Never Again, Alpha
“Val, you will be the Alpha. Your brother is too weak to be one.”
I grew up with those words wrapped around my head and carved into my pride. They said it when I was eleven and Vladimir was thirteen when Vladimir coughed blood into handkerchiefs and collapsed on training grounds.
He was weak. Everyone saw it.
Vladimir was always pale, always shaking, always behind. His wolf barely surfaced when we were children, quiet, skittish, like it didn’t want to be there at all. While I ran until my lungs burned, he wheezed. While I fought, he watched. While the warriors trained me harder, faster, sharper, they told him to rest.