The Crippled Masked Alpha

​[Anya’s POV]

​The great hall was silent, thick with the smell of old cedar and expensive cologne. Today wasn’t just the Succession Ceremony, where I would finally be named the Shadow Pack’s Beta. Today was the day Caleb was supposed to seal it.

​Just get through the speech, I told myself, clutching my hands behind my back. Then the proposal.

​For six years, I had stood beside Caleb, managing the pack’s difficult supply routes and doing the grunt work my father and stepmother, Elara, never bothered with. Today was my reward: the title, the wedding, the life I’d earned.

​"Anya, dear, try to smile," Elara hissed from the front row. Her red lipstick looked like a freshly painted slash of disapproval. "You look like you’re about to fight a bear, not marry a Beta."

​I ignored her. Elara and her daughter, Seraphina, who stood preening beside her, always treated me like a poorly trained servant. They hated my silver-grey eyes, the mark of my true mother's lineage and they certainly hated my competence. But they couldn't touch me today. I had Caleb.

​Caleb stepped forward, standing before my father, Alpha Vesper. The crowd of pack members watched, waiting for the final word. He was handsome, Caleb, with his easy smile and golden-brown hair. He didn’t look at me yet, but I knew his eyes held our secret: the ring tucked into his coat pocket.

​"Alpha Vesper," Caleb began, his voice ringing through the hall. "I thank you for allowing me to serve this pack."

​Get to the point, my love. I felt a nervous excitement coiling in my stomach. The Beta role was mine. The Luna’s future was mine. I was finally building the family I lost the day my twin brother, Devon, was hurt.

​Caleb turned, and my breath hitched. This was it. The moment I had dreamed of, where I finally stopped being the family troublemaker and became the Alpha couple's future.

​But Caleb didn't face me.

​He took three slow steps, bypassing me completely. My smile died, freezing on my face. He stopped directly in front of Seraphina.

​Seraphina. My step-sister. The one who spent her life polishing her fingernails and collecting designer dresses. She looked perfect, of course, with her blonde curls and wide, innocent blue eyes.

​Caleb dropped to one knee.

​A stunned silence fell over the Shadow Pack. The silence was so heavy that I could hear the sharp gasp Elara let out, though whether it was from shock or delight, I couldn't tell.

​Seraphina covered her mouth, her eyes shining with fake surprise.

​My heart didn't break; it just stopped. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. This wasn't a joke. This wasn’t a mistake.

​"Seraphina," Caleb said, pulling a velvet box from his pocket. The diamond inside glittered, mocking the emptiness in my chest. "You are the true, refined quality this pack needs. You embody the perfect, unblemished pedigree of a future Luna. Marry me, and stand with me as Beta."

​Seraphina didn't hesitate. "Yes, Caleb! Oh, yes!"

​The cheers erupted, but they sounded muffled and far away, like I was underwater. I stared at Caleb, his back to me, kneeling before the woman he was supposed to hate. All the late nights, all the secrets, all the whispered promises we’d shared, all of it was being stomped on right now.

​I finally found my voice, a weak, shaky whisper. "Caleb? What... what are you doing?"

​Caleb stood up, fitting the ring onto Seraphina’s finger. He finally glanced at me, and his expression was colder than I had ever seen it. It was not regret, but pity and impatience.

​"Be quiet, Anya," he said, loud enough for the first few rows to hear. "I needed someone to handle the pack’s busywork while I gained the Alpha’s trust. You were useful, but I never loved you. 

Seraphina is the true match. You’re too... wild."

​The word hit me like a physical blow. Wild. It was the same word Elara always used, the same way they dismissed my intelligence and hard work.

​Seraphina snuggled into Caleb’s arm, shooting me a look that was pure, triumphant evil.

​Before I could tear Caleb's perfect face off, my father, Alpha Vesper, banged his staff on the floor.

​"Silence!"

​He didn't spare me a look of comfort. His eyes were cold, fixed on the political figures in the room.

​"The Beta role is filled," my father announced, his voice stern. "But we have a more pressing matter. My eldest daughter, Anya, will be married immediately."

​I flinched. Married?

​"To whom?" I challenged, still shaking from Caleb's betrayal. I couldn't breathe. Was this a sick joke? Was he going to sell me to the oldest, dirtiest Alpha he could find?

​My father unrolled a heavy, thick scroll of parchment. The paper felt different; it smelled of deep forest and something ancient, something powerful and terrifying.

​"Anya will be marrying Alpha Ronan Thorne," my father declared. "The leader of the Crescent Pack."

​A collective, fearful murmur spread through the hall. Everyone knew that name. Ronan Thorne. The Night God.

​"The one who is... rumored to be crippled?" a nervous voice whispered from the crowd.

​"The very same," my father confirmed, his voice regaining its confidence. He waved the scroll. "This marriage has been arranged by the King himself. And in exchange, the King will grant us a substantial reward."

​I didn’t care about the reward. I cared about the name. Alpha Ronan Thorne was a monster, a tyrant. He was the reason other Alphas kept their packs small.

​"You can't do this!" I screamed, finally finding my power. "I won’t marry that brute!"

​Elara stepped forward, her painted red lips stretched into a smirk. "Oh, but you will, dear. Think of it as your final use of this family. A glorious sacrifice, really."

​"No!" I shouted, turning to face my father fully. "I'm your daughter! You can’t trade me like cattle for money!"

​My father’s expression didn't change, but his tone dropped to a menacing, icy whisper that only I could hear.

​"You will go through with this, Anya," he warned. "The money from the King, the entire reward is the only thing keeping your twin brother’s machines running."

​The blood drained from my face. Devon.

​"It is all tied up in this contract," my father continued, his eyes hard and uncaring. "The moment you refuse, the funding stops. Do you understand? Your refusal is Devon's death warrant."

​I couldn't fight anymore. I couldn't move. All the betrayal, the rejection, and the shock vanished, replaced by a singular, cold dread. My brother. My sweet, comatose twin who was always the one good thing in my life.

​I turned and bolted. I didn't care about the cheering crowd or Caleb’s startled call. I ran toward the one place I always sought comfort, the small, hidden wing of the manor where the pack’s specialized medical room was.

​I burst into the room. It was sterile and cold. Devon lay still in the bed, pale, hooked up to a dozen whirring, beeping machines. A doctor was adjusting the flow of an IV bag.

​"Anya!" the doctor protested.

​I ignored him, rushing to Devon’s side, gripping his cold hand. "I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you."

​My father strode in behind me, his heavy bootfalls silencing the doctor. He didn't even look at his son. He held up the heavy scroll, the seal of Ronan Thorne prominent on the wax. The carved wolf looked like it was snarling directly at me.

​"The contract is finalized," my father stated, his voice devoid of all emotion. "The Alpha is sending his representatives at dawn. You will be clean, dressed, and compliant."

​He stepped closer, his shadow falling over Devon’s face. He waved the parchment, emphasizing the terrible, inked words.

​"You will be ready at dawn, Anya. Or I will order them to stop the machines myself."