THE ALPHA AND HIS WINTER LUNA

CHAPTER 001

THE SOUTHERN ALPHA PRINCE

WILLA

The prisoner spits blood into my bowl, and I stare at the red stain spreading through the thin meat broth, then slowly look up at him.

“You should swallow it, unless you plan to die of starvation before the Alpha decides what to do with you,” I whisper.

Garrik lets out a breathy laugh.

It was a terrible sound coming from a man whose lips were split and whose face was swollen from days of beating.

Blood covered his bare chest, running from the cuts across his shoulders and down his stomach. His wrists were chained to the wall behind him, and even kneeling on the cold stone floor, he still looked dangerously handsome.

“Right! I’d rather die of starvation than let you blood-sucking barbarians get their way,” he growls, his body vibrating from rage. “I swear by the goddess, I will rip out the heads of every fucking wolf in the North—”

Before he can say another word, I shove a lump of meat down his throat to keep him quiet, turning sharply at the dungeon entrance to make sure the guards outside didn't hear a single thing he spilled from his mouth.

That would earn him another round of torture.

“Do you not fear for your life?” I grit out, his gaze fixed on me with a death glare.

It's been a month since my brother, Miller, captured him from the last battle with the Southern Pack. I recently heard the guards mentioning he's the son of the Southern Pack Alpha, so a prince.

He looks pitiful, but my brother's instructions were clear: I am to feed and take care of him. His wounds can't be infected so he can live; he's a valuable person to our Alpha.

The Alpha King needed Garrik to surrender by all means to humiliate the South and exploit his ability to expand our Northern territory.

As long as he keeps this stubborn, unbreakable nature, the King is ready to torture him with whips coated in aconite. In other words, the death he so wished for is far from him.

I feel the hairs on my skin stand at the thought of the agony. Even though I was raised among bloodshed and such torture, the sight of it makes me sick.

By the moon, I hope he surrenders so he doesn't have to go through such pain.

My hand clenched on the tray in my hand. As if to have read my thoughts, Garrik pours out spit again, this time on the ground, looking me dead in the eyes.

“I’ll never surrender to those Northern barbarians. The faster they kill me, the better. That would save all of our time.”

I let out a frustrated breath, pressing the bridge of my nose. Why the hell is he so damn stubborn?

I get off my feet and turn to leave without a word, his gaze fixed on me as I walk to the iron door before turning back.

“You don't look like someone who wishes to die in the hands of the North, though, so allow me to take care of your health so you can fight back. Right now, you're just a pathetic prisoner.”

Garrik groans as he tries to shift…the chains probably biting into his wounds, he tightens his jaw at my last words.

I walk out of the dungeon to find my brother, Miller, waiting for me right outside the hall. His broad frame blocks most of the light coming through the heavy wooden doorway, his eyes scanning me the second I step out of the dungeon corridor.

“Did he eat?” Miller asks in a low voice.

“A little,” I say, keeping my eyes on the tray. “He spent more time spitting blood and threatening to kill everyone in the North.”

Miller lets out a short grunt. He doesn't look surprised. He steps closer, pulling me out of the main walkway so the passing guards won't overhear.

“The Alpha King held a council meeting this morning,” Miller leans down slightly, his brows furrowing. “Someone offered him a plan regarding the Southern prince.”

I look up at him, waiting to hear the rest, he sounds like the words are too heavy to let out.

“Southern wolves aren't like us, Willa. They don't just care about strength and power. They lay down their lives for family, blood, and lineage,” Miller explains, his face hard.

“The council believes that if Garrik is given a wife and a child here, he’ll have something to protect. A family will become a chain strong enough to hold him to the North.”

Miller pauses as he looks up at me, jaw tightening and for the first time, I notice the exhaustion in his eyes.

“The Alpha King wants you to be that wife.” My heart thuds a bit.

“Miller…”

“I tried to refuse.” His voice drops, his eyes shifting away from mine. “But the King made it clear that refusing him would cost me my position, our home, and eventually my life.”

I stare at him, unable to speak.

In our pack, female wolves don't get a say in anything. We are expected to keep bearing children to build up the pack's numbers.

Even when a warrior dies, his female is passed right to his brother or his son to keep giving birth. It’s just how things are here.

Because Miller is the strongest young warrior in the pack, I’ve had it better than almost any other female. He earned us a stable life with his blood. If it wasn't for him protecting me, I would have been bullied to death as a child.

So if Miller is coming to me with this, I already know his answer isn't one he chose for himself. If this is the only way to keep the Alpha King from killing him, then I know what my answer has to be.

“You want me to do it?” I ask flatly.

Miller's eyes immediately soften, and he shakes his head. “I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, Willa.”

“But if I refuse?”

He looks away. “The King will punish me.”

“The Alpha agreed. It secures our standing even further, Willa. Nothing will touch you if you’re carrying the Southern prince's blood for the King’s plan.”

His voice is low, almost apologetic now, I know what he's trying to say without saying it. He can't protect me from the King.

I let out a slow breath, my mind immediately flashing back to the dark dungeon below us.

Garrik’s split lips, his bloody chest, and the way he could barely hold his head up while cursing me out. He isn't built like the massive, heavy Northern males around here. He’s lean and battered to hell right now.

I frown, looking back at my brother.

“What?” Miller asks.

“I’m just thinking about the prisoner,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck. “He’s torn to pieces from the aconite whips, Miller. If I’m supposed to bear his child... can his wounded body even endure the fierce sex?”