A Mate or a weapon

Chapter 0002: A MATE OR A WEAPON

XANDER,

The pack house smelled of whiskey, leather, and the lingering scent of last night’s hunt. My latest conquest clung to my arm, her breath still shallow from exhaustion, but I barely noticed. My wolf prowled beneath my skin, unsettled, still thrumming with the thrill of the chase. Blood pumped hot in my veins, and yet, no amount of pleasure could shake the gnawing restlessness inside me.

I lived for the hunt, for the rush of combat, for the reckless abandon of the night. What I didn’t live for? Pack politics.

The grand oak table stood at the center of the room, polished and pristine—a stark contrast to the tension that always lingered around it. My grandmother and my brother, Xander, sat locked in a hushed but heated discussion. I barely spared them a glance. They could keep their territorial disputes and power games. I had no patience for it.

I was almost free, halfway up the stairs to my room, when my grandmother’s voice cut through the air like a silver dagger.

“How shameless can you be, Xander? You disgrace this family with every step you take.”

I froze, exhaling sharply. My wolf bristled at the underlying challenge in her tone, but I forced my expression to remain impassive as I turned to face her.

Granny had never been one for subtlety. The pack’s wealth, influence, and legacy were hers to wield, and she did so with an iron fist. Since childhood, she had tried to mold me into something I wasn’t—a leader, a statesman, a man fit to rule. But I had never cared for the burden of power. That was Xander’s game, and he played it well.

“You need to find a mate,” she declared, her voice like steel. “Or you will inherit nothing.”

My lips curled in amusement, though the growl in my chest betrayed my irritation. “Is that a threat, Grandma?”

“It’s a fact,” she said coolly. “Look at Derek—engaged, disciplined, prepared to lead. I sometimes wish he was heir instead. And you?” Her gaze flicked to the woman still clinging to me. “A waste.”

The woman stiffened and released my arm, knowing better than to challenge my grandmother. I didn’t bother to stop her as she slipped away.

Derek smirked, lounging back in his chair. He didn’t even have to say anything to gloat. His entire presence oozed superiority, and I hated him for it.

Granny leaned forward, her sharp eyes locking onto mine. “You think I’ll let you squander your birthright? You’re my grandson, and this pack is my legacy. If you refuse to take responsibility, I will strip you of everything.”

I rolled my shoulders, cracking my neck. “Sounds like you’ve already picked your heir,” I drawled.

Derek chuckled, crossing his arms. “She doesn’t need to pick. We all know you’d rather chase tail than take anything seriously.”

I forced a lazy smirk onto my face. “That’s because the tail I chase is more interesting than your pathetic excuse for a love life.”

His amusement faded. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I knew I had struck a nerve.

Good.

Derek was the perfect son—controlled, ruthless, respected. With his upcoming mating ceremony, he was set to take everything: the title, the land, the loyalty of the pack. Meanwhile, I would be left with nothing.

And I realized, with a slow-burning fury, that this had always been the plan.

I clenched my fists. “You’re just going to let him win?” My voice was quieter now, laced with something dangerous.

Granny smirked, knowing she had me exactly where she wanted me. “Prove to me you deserve more than the scraps he’ll leave behind.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose, heart pounding.

I hated how easily she could manipulate me. But if she thought I would roll over and let Xander take everything, she was dead wrong.

“I’ll show you, Grandma,” I murmured, my voice venomous. “I’ll find someone who’ll make you regret ever doubting me.”

Derek chuckled again, but it was forced this time. “What’s your plan, Xander? Mate with the first desperate she-wolf you find in the woods?”

No. I needed more than a mate.

I needed a weapon.

And then, like a whispered omen from the Moon Goddess herself, a name surfaced in my mind.

Amara.

Not just any ex. The ex.

Derek’s former mate. The one he had nearly claimed before everything fell apart in the most humiliating scandal our pack had ever seen.

The memory was burned into history.

Amara had collapsed at the mating ceremony, her screams of betrayal echoing through the pack lands. She had accused Derek of marking another behind her back, of breaking their bond before it had fully formed. The council had sided with Xander and then her father was accused of treason. Amara and her family had been exiled, cast out like she had never existed.

Granny had erased her from our history.

Until now.

The thought of walking into the pack house with Amara at my side sent a dark thrill through me. Derek wouldn’t see it coming. Granny would be forced to reconsider everything.

But finding her wouldn’t be easy. She had vanished without a trace, leaving behind no scent, no ties, no way to track her. It was as if she had been swallowed by the night itself.

Days passed, my frustration mounting as the deadline loomed closer. Then, out of nowhere, a message arrived.

A cryptic email.

A casting call for an underground fight club.

Normally, I wouldn’t have paid attention. But something about it tugged at my instincts. A hunch. A whisper in the back of my mind.

And so, the next night, I stepped into the dimly lit arena. The scent of sweat, blood, and raw aggression hung heavy in the air. The crowd roared as fighters clashed, the sound of fists against flesh filling the room like a heartbeat.

I leaned against the bar, barely paying attention—until the next challenger stepped into the ring.

The door swung open.

And everything stopped.

A familiar scent hit me first—wild, untamed, laced with the crisp bite of moonlight.

Then I saw her.

Amara.

She was no longer the fragile girl from the past. No longer the broken, betrayed she-wolf who had once stood at the altar, humiliated before the entire pack.

This Amara was different. Stronger. Deadlier.

She moved like a predator, each step controlled, lethal. The dim lights cast sharp shadows across her features, highlighting the silver fire in her eyes. She was a warrior now, honed by pain, sharpened by exile.

Her gaze locked onto mine across the room.

A slow smile curled her lips—dangerous as she spat out blood from her mouth.

She wasn’t here by accident.

She had come back for a reason. The Moon Goddess was in support of me.

And for the first time in my life, I wasn’t sure if I was the hunter or the prey.