The First Heir Novels & Stories

Alessa asked as she bit her lip. “Okay. First thing you should know is, Bryan is the head of the family now and he has everything in his name and not yours. Do you want to know the craziest part? Aiden isn't the heir, it's Aria. Aria is the heir to the Hart’s fortune while Aiden is the heir to mine.” Alessa explained and his eyes widened in shock.

"From the very beginning, the heir was the one in Stella's belly!" "This was just an unacknowledged bastard, a creature no one wanted. Why should he have been born?" "So he could live his life branded as a 'mutt'?" I was a walking corpse, shuffling toward the future Don, leaving a trail of scarlet on the floor. Each step left a bloody footprint, a gruesome trail of what we had lost. I stopped right in front of him and asked, my voice devoid of emotion. "Tell me, who was ever looking forward to the birth of the true Gallo heir?"

His claws curled into his palms. The scent of her blood filled the air. Too much blood. He was their firstborn—the heir to the throne of Vargrheim. By the sacred laws woven into the kingdom’s history, the first child sired by an Alpha and his mate would inherit the mantle of leadership, marked by blood and destiny. But such a birth came with a price.

He was inside my mate's wolf, wearing Killian's body like it belonged to him. “Which heir?” I asked, forcing the words past my tight throat as I kept my eyes locked on his face. I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear it from him. “The firstborn Alpha son,” Orson answered through Killian, his lips curving into a smile that made my stomach turn. “He belongs to the First Pack.”

I just looked at that word, four little letters, and felt the floor of my whole life tilt sideways. Heir. Of what? Of whom? Was it a bloodline? A throne? A promise? I had no idea. I refused to guess. I refused to let my heart tell me a story that my head hadn't earned. But I kept looking at it anyway. The missing page. The second copy. The changed records. The First Crown. The protected bloodline. The erased name. The Keeper. And now this. It wasn't a puzzle anymore. It was a picture, and I could finally see the edges of it.

“He would have weakened me!” “And you killed him,” the grandmother whispered. The floor split open. A massive silver structure rose from beneath the cradle. It resembled a throne, but instead of a seat, it held an empty space shaped like a child. Lyra’s forehead mark burned. A voice emerged from the structure. “First heir recognized.” Everyone turned toward Lyra. Karl immediately moved beside her. “What does that mean?” The grandmother stared at the rising structure. “The first heir was meant to inherit the original heart. Not to rule creation, but to decide whether anything should be allowed to exist without fear.”

“Who is he?” Kieran didn’t answer right away. His gaze was still fixed on the crack in the ground. “His name is…” He took a deep breath. “Lucien.” Serafina furrowed her brow. “Lucien who?” Kieran looked at her. “Lucien Lunareth.” Serafina’s heart seemed to stop. “Lunareth?” Kieran nodded. “The first heir to that kingdom.” Serafina stared at the ground. “If he’s the first heir…”

I would not allow either man to hide behind the other. “You encouraged him to separate loyalty from marriage,” I said. “He was eager to believe it.” “You knew he would hurt me.” “I knew pain would wake you.” My wolf growled. The glowing symbols flared. Cassius’s eyes brightened. “There she is.” “Who?” “The heir.” “I am not your heir.” “You are Nightveil’s rightful First Daughter.” “That was my mother’s title.” “And it passed to you.” “My mother is alive.” “She abandoned it.”

Luckily for the family, Tengku Imran had left children behind—otherwise the line of Dato Hasim Lim would have died with them, since Ela could never bear a child after her womb was taken. Tengku Imran's children, Rohima and Balkan, were raised by his widow until they came of age. And the older they grew, the more thoroughly their mother's words took hold of them: that the fortune now in the hands of their uncle and aunt, Hasim and Ela, was their grandfather's legacy—and that as the eldest son's children, Tengku Imran's blood, it was theirs by right, and would naturally fall to Balkan and Rohima.

“We’re ending the Order.” Salvatore tightened his grip. “To end it, you’ll need the First Son.” “Who is that?” “Not who,” he whispered. “What.” He looked at Dante. “The First Son is an assassin raised to kill every heir who refuses the oath.” Somewhere beyond the hospital walls, that assassin had already received Alessia’s name.