CHAPTER ONE

The council chamber reeked of sweat and tension.  

Alpha Romero sat at the head of the long oak table, fingers drumming impatiently as his advisors debated the latest territorial disputes between them and the warlocks.

"We're losing ground and our magic is weak..." 

It was the same old.

He wasn’t listening. His wolf, Kaiser, paced restlessly in his mind, its agitation growing by the second.  

Then the doors burst open.  

A young warrior stumbled in, breathless. “My Alpha–”  

Romero was already rising from his seat. This was no ordinary messenger. This warrior served within the castle’s inner rooms.  

“It’s the Luna,” the warrior choked out. “She’s in labor.”  

! ! ! ! ! !

The torches lining the stone corridor flickered, their flames restless, mirroring the storm inside Romero’s chest.  

His boots pounded against the stone floor as he paced just outside the birthing chamber. 

His fangs ached. His claws curled into his palms.  

The scent of her blood filled the air.  

Too much blood.

 He was their firstborn—the heir to the throne of Vargrheim. By the sacred laws woven into the kingdom’s history, the first child sired by an Alpha and his mate would inherit the mantle of leadership, marked by blood and destiny.

But such a birth came with a price.

Since the founding of the Kingdom the first child sired by an Alpha and his mate would inherit the throne, born not just of blood but of destiny itself. A single heir—never more. For with his arrival, the Luna’s womb would be sealed by divine will, ensuring no other child could challenge his claim. It was a sacred law, older than the kingdom itself. A blessing. A curse.

Without exception the children the Luna’s birthed were all male.

His birth was not merely a cause for celebration, it was a decree set in stone by the Moon Goddess herself, binding them all to an ancient and inescapable fate.  

And when the newborn Alpha arrived, he would not cry. No whimper, no fragile wail.  

Instead, he would roar, The Sovereign’s roar.

A sound that would shake the very foundation of the kingdom. A sound only an Alpha could make—one that would carry through the forests, across the mountains, and into the hearts of every wolf in Vargrheim.  

A declaration to the world: 'I have come'

'Well the little demon better be fast in his coming.'

A growl built low in his throat, vibrating through his chest. His wolf was frantic, clawing to take over, to do something—anything—to stop what was happening behind that door.  

Quinn stood a few feet away, arms crossed.

Unlike the others in the hall—servants kneeling, warriors watching warily, he remained unfazed.  

“Calm down, damn it,” Quinn said, stepping into his Alpha’s path as Romero turned for another pass. “You’re acting like a pup. She’s strong. She’ll be fine.”  

Romero’s glare burned through him. “You don’t know that.”  

Quinn sighed. He’d expected this much. Frankly, Romero had handled himself well...enough—considering he’d already knocked out two guards for not moving fast enough when he returned.  

Romero took a swig from the bottle in his hand. Not the cup—straight from the bottle.  

Quinn’s eyes flickered. “You really shouldn’t drink so much.”  

Romero snarled and hurled his goblet at the nearest painting, shattering glass across the walls. The servants outside flinched, lowering themselves even further to the ground.  

Quinn exhaled sharply. “Get a grip,” he muttered, stepping directly in front of Romero. "You’re the damn Alpha. You think Lillith wants to see you like this?"  

Romero’s patience snapped.  

His hand shot out, grabbing Quinn by the collar, slamming him against the stone wall.  

“Don't assume you know anything about my mate!” His fangs bared, golden eyes burning.  

Quinn didn’t flinch. His own wolf bristled, but he held firm. “And don’t assume I don’t care about her too. She's my Luna.”  

The doors were pushed open and an elderly healer staggered toward him, hands stained crimson. Her body trembled.  

Romero and Quinn went still.  

Romero's heart slammed into his ribs.  

She dropped to her knees. “My Alpha…”  

His wolf lunged, demanding carnage. But Romero clenched his fists to keep himself from tearing her apart.  

“This is nearing the sixth hour. It is a diffi—”  

He didn’t let her finish.  

His boot struck her chest.  

The healer collapsed with a strangled gasp.  

“Incompetent,” he spat.  

Quinn cursed behind him. “Romero—”  

But Romero was already moving.  

He shoved open the heavy doors—and the world stopped.  

The air was thick—too thick. It reeked of sweat, blood, and death.  

The room was full of kneeling healers, heads bowed, hands stained. But his gaze locked onto the bed.  

Lillith.  

His fierce, untouchable Lillith.  

She looked so small against the sea of blood-soaked linens. Her golden skin was ashen, lips cracked. Her wild, dark curls clung to her face, damp with sweat.  

Her chest rose and fell in shallow motions.  

She was slipping away.  

Something inside him… fractured at the sight.  

His mate—his soul, was breaking apart right in front of him.  

Quinn stood beside him, silent, his jaw tight.  

Romero barely noticed him.  

He stormed to the bed, kneeling beside her, grabbing her ice-cold hand.  

"Lillith," he rasped.  

Her eyelids fluttered.  

A whisper, barely audible. “Romero…”  

His heart was pained. His wolf gave mournful howls.

“Stay with me.”  

Her lips twitched with a ghost of a smile.  

A healer’s voice broke through the thick air.  

“M-My Alpha…” Marian, the youngest among them, swallowed hard. “The Luna and our prince… they might not make it.”  

Romero stilled then turned his head slowly. His expression not betraying a hint of grief.

It was a smile. Canines gleamed in the almost dark room.

“If she dies,” he murmured, “you all accompany her on her way.”

It was a promise. A blood-soaked, merciless promise.

A sharp inhale rippled through the room.

Marian's lips trembled. She clenched her fists until blood welled from her palms.  

She was the youngest of the healers assigned for the birth of the heir. She had thought it to be a blessing and an honour as she was newly appointed in the ministry but now she prayed a million times she could get out of this alive. If only...

Marian’s lips trembled. “You’ll have to choose between the prince and the Luna, sire.”  

Choose.  

Romero stiffened.  

And then Lillith exhaled.  

"I choose the child."  

Silence.  

A silence deeper than death itself.  

Romero’s body went still.  

She was delirious. She didn’t mean it.  

…She couldn’t mean it.  

His fingers curled into fists. 

There was no hesitation in choosing the child over herself, over him...

His claws pierced his palms.  

The air in the room thickened with tension.  

Quinn inhaled sharply beside him, his hand a firm weight on Romero’s shoulder. "Romero—"

Quinn didn’t know what to say. The bond the wolves of the Kingdom had with their Luna was a strong one. He'd started feeling pangs beign jabbed at his wolf already. He couldn’t imagine what Romero was going through.

Romero looked into Lillith’s exhausted eyes and found out he couldn't deny her this child even though he really wanted to.

Romero’s voice was a growl, barely restrained. “Do something.” 

The healers immediately started working frantically, whispering desperate prayers under their breath, their hands trembling as they fought against death itself. 

Some of them had already given up hope on leaving here alive. They just wanted to relieve their Luna of her suffering. She'd endured far too much although she was strong.

This time Romero didn't step out.

Time stretched on slowly...

“We are trying, Alpha,” Marian choked out. Her hands were red up to the elbows, her face pale beneath the flickering torchlight. “But she is—she is weakening.”  

Lillith groaned, her body convulsing with exhaustion. Her once-commanding voice was now a mere whisper. “Romero…”  

Then... 

A sound, sharp and raw, cut through the tension. It was a gasp. A choked sob. It was from the healer.  

“Alpha—” Marian’s voice was frantic. “He’s coming.”  

The air in the room seemed to still.  

The moments stretched, unbearably slow. And then with a wretched cry from Lillith, 

The child was born but it didn’t move.

The healer holding the baby caught sight of something that made her go white in the face.

She dropped the baby...

She immediately fell to her knees, hands shaking and whispering horrified prayers.

Shock and terror infected the whole room.

For a heartbeat, there was silence.

Another.  

Then, 

A sound that tore through the very fabric of the night.  

Not a cry. Not a fragile wail.  

A roar. 

Deep. Primal. Alpha.

Quinn’s breath caught. "Moon above…" He took to one knee instinctively, looking at the baby on the floor in reverence.

The roar rumbled through the stone walls, through the castle corridors, through the vast forests of Vargrheim. Every wolf in the kingdom heard it. Every beast, every being tied to the moon, could feel it in their bones. Creatures of the night and Mythical creatures alike.

A new Alpha had been born.  

For a moment, Romero was caught in awe.

Then his gaze snapped to the healer who had dropped his son.

With inhuman speed, he struck.

His claws sliced through her throat.

She crumpled, gurgling.

The other healers stifled their screams, scrambling back on their hands and knees.

Romero exhaled, going to cradle his heir—this blood-slicked, dark-eyed child who already commanded the world’s submission.

Silence filled the chamber.

Then—

He looked down.

And froze.

Quinn stared. His mouth parted in disbelief.  

Romero’s grip on the child tightened.  

His breath stalled. His stomach dropped, his mind going blank.

His son—his heir, was missing something.

—A penis.

The heir of Vargrheim was not a prince.

She was a princess.

And if that wasn't a shock enough he was struck by something even more impossible...

"THERE'S ANOTHER CHILD MY, LIEGE!"