Chapter 5

ALEXANDER’S POV

I tapped my right foot against the tent floor, the rhythm sharp, aggressive, echoing the pressure rising in my chest. The voices around me were dull, like the droning hum of insects I couldn’t quite swat away. Another strategy report. Another list of figures, positions, and tactics I’d already memorized before sunrise.

My gaze drifted beyond them, beyond the canvas walls and lantern light, wishing I were anywhere else. Silence would be better. A sword in my hand. A sparring match. Anything but this endless parade of information. But this had to be done. Always duty first.

This camp, this war, had long ago become more than obligation—it was a prison carved by legacy.

My father, King Kyle, never intended to raise a son. He intended to forge a weapon. And he did. He stripped me of title, tossed me into this blood-soaked mud pit with nothing but an alias and a mandate: survive and rise.

And I had. Through bruises and beatings. Through humiliation. I had earned the right to be here—not through my birthright, but through broken bones and cold calculation.

“Commander,” Bolton said, his voice slicing into my thoughts. “The border is almost completely under our control. We’ve pushed their forces back and reclaimed the terrain we lost. All that’s left is to press forward and take theirs.”

I looked up slowly, my stare hard. Something was wrong. The room reeked of it.

“Then why haven’t we?”

Bolton flinched, glanced at Cole.

It was Cole who spoke next, voice rough with the weight of bad news.

“We lost the southern pass,” he said. “Ambush hit us during the night. No reinforcements. We couldn’t hold the line.”

Silence.

Then my fist struck the desk with enough force to rattle everything on it.

The tent fell into stunned stillness.

I rose halfway from my seat, the snarl barely contained. My wolf surged, claws just under my skin, jaws bared.

“You lost the southern pass?” I growled, voice low and razor-edged. “That path was essential to our entire strategy. How could you lose something that vital?”

My voice echoed off the canvas, reverberating like thunder. I could feel the air shift, crackling with my fury.

Bolton cleared his throat, trying to recover. “We’re mobilizing a force to reclaim it—”

I lifted a hand, silencing him.

Then my phone buzzed.

One sharp vibration.

I reached for it, eyes narrowing as the name flashed across the screen.

Beta Aaron.

I unlocked it, prepared for another logistical update—but instead I read:

‘Good day Commander Alexander. Luna Eliza of the Silver Moon Pack is getting a divorce from Alpha Derek.’

I stilled.

The words seared into my brain like fire.

Eliza.

My heartbeat stuttered, then quickened.

The tent disappeared. The desk. The soldiers. Everything vanished under the weight of her name.

Eliza.

“Commander?” someone ventured.

I didn’t look up.

“Fix your mistake,” I said flatly. “And get out.”

They obeyed without question. The flap of the tent swayed as they left. I remained frozen.

My mind had already gone elsewhere.

Back in time.

Back to when I was nothing but an awkward teen, dropped into the chaos of this war camp. A boy used to plush velvet and royal banquets suddenly expected to fight, sweat, bleed. The others had laughed at me. Mocked me. Predicted my death before the week was out.

“He’s too soft.”

“He’ll cry the first time he sees blood.”

“He can’t even lift his own sword.”

But then—her.

Eliza.

Only fourteen, and she stood taller than any soldier. Not in height, but in presence. She was fire wrapped in skin. Blades in her voice. And when they mocked me one too many times, she stepped in.

“He’s learning,” she snapped at them, her tone brooking no argument. “At least he’s willing to. Unlike you lazy bastards.”

She had placed herself between me and the others like a shield. Frail-looking, maybe. But no one dared cross her.

They listened to her.

She wasn’t just the commander’s daughter. She was born to lead. Raised in battle. Hardened by it.

And I was in awe.

Then came the sparring match. The one where I thought I could impress her.

She dismantled me. Swift. Precise. I hadn’t touched her once.

I lay on the ground, staring up at her silhouette framed by the rising sun—and I knew.

She was it.

The Moon Goddess had to have made her for me.

But fate had other plans.

Her mother pulled her from the camp shortly after. Something about preserving the future of their bloodline. Eliza vanished, and the war devoured me whole.

Years passed.

When I finally resurfaced… she was already mated. Already marked. Already taken by Derek.

Derek.

The name alone made my wolf snarl.

He arrived as reinforcement, full of arrogance and cruelty. He was skilled, yes, but he wielded that skill like a club—swinging at anyone who challenged his ego.

I watched him closely. I wanted to see what Eliza saw in him. But the more I observed, the more bile rose in my throat.

He wasn’t worthy.

And when I learned he’d betrayed her—when whispers reached me of another woman, another bed—I saw red.

I nearly killed him.

The only thing that stopped me was the weight of command.

But I hadn’t forgotten. I never would.

And now…

Now she was free.

My jaw clenched. My pulse roared.

This wasn’t just news. This was fate correcting its mistake.

A second chance.

I wouldn’t waste it.

This time, I wouldn’t hesitate. Wouldn’t sit back while someone else took her hand. Wouldn’t be the quiet protector hiding behind duty.

I would protect her.

Fight for her.

Claim her.

My wolf growled in approval, pacing beneath my skin.

Eliza would never suffer again.

Not while I breathed.

Not while I lived.

She would be shielded.

She would be worshiped.

She would be mine.