The One He Chose

Prologue

They said exile was the end of a wolf’s story, but for Henry, it became the beginning of another.

He was only a boy when the Blue Moon pack turned their backs on him, when his mother was accused of sins she never committed. He remembered the cold of the forest, the echo of his mother’s weeping, and the sting of betrayal carved deeper than any claw.

But the world outside the pack did not devour him. It cradled him in strange, human arms. He grew, not as a warrior of his kind, but as a boy caught between two worlds—mocked as a rogue, whispered about as cursed, yet watched by eyes he did not understand.

The scholarship should have been a blessing, a chance to disappear into books, into anonymity. But fate was crueler, or perhaps kinder, than Henry ever imagined. The principal saw him not as a rogue, but as something more. The Alpha, newly restored, began to circle back, claiming ties to his blood. And in the middle stood Henry—broken, quiet, and unwilling to believe he could ever be chosen.

Yet love has its own laws, stronger than any exile. The world began to whisper again, this time not about his shame, but about the question none could answer:

When the heart of a rogue is claimed by both power and devotion, who will he choose?

Chapter One

The Exile

The night they were cast out burned into Henry’s memory like a scar.

The Blue Moon pack gathered in the great hall. At the center stood Alpha Darius, his voice cutting through the air with finality.

“Evelyn Stoner, guilty of betrayal against the pack. For consorting with outsiders. For crimes that cannot be forgiven.”

Henry, only twelve, clung to his mother’s arm. His frame shook, but he didn’t cry. He refused to give them the satisfaction.

His mother, unbroken, lifted her chin. “I did nothing. You all know this. But you need a scapegoat, and so you chose me.”

A murmur ran through the wolves. Some looked away, shame in their eyes. Others smirked, hungry for spectacle.

Alpha Darius sneered. “Take her and the boy. They will leave this pack tonight. If they return, they will be executed.”

A guard shoved Henry forward. Another ripped the pendant from his mother’s neck. She stumbled, but caught herself. Her hand tightened around Henry’s, and in that single gesture, she told him everything—we survive this.

The gates slammed behind them. The forest swallowed them whole.

Hours passed, the woods were endless, black branches clawing at their clothes. The cold gnawed at Henry’s bones, but he kept walking. Every crunch of leaves reminded him: they weren’t alone.

The howls started when the moon reached its peak. Wolves. Not their pack—rogues.

“Stay close,” Evelyn whispered. Her voice was calm, though Henry heard the fear inside of him.

A shadow darted through the trees. Then another. They were being circled.

Henry’s throat tightened. “Mom—”

“Don’t stop.”

They ran. Branches whipped Henry’s face, roots tore at his shoes. The forest seemed determined to drag him down. The howls grew louder and closer.

One broke from the trees, eyes glowing, saliva dripping from teeth. It lunged.

Evelyn shoved Henry aside. The beast’s claws slashed across her arm. She stumbled but stayed on her feet, standing between the wolf and her son.

“Run, Henry!” she screamed.

But Henry didn’t. Something hot surged inside him—rage, fire, a force he couldn’t name. He stared at the rogue, and for a split second, its growl faltered. Its head jerked back, as if struck by an invisible hand.

The wolf snarled again, shaking it off. But Henry had bought them a moment. His mother grabbed his wrist. “This way!”

They plunged deeper into the forest. Behind them, more howls. The rogues weren’t giving up.

By dawn, exhaustion crushed Henry’s legs. His vision blurred. His mother was bleeding, her sleeve soaked red.

“Mom…” His voice cracked.

She forced a smile. “We’re almost out.”

But Henry saw the truth. She was staggering. Every step cost her.

A twig snapped, rogues closer now, tracking their blood.

Evelyn pushed Henry behind a fallen tree. “Listen to me. If they come—”

“No!” Henry’s voice broke. “Don’t say it. You’re not leaving me.”

Her hand trembled against his cheek. “Then fight, survive. Promise me.”

Before he could answer, the forest exploded with noise—engines, headlights and shouts.

Henry froze. "Humans!"

A jeep roared into the clearing. Men jumped out, guns raised. Hunters.

“Wolves!” one of them shouted. “Two on the left!”

The rogues hesitated, then bolted back into the trees. Gunfire chased them until silence returned.

Henry’s chest heaved. His mother collapsed.

The humans rushed forward. One of them knelt, checking Evelyn’s pulse. “She’s alive! Get the med kit!”

Another shone a flashlight on Henry. “Kid, are you hurt?”

Henry just stared. Humans weren’t supposed to be part of their world. His mother always said: stay hidden. But now, these strangers were their only hope.

The leader, a man with graying hair, crouched before him. “You’re safe now. We’ll take care of you both.”

Henry swallowed. “We… we don’t belong here.”

The man’s gaze softened. “Maybe. But tonight, you do.”

He lifted Evelyn up, as if she were his own kin. Henry followed numbly, climbing into the jeep. As they sped away, the forest vanished behind them, but Henry’s heart stayed tangled in it—caught between the pack that had cast him out and the humans who had saved him.

They reached a cabin at the forest’s edge. Evelyn was laid on a cot, her wound stitched, her breathing shallow.

Henry sat beside her. His head spun with questions he couldn’t voice.

The gray-haired man entered, setting down a tray of water and bread. “Eat,” he said. “You’ll need your strength.”

Henry didn’t move. “Why are you helping us?”

“Because once, someone helped me.” The man whispered.

It wasn’t an answer Henry understood, but it was enough. For now.

Evelyn stirred, whispering his name. Henry grabbed her hand, relief flooding him.

But her eyes opened wide, fear flashing in them. “Henry… listen. Never trust… Alpha Darius. His death—it wasn’t—”

Her words broke off as pain gripped her. She gasped, then drifted into unconsciousness again.

Henry froze. His death?

Darius was alive when they were exiled. He was the one who condemned them. So why would she speak as if he were already gone?

Before Henry could ask, the gray-haired man returned, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Rest, boy. Your mother needs time.”

But Henry’s mind refused rest. His mother knew something. Something about Darius.

And if she was right, then exile wasn’t the end of their story. It was only the beginning.

That night, Henry couldn’t sleep. The hunters’ cabin creaked, the smell of antiseptic clung to the air. He sat by the window, staring at the dark line of trees.

He thought about Darius’s sneer, the pack’s silence, the rogues’ hunger. He thought about the moment in the woods when the wolf faltered under his gaze—when something inside him pushed back.

He didn’t understand it. But he would.

A shadow moved outside. Henry’s breath caught. For a moment, he thought it was another rogue. But no—the figure stood upright, watching.

Then it vanished into the forest.

Henry pressed his hand to the glass, heart pounding. Whoever it was… they hadn’t come to rescue.

They had come to make sure exile didn’t save him.

And Henry knew then, with bone-deep certainty, that his mother’s warning was true.

Alpha Darius wasn’t finished with them, not yet.