to the infirmary.”

Julian ignored him, wiping sweat from his brow, chest heaving. “They need to be stronger. Everyone up. Again!”

The warriors scrambled to their feet, panting, sweat slicking their skin. No one dared speak. The Alpha was in one of his moods—wound tight, silent, dangerous.

“Julian.”

The single word cut through the noise like a command from the heavens.

Julian stilled instantly, muscles coiling as he turned toward the voice.

His father, former Alpha James Hale, stood at the far edge of the grounds—hands clasped neatly behind his back, posture immaculate. The faint breeze caught the silver in his dark hair, but it was his eyes—sharp, assessing, impossible to read—that silenced everyone.

“Dismiss your men,” James said, voice calm but leaving no room for argument.

Julian’s jaw flexed. “Training isn’t finished.”

“It is now.”

For a moment, the air between them pulsed with the weight of defiance. Then Julian exhaled through his nose, sharp and slow, before turning back to his warriors. “You heard him. That’s all for today.”

The men didn’t hesitate. They bowed their heads briefly before filing off the field, shoes crunching in the dirt, murmurs dying the moment James’s gaze passed over them. Within moments, the training grounds were silent—just father and son left standing amid the dust and churned earth.

James studied him in the quiet that followed, the faintest crease at the corner of his eyes. “Something on your mind, son?”

Julian shook his head, reaching for the towel around his neck. “No.”

“Really?” His father’s tone was deceptively mild. “Because you’ve been… distracted lately. Unfocused.” He stepped closer, folding his arms. “Would it have anything to do with the she-wolf you came home smelling like a few weeks ago?”

Julian’s spine stiffened. His grip on the towel faltered for the briefest moment before he forced a scoff. “Let me guess—Mother said something.”

James’ brow lifted slightly. “She didn’t have to. Anyone with a nose could smell the unfamiliar scent on you. It wasn’t Elara’s.”

Julian’s gaze dropped, jaw tight.

James studied him for a long beat, then sighed. “You’re a grown man, Julian. It’s not a crime to… indulge yourself once in a while. Every Alpha needs an outlet.” His tone softened slightly, but there was a warning beneath it. “But you’ve been seeing Elara for two years now. I thought you’d finally found contentment with her.”

Julian’s jaw flexed, the word contentment sitting wrong in his chest — heavy, suffocating, false. He reached for the canteen at his side and twisted the cap, more for something to do with his hands than thirst.

“I am,” he said finally, taking a long drink to mask the lie. “Elara and I are fine.”

James watched him over the rim of his folded arms, expression unreadable. “Fine.” The word lingered in the air like smoke. “You sound like a man convincing himself.”

Julian lowered the canteen, meeting his father’s gaze. “What exactly are you implying?”

“That your behavior has been off lately,” James replied, voice even, but his eyes were sharp as flint. “You working all hours of the night, you barely speak to Elara, and half the pack’s afraid to breathe wrong around you. You call that fine?”

Julian’s fingers tightened around the canteen until the metal creaked. “You always said emotion made an Alpha weak.”

“I said letting it rule you makes you weak,” James corrected. “Pretending you don’t feel it? That’s just stupidity.”

A muscle jumped in Julian’s jaw. He looked away, to the far edge of the field where the horizon burned gold with morning light. “I’m not pretending.”

James studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “Good. I hope not.” His tone softened just enough to almost pass for fatherly. “I imagine it’s just pre-mating jitters. Perfectly normal. Once you and Elara are marked and mated, the bond will snap into place. She’ll be all you ever want—everything you’ll ever need in this world.”

The words settled like ash.

Julian’s wolf stirred, a low, warning growl vibrating deep in his chest. The very thought of sinking his teeth into Elara’s skin—of claiming her—made something inside him shudder. His wolf retreated, pushing itself as far back in his mind as it could go, snarling in quiet protest.

Julian exhaled through his nose, trying to ground himself. “What about fated mates?” He asked finally.

James blinked, the question clearly catching him off guard. “What about them?”

“All these arranged matings between the elite,” Julian said, his voice low but edged. “All these carefully chosen bonds for power, politics, convenience.” His gaze met his father’s, unflinching. “You love Mother, I know that. But do you ever wonder—what it would’ve felt like to find your true mate?”

James gave a short laugh, though there was no humor in it. “Fated mates,” he repeated, almost like testing a foreign word. “Julian, that kind of thinking belongs in fairy tales, not in the bloodline of Alphas.”

He stepped closer, hands clasped neatly behind his back as his tone shifted — calm, lecturing, the voice of a man who’d shaped generations. “Arranged mating is what’s allowed our kind to thrive. It’s how we’ve built strong bloodlines. Your power, your strength — all of it — comes from generations of deliberate pairings. Your mother and I continued that legacy, and look what it created.”

Julian’s jaw tightened, but he stayed silent.

James nodded toward the training grounds, toward the dirt still scattered from their earlier sparring. “You think you’d be able to take on half your men at once if you were born from some weak omega? No, son. You’re one of the youngest Alphas in the nation — and the most feared. The most respected. That’s not fate.” He paused, eyes gleaming with cold pride. “That’s blood.”

He turned his gaze back to Julian, sharp and unyielding. “Imagine if our ancestors had followed their fated whims instead of using reason. Chosen their so-called destined mates who were low-ranked, fragile and unremarkable. Our pack wouldn’t have the power it does now. It would have fallen apart long before you were born.”

Julian said nothing at first. His father’s words hung heavy between them, wrapping around him like iron chains.

He knew James believed every word — that strength came from breeding, not bonds; that power was something constructed, not destined. It was how he’d been raised, what had been drilled into him from the moment he could walk and command a room.

And maybe his father was right. The pack was strong. Feared. Respected. His bloodline had never faltered, never weakened.

Julian’s gaze drifted across the training field — to the rows of men who would follow him without question, to the land that thrived under his rule. This was what legacy built. What calculated mating and sacrifice had created.

“Of course,” Julian said at last, his voice even. “You’re right.”

James’s expression softened just slightly — approval gleaming in his eyes as he gave a satisfied nod. “Good. I knew you’d understand.”

Julian returned the nod, but his chest felt tight. The words echoed in his mind like a mantra he no longer believed in.

He turned his gaze toward the horizon, the fading light bleeding gold across the trees — and for the briefest moment, the image of a woman with gray eyes flickered there instead.

A woman who had no rank. No wolf. No bloodline worth boasting of.

And yet, somehow, she’d made him question everything.