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Sacred.
The Evergreen Pack lands are over two hundred and twenty square miles wide with an English castle at the center surrounded by smaller mansions where unmated wolves and guests find accommodations. That large manor is where the werewolf royal family has lived for generations, and with each ruling alpha serving his people for two centuries at the very minimum.
My father was the last king and remained so for three centuries, the longest reign before stepping aside and naming me his successor. After the exchange of power, one of the pack leaders from across the pond stepped forward to challenge the decision—a tosser that bared his neck after the first swipe of my clawed hand across his underbelly.
No other alpha or wolf made a sound. Every single one accepted and pledged allegiance to the werewolf throne.
However, she-wolves will challenge her.
A thought that angers me, and an angry roar slips through my lips. “Shift.”
“Yes, Alpha.” One by one the warriors begin to turn, the group of a hundred in attendance shedding their humanity for their beasts. These are my top two groups of fighters and leaders of my army, the most lethal being the elite ten which my gamma trains privately.
The rest rotate schedules, training in smaller clusters while switching guarding posts with each other with two days off in between every forty-eight-hour shift.
Trespassers near the main entrance—a witch and a warlock. They’re heading toward neutral grounds. Need backup.
Beta Timoth’s mind link makes me pause, eyes flicking to Cain. His posture is defensive, placing himself between his mate and an invisible threat. He also heard the call, all our fighters have, and I hold up a single finger.
We’re coming. Capture, but don’t kill.
I respond to Timoth through a separate link. Private.
Are you sure?
Never question me, Beta.
My apologies, my King.
“First group will be accompanying us.” At my orders, the elite fall into a formation a few feet from me. Tall, proud, and ready to defend. “All others will protect our perimeters and not move until I call you home. We’re on lockdown. Understood?”
“Yes, Alpha.”
With that I take off, shifting mid-sprint while the thunderous sounds of paws meeting the grassy fields grow louder. Angrier. No one here has forgotten what the Moore matriarch took from us, and by default, her kind is despised.
She’s been untouchable and under the king’s protection since then, but that won’t last forever. Moreover, within reason or not, I’ve killed more than a few witches over the last twelve months.
What will Isabella think? My heart clenches at the thought. At the knowledge that she’ll hate me—curse our bond—the day I tear out the heart of the woman who gave her life. The pain is sharp. It won’t change a thing, though.
I’m owed my pound of flesh. Revenge.
After the murder of my mum, we hunted those sects residing in England. Most were wise to flee the country, but the first casualties were a smaller coven of females that foraged too close to our borders, seeking a certain plant cultivated by the lake where I met Isabella.
Were they good people? No. Of this, I’m certain as their aura matched that of the male witch from a year ago. Dark and ominous, and when I found them taking enough wolfsbane to kill many of my kind, I tore out their hearts without a second of remorse.
But today it could be Isabella near the borders. What if she gets hurt?
The beast pushes me further back, taking full control in a blind rage of panic. We push past everyone, creating enough distance between us that I reach the tree line and take the first left toward my kingdom’s entrance. Not even Cain, who’s the second fastest, can keep up.
Trees begin to blur, blending into the background in hues of green and brown while the sunlight filters through pockets in between branches. My sharp claws scrape against the ground as I push myself faster, dodging any root or obstacle in my way. Those following have also picked up the pace, and before long I cross over the private passageway many don’t know about.
Almost there, Beta.
It leads me to the entrance but from the left, hidden behind a large statue of our first king while his luna is on the opposite side of the now open-wide iron gate. Large, the heavy stone monument shields me from view, and I slow down.
Timoth is standing guard over a man in a red robe no more than thirty feet from me, snarling while rogues surround him. Neutral grounds are just beyond the next tree line.
Instantly, my worry over Isabella boils into a merciless rage at the sight of the six frothing-at-the-mouth, mutts. These wolves are scum, a stain on our society—criminals that committed sins against their pack—and were exiled by those in charge or sentenced by my father during his time on the throne.
