Alpha Twin's Regret
My father scoured the underground markets and bought my sister and me a pair of twin wolf-blood slaves.
Catherine snatched the tall, powerfully built brother first—his alpha scent already awakening despite the silver shackles. That left me with the scrawny, silver-poisoned "cripple" whose wolf seemed permanently dormant.
I pitied the poor bastard. His wolf was so suppressed I could barely catch his scent, so I kept him close, hoping my presence might help him heal.
His legs were useless, twisted from what looked like forced silver injections. I dragged him to every back-alley healer and rogue pack doctor I could find, desperate to purge the poison from his system.
I figured some brutal werewolf hunter had shattered both him and his wolf.
Until my dad's rival pack snatched us both during the blood moon.
He exploded from his wheelchair in a surge of raw alpha power, his true scent hitting me like a freight train. Golden eyes blazing, when my father's enemy aimed a silver gun at my sister, he grabbed me and shielded her from six bullets.
"I'm sorry, Catherine can't die. I'll make it up to you in the next life."
That's when it hit me—he wasn't crippled, wasn't even an omega.
The silver poisoning? That was all just for me.
I blinked... and woke up on slave-picking day.
This time, I set him free.