It’s crisis after crisis. One after another, weighing me down, trying to bury me…
No queen. No heirs. No wolf.
The rumors are beginning to spread. My shameful secret is getting out.
My pack hasn’t seen my wolf in almost a year.
No one has dared ask me to my face what happened, but they all know.
They cansmellit on me. The absence. The vacancy. The lack.
It won’t be long before my kingdom falls into open rebellion.
I hear the rumors. The whispering. I have ears all over my kingdom.
I know where this will lead.
They say I’m going soft. That the kingdom is cracking. That I’m not up for the challenge. That the crown is too much for me.
I peer inside, trying to rouse my wolf.
And… nothing.
Even with a full moon hovering in the sky. With newly bound mates and would-be mates in waiting all around me.
Nothing.
Not even a whimper.
I sigh as my shoulders drop, the heaviness unbearable.
Maybe they’re right. Maybe I’m not enough. Maybe I shouldn’t be ruling.
A Wolf King without a wolf is no king at all.
But abdicating the throne would be horrific for these people who have trusted me with their safety and their lives.
There would be open war all over the Moonborne Kingdom. Every noble alpha would make a run for the throne. Pack against pack. All that violence and death. The needless destruction. The pain would echo through centuries.
And it wouldn’t just be the wolves. The humans would cross the borders with their pointy metal sticks, trying to eliminate us all. The other great wolf kingdoms—the Stormfur Realms to the east and the vicious Blood Alphas to the south—would smell the blood in the air and would attempt to peel off territory to expand their kingdoms.
No. I will not allow it. I must go on.
An alpha does not have the luxury of rest.
The pack survives because I carry this burden for them.
They look to me, and I cannot falter.
If I weaken, they all bleed.
“I am alpha,” I whisper to myself. “I endure.”
The last couple approaches and kneels in front of me.
“Rise,” I command.
My heart aches as they stand.
