The executioner and the Alpha King

Chapter 1

The woman jumped from her bed, heart pounding. She strained to listen—there it was again. That sound.

“No… no… this can’t be happening,” she whispered, panic in her voice, as she rushed into the next room.

She glanced at the one-year-old boy sleeping peacefully in his crib, then turned her eyes to the small white bed across the room. The little girl was still asleep, curled under a blanket, her breathing soft and slow.

“She’s only three,” the woman murmured, lifting the girl into her arms. “They can’t take her. She’s just a baby.”

“Samantha?” a sleepy male voice called from behind her. “What are you doing, love?”

“Carl,” she said in a hushed voice, opening the window. “They’re coming for her. I can hear them. I can’t let them take her. Watch Elias—I’ll take her to safety.”

Without waiting for a reply, she jumped through the window and took off toward the forest beyond. Her bare feet pounded the earth as the sounds behind her grew louder, closer.

“Mama?” the little girl asked sleepily, her voice muffled against Samantha’s shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“Just hold on, baby. Mama won’t let them take you. You’re safe with me.”

“What is scared, Mama?”

Samantha’s eyes welled with tears.

“Something you’ll never feel,” she whispered. “Now hold tight.”

She ran faster. Samantha knew this forest like the back of her hand, but now, everything felt foreign. Nothing was where it should be.

“Where the hell is the river? I can’t smell the water…” she muttered, voice tight with panic.

“Take a left, Mama. It’s behind the clearing where we had a picnic last week,” the little girl said calmly.

Samantha turned sharply and burst into the clearing. She stopped, sniffing the air.

They were close.

Too close.

They were surrounded.

A low growl built in her chest as she clutched her daughter protectively.

“She’s not yours to take. She’s my baby. Mine!”

From the shadows of the trees, twelve white wolves emerged, encircling her. One stepped forward.

“Stay away from us!” she shouted. “I will fight you to the death for her—and you know I’m not bluffing.”

The lead wolf halted, then slowly shifted into a human form. His hair was as white as snow, and his eyes held an unsettling kindness.

“Samantha,” he said gently. “She needs to come with us. Now.”

Samantha dropped to her knees, sobbing.

“She’s my baby. How can you ask me to give her up? I love her—I really love her.”

“If you truly love her,” the man said, stepping closer, “then you’ll let her go.”

Her hands trembled as she set the little girl down. She took the child’s hands and stared into her brilliant grey eyes.

“My beautiful baby girl… I love you.” Her voice cracked. “I will always love you. And Daddy loves you too. So, so much. You don’t have to go. I can—”

“But Mama,” the girl interrupted softly, “I saw this in my dream. I know I have to go with them. It’s okay.”

She cupped Samantha’s face with her tiny hands.

Samantha, tears falling freely now, unclasped the golden chain from around her neck—a single charm dangling from it—and fastened it around her daughter’s.

She kissed the girl’s forehead.

The old man stepped closer and lifted the child into his arms.

“So much power in such a little body,” he murmured, transfixed by her eyes.

The girl turned to look at Samantha, still kneeling, clutching her chest.

“I will remember you, Mama. You, Daddy, and Elias,” she said, touching the pendant at her neck.

As the moonlight touched it, the image of Artemis, the Greek goddess of the hunt, shimmered to life.

“How appropriate,” the old man whispered, touching the charm. “It’s time. We’re already late.”

The group of thirteen disappeared into the forest’s shadows.

Samantha’s anguished howl filled the night.

Back at the house, Carl stood at the window, staring at the moon.

“You better be watching over my daughter, Goddess,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of Sam and Elias.”

A single tear fell onto the small white teddy bear he held—her only reminder. Everything else—her clothes, her scent, her photos—was gone.

She was gone.