The Alpha's Unwanted Heir

Sienna's POVThe heavy silver tray weighed down my fingers, its polished surface reflecting the dim, warm lights of the Blood moon Pack’s grand hall. Around me, laughter boomed off the timber beams, accompanied by the clinking of heavy crystal glasses and the overwhelming scent of pine, roasted meat, and high-ranking wolf spirits. Tonight was the night Jaxson Vance officially stepped into his power, taking the mantle of Alpha from his father. The air in the room was thick with male dominance, but beneath the celebration, the hierarchy remained as sharp as a razor.And I was at the very bottom of it."Watch where you’re stepping, Omega," a sharp voice snapped from my left.I pulled my arm back just in time to avoid bumping into Clara, a high-ranking warrior's daughter draped in deep red silk. Her dark eyes swept over my plain black server’s tunic with open disgust, her lip curling upward as she took a fresh glass of sparkling wine from my tray."Sorry, Clara," I said softly, keeping

Sienna's POVThe moment Jaxson’s mouth claimed mine, the remaining fragments of my sanity disintegrated into pure, unadulterated heat.His kiss wasn't gentle or hesitant; it was a hungry, possessive demand that swept through my system like wildfire. The contrast between his cold, unyielding Alpha exterior and the fevered intensity of his lips pressed against mine stripped away every wall I had built over five agonizing years. I let out a soft, helpless whimper into his mouth, my fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck as I pulled him closer, completely surrendering to the electric pull humming between us.Jaxson groaned low in his chest, a deep, resonant vibration that I felt all the way in my core. His large, warm hand cupped the back of my head, holding me firmly against him while his other arm slid down to wrap around my lower back. With a effortless lift, he hitched my thigh up around his hip, crushing my pelvis against the hard ridge of his arousal. A sha

Sienna's POV The heavy oak doors of the grand council chamber stood open, exposing the high ceiling, polished stone floor, and long timber table lined with the pack’s highest elders. Morning light flooded through the tall stained-glass windows, painting the room in deep hues of crimson and gold. I stood ten feet back from the foot of the long table, still wearing my plain, dark server's tunic. My ankles were stiff, my throat dry as bone, and my stomach churned in quiet nausea. The Ceramic mug containing the Moon-tea sat on the bedside counter in Jaxson's room, a constant reminder of the quiet death of every dream I had harbored since childhood. In front of me, seated on the carved Alpha throne at the head of the chamber, was Jaxson. He looked majestic, cold, and entirely untouchable. Broad shoulders filling out his leather Alpha jacket, dark hair swept back with precision, his face carved from unyielding granite. Beside him stood Elder Thomas, holding a thick scroll of parchme

Sienna's POVThe sky above the Bloodmoon territory had turned the color of a fresh bruise by late afternoon. Heavy, bruised-purple clouds rolled over the jagged peaks of the Northern Ridge, blotting out the remaining sunlight and bringing an unnatural, oppressive dusk forward by two hours. Cold wind whipped through the towering pines, making the branches scrape against the stone walls of the packhouse like desperate, clutching fingers.Inside my tiny servant’s quarters on the lowest floor—a cramped room with a narrow iron bed, a cracked washbasin, and no window—the quiet was deafening.I stood over my bed, staring down at the meager belongings spread across the thin, threadbare blanket. A second plain tunic, a pair of patched wool socks, a small carved wooden wolf my father had given me before his death, and a small leather pouch containing seventeen copper coins—my entire life's savings after five years of endless, backbreaking labor.My hands trembled as I folded the tunic, my fin

Sienna's POVThe icy downpour never let up. It pounded against my head and shoulders like tiny lead pellets, soaking through every thread of my heavy wool cloak until the fabric felt as heavy as iron armor.My boots sloshed through thick, black mud that sucked at my feet with every single step. My knees were stiff, trembling so violently from the bitter mountain cold that I could barely keep my legs moving forward. But I didn't stop. I couldn't stop. The sheer fear of being dragged back to the Bloodmoon Packhouse—or worse, being cornered by feral wolves in the pitch black—kept my lungs dragging thin, icy air into my chest.I had crossed the eastern border river two miles back. The water had been raging, swollen high from the storm, pulling at my waist as I dragged myself across the slippery river stones. When my feet finally touched the opposite bank, I knew I had crossed a fatal line.I was no longer on pack land. I was in the Northern Frontier—a lawless, unmapped wilderness where ro