Alec's Fallen Crown Novels & Stories

“Aeryn.” The voice froze me. Low. Icy. Etched into my memory like old wounds. My father. I turned slowly. Alpha Cael, my father stood beneath the remains of the main hall arch, whole and hale, armor gleaming with frost-forged steel. But his eyes were hollow. Lifeless. Judging. “You were never meant to lead,” my father said. “You're dead,” I answered. “And I didn’t come back for your legacy.” “No,” his father replied. “You came back for her.”

She mumbled something. Scott did care too much and called his assistant. “Pull all strings and search the entire pack for Claire.” “Alright, Mr. Scott. But are you really going to use all of your family’s money to buy the shares? What if the capital chain ruptures? We won’t be able to protect ourselves by then.” Scott was unhappy about people doubting his capabilities. Since Claire was involved, he patiently said, “Don’t worry. After Gerald dies, I’ll become the Alpha, and no one can compare to me. Even if someone else joins the auction, Claire has the right to decide who receives the shares, and she’ll choose me.”

“Wouldn’t he?” The silence that followed was answer enough. Before either of them could speak again, the trumpets sounded. The sharp, ceremonial call cut through the open window, through the room, through Zayden’s chest like a blade. Kailee stiffened instantly, her arms tightening around his shoulders as the amplified voice of the herald followed, formal and unyielding. “By order of the Crown,” the voice rang out, “it is hereby announced that King Earic of Ancnix has passed. By right of blood and succession, Prince Gregory Forstfang shall be crowned King of Ancnix at midday tomorrow.”

Three days later—after Kael had slept for nearly twenty hours and woken hungry enough to eat an entire deer—the Blood Moon council convened. I stood in the great hall of the Blood Moon Kingdom for the first time. Kael stood beside me. Elara flanked my other side. Before us, on the raised dais, the council of elders sat in judgment. They brought Casbian in last. He looked broken. The recall had stripped more than his Alpha power—it had hollowed him out. His ice-blue eyes were dull. His shoulders slumped. The chains on his wrists were silver.

Settling on the couch in front of the screen, I opened my soda and waited while Mason chose a game for us. ** I V Y I don't know for how many hours I've been lying down on my bed and staring at the ceiling. The only thing I could think of was the mafia. Ace was part of the Italian mafia. Did Mason know? Was he part of it too? I had so many questions yet answers to none. I couldn't just go and ask them, 'hey guys, are y'all part of the Italian mafia?' I was not dumb. They would ask me questions, like, how do I know of the tattoo? Where did I see it? And I wasn't ready to let anyone know that part of my life yet.

Everything Alec had built every dark empire, every lie was now collapsing under its own weight. But Damien knew better than to celebrate early. Cornered animals don’t lie down. They bite. Meanwhile, in an underground suite Alec had prepared as a last resort, he poured a drink with shaking hands. All his accounts had been frozen. His lawyers were disappearing one by one. His phone buzzed with threats, subpoenas, and federal alerts. He smashed the glass against the wall. He hadn’t come this far to lose to Damien Blackwood. He opened a drawer, pulled out a velvet case, and opened it. Inside was a gold-plated revolver and a flash drive.

Nadazhda nodded slowly while he held her tiny hand in his big hand, which engulfed it. "Awwwwwn," she didn't know where this sound came from. The man stepped forward, smiling at her while his eyes gave nothing, only knowledge, wisdom, and experience. "I'm Alec knight, the decedent of King Solomon," he bowed his head a little while she stared at him dumbfounded because she didn't understand what was happening. A descendant of King is bowing to you! Her common sense filled her in a while her eyes widened in horror. A descendant was bowing!

“Enjoy the view of the life you tried to steal from me… while you rot in the one you deserve.” I had already turned toward the door, the sharp click of my heels marking the end of this pitiful chapter, when a broken sob tore through the room behind me. “Chelley… wait… please…” Alec’s voice cracked, raw and trembling. I paused, glancing over my shoulder. He was hunched forward in his chair, shoulders shaking violently as tears streamed down his face. The once-arrogant Kensington looked utterly shattered—eyes red, face blotchy, cuffs digging into his wrists as he strained against them.

Each link forged from melted-down weapons. She dyed the silk with gunpowder ash. She laced it with threads soaked in her own blood. It wasn’t a dress. It was war. She named it Ashes of Crown. — When Alec came back three days later, he didn’t speak. He just dropped a key on her desk. “To my vault,” he said. “The real one. Not the one in Paris. The one that holds everything. If you still don’t trust me, open it.” She waited until he left.

“No, I think he just enjoys being a momentous pain in my ass too much. And he wants the throne back.” “You said that. Speaking of thrones and titles, Alec ascended to Alpha of Silver Dawn.” “I know, and I’m very proud of him. Now he can scowl at me legally at every High Council meeting. Quite entertaining.” “You two need to stop antagonizing each other.” She says with a glint of amusement in her eyes. “Hey! I take offense to that, he was the one who commented on my giant ego, and you, my dearest mate, agreed.”