🗡️Chapter 04🗡️

Third-person POV

Far from the reach of the modern world, hidden away from any map, sat Belzedrom. It was an ancient place where time seemed to stand still, built from cold stone and ruled by the moon.

At the center of this kingdom lived the SilverCrest Pack, Their new leader, Alpha Damir, was only twenty-four years old. He had recently taken over the throne after his father’s death, a transition that had been paved with blood and difficult choices.

Inside his private quarters, the silence was trashed by the sound of heavy breathing and the frantic friction of skin hitting skin. A woman’s voice broke into a jagged moan that filled the space.

"Yes... Alpha... right there," she choked out, her fingers digging into the dark fabric of the bed.

Damir didn't say a word. He didn't do the soft stuff, no kissing, no slow build-up, no foreplay. He just moved with a raw, focused energy that was more about a physical itch than any kind of connection. He used the heat of the moment to drown out the noise in his head, his face a mask of pure, cold concentration.

When he was done, he pulled away immediately. The bed went quiet, save for her trying to catch her breath.

Damir headed straight for the bath chamber, the sound of the water cutting through the room like a blade. When he stepped back out, steam clinging to his broad, scarred shoulders, he found the woman, his sex mistress, Lila, scrambling to pull on her clothes. Her hands shook as she fumbled with her heels, her hair a bird's nest against her flushed skin.

"I’m....leaving, Alpha," she murmured, her eyes glued to the floor. She knew the rules. She didn't linger, and she damn sure didn't use his bath chamber.

"Lila." His voice stopped her dead. It was low, like a growl that hadn't quite broken the surface.

She froze, her heart thumping against her ribs

"Take the suppressants. The same as always," Damir said, his tone flat and icy. He didn't even look at her as he poured himself a drink. "I’m not interested in a bastard child, and I'm definitely not interested in a family. Don't let me hear you 'forgot'."

Lila swallowed hard, a flicker of hurt crossing her face before she masked it with a submissive nod. "You don't have to worry, Alpha. I know my place. It won't happen."

She didn't wait for him to say anything else. She bolted out of the room, leaving the door to click shut behind her.

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Lila nearly collided with Lincoln in the hallway, her head down as she fumbled with her collar. He was the Alpha’s right hand, a Beta who saw far more than most people liked. She didn't stay for a greeting; she just ducked her head and hurried away, her footsteps echoing fast against the stone.

Lincoln watched her go for a second, then turned to Damir’s door. He didn't wait for a "come in." He just knocked once and shoved it open.

Lincoln was three years older than Damir and the only person in Belzedrom who didn't treat the Alpha like a ticking time bomb. They’d spent enough late nights over half-empty bottles of bourbon for the formalities to have mostly burned away.

He stepped fully into the room, the scent of steam and sex still hanging in the air.

"Alpha," Lincoln said, his tone casual but grounded.

Damir didn't turn around. He stayed by the window, staring out at the jagged skyline of the kingdom, a glass of dark wine gripped in his hand.

"The elders are gathered in the Great Hall," Lincoln told him, leaning back against the heavy doorframe.

Damir took a slow sip, then finally turned, setting the glass on the table with a dull thud. "Let me guess. They’re back on their favorite subject? My lack of a Luna."

Lincoln gave a small, dry shrug. "Pretty much. They’ve got that look on their faces, the one where they think they’ve got a right to your bedroom."

"Idiots," Damir muttered, his jaw tightening. "They were all there on the Day of the Scent. They saw it as clearly as I did. Thousands of wolves, every eligible female in the territory, and not a single one of them triggered a damn thing in my blood. My mate wasn't there. Either she’s dead, she’s not born yet, or she’s a myth."

He paced the rug, the agitation rolling off him in waves.

"I don't know why those old men can't wrap their heads around it," Damir continued, his voice dropping to a low growl. "They act like I’m choosing to be alone. If the moon hasn't given me a mate, I’m not going to just pick a girl like I’m choosing a horse for the stables. They need to stop prying into my life before I give them a real reason to be afraid of me."

Lincoln let out a short breath. "You know how they are. They don't care about destiny; they care about stability. To them, a King without a Queen is a liability."

"To me," Damir snapped, "they’re a headache I’m about to cure with a very short meeting."

Lincoln didn't push it. He knew when Damir was at his limit, and right now, the Alpha looked like he was ready to tear the doors off their hinges. He stayed quiet, leaning against the cold stone wall as damir moved toward the heavy wooden chest at the foot of his bed, pulling out a heavy, dark fur-lined cloak to replace the one he’d shed earlier.

"My mother," Damir began, his voice rasping in the quiet room. He threw the cloak over his broad shoulders"Is she at the temple again?"

"Yes, Alpha," Lincoln replied, his voice level. "She hasn't left since dawn."

Damir’s hands paused on the rope of his cloak, A shadow crossed his face, one that had nothing to do with the dim lighting of the room.

His mother, Silvora, was a woman living in a ghost story. Once the proud Luna of SilverCrest, she had been a force of nature, regal, and fiercely protective. But the day Alpha drakan died, something inside Silvora had snapped. It wasn't just grief; it was as if the tether holding her to reality had frayed.

She had retreated into the ancient temple on the edge of the cliffs, spending her days lighting incense and whispering to the Moon Goddess as if she were an old friend who had stopped answering her calls.

The pack whispered that she was losing her mind, that she was looking for a way to bring the old Alpha back, or perhaps looking for forgiveness for the blood that had been spilled during his reign. To Damir, she was a constant, aching reminder of a legacy he was trying to outrun.

"She’s praying for a miracle I don’t think is coming," Damir muttered, finally finishing with his cloak.

"She’s praying for your mate, Alpha" Lincoln said softly, stepping closer. "She thinks that if you find her, the darkness in this pack finally lifts. She wants the light back."

Damir let out a harsh, dry laugh that didn't reach his eyes. "The light left this place a long time ago, Lincoln. My mother is just the only one who refuses to sit in the dark."

He grabbed his gloves. "Let’s go. I’d rather deal with the wind on the cliffs than the silence in that temple."