Alexander's POV
The night my family was destroyed, the moon turned red as blood.
It's a sight seared into my memory, vivid and unrelenting—the haunting crimson glow that bathed the snow-covered woods, casting long shadows through the skeletal branches. I was only a boy then, barely old enough to shift, but old enough to feel the power in the air. Old enough to know something terrible was about to happen. My father had warned me: "Stay in the woods, Alexander. Do not come back to the manor no matter what you hear."
I remember hiding in the hollow of an ancient oak, trembling as howls and screams echoed through the trees. The sounds of battle—of wolves clashing, jaws snapping, bodies hitting the ground. I dug my claws into the rough bark, holding on to the scent of blood and fur that wafted through the night, my heart pounding so hard I thought it might burst out of my chest.
And then silence.
I should have stayed hidden. I should have listened to my father's command, but some twisted instinct drove me out of that hollow and into the clearing beyond the woods. What I saw when I emerged from the darkness would haunt me for the rest of my life.
The once-grand Knight family manor was a blazing inferno, flames licking hungrily at the stone walls as if trying to devour every last remnant of my family's legacy. Bodies littered the ground—wolves and humans alike, twisted and broken, their blood painting the snow crimson. And in the center of it all, beneath the scarlet moon, stood a figure draped in a robe as dark as midnight.
The Curse Keeper.
She was unlike anything I'd ever seen, a phantom from the deepest pits of a nightmare. Her face was hidden beneath the shadows of her hood, but her eyes glowed—redder than the moon above, sharper than a blade. I knew without a doubt that she was the one responsible for the slaughter. The air around her pulsed with dark magic, a palpable force that made my wolf snarl and struggle beneath my skin, demanding release.
"You shouldn't be here, little wolf," she said, her voice a low, silky murmur that sent chills racing down my spine. "But it's too late now, isn't it?"
I didn't respond. My gaze was fixed on the figure crumpled at her feet—my father. Alpha Marcus Knight, the strongest Alpha in the entire Northern Territories, the man I had always thought invincible, lay broken and bleeding, his chest heaving with labored breaths. His silver fur was matted with blood, his once-mighty frame shrunken and weak.
"Father—" I choked, taking a step forward, but the Curse Keeper lifted a slender hand, and invisible chains wrapped around my limbs, yanking me back. Pain flared through my body, hot and blinding, and my wolf, Fenrir, roared inside me.
Let me out! he snarled, his voice a guttural growl that reverberated through my bones. We'll tear her apart!
But I couldn't. I couldn't even move.
"Such fire," she mused, tilting her head as if studying me. "The blood of Alphas runs strong in your veins, little one. But that won't save you."
With a flick of her wrist, the chains tightened, forcing me to my knees. I gritted my teeth, refusing to cry out even as agony raked through every nerve. The Curse Keeper turned her gaze back to my father, who was struggling to lift his head.
"Do you know why I'm here, Marcus?" she asked softly. "Do you know why your bloodline must be purged?"
My father's growl was weak, but defiant. "Because you're a coward."
Her laughter was soft, almost musical—a sound so incongruous with the carnage around us that it made my stomach twist.
No," she murmured. "I am here because of a promise. A promise made centuries ago, when your ancestors betrayed mine. You see, the Knights are cursed, Alpha Marcus. Cursed to lose everything they love. And tonight, that curse reaches its zenith."
She reached into the folds of her robe and withdrew a small, twisted dagger. The blade was black as pitch, etched with runes that pulsed with a sickly green light. My father stiffened, his eyes widening with recognition—and fear.
"This blade was forged in the heart of a dying star," the Curse Keeper whispered, running a finger along its edge. "It will seal your fate, Marcus. The fate of your entire line."
"No!" I shouted, struggling against the chains, but they only tightened, digging into my flesh until I could taste blood. Fenrir howled in rage, clawing at the barriers that held him trapped inside me.
The Curse Keeper glanced at me, and for a moment, I saw something flicker in her gaze—something almost like pity.
"This is for your own good, little wolf," she murmured. "For if the curse is not sealed, your true mate will be your undoing."
With that, she drove the blade into my father's heart.
A howl tore from my throat, raw and savage, as my father convulsed, his body arching off the ground. The runes on the dagger flared bright, and a web of dark energy erupted from the wound, spreading outwards like a spider's web. It lashed through the air, winding around my father's body, then shooting towards me.
I screamed as the curse wrapped around my chest, searing into my flesh. The world dissolved into a haze of pain and darkness, my vision narrowing until the only thing I could see was the Curse Keeper's face, those glowing red eyes boring into mine.
"Remember this, Alexander Knight," she whispered, her voice echoing in my skull. "You are bound to this curse until the day your true mate walks into your life. But know this—she will be the key to your destruction. Her bloodline will bring ruin to everything you have built. You will lose control, lose everything, the moment you dare to love her."
And then she was gone, vanishing into the shadows like a ghost, leaving me alone with the smoldering ruins of my home and the broken body of my father.
The curse never left me.
It stayed with me through the years, a dark shadow lurking beneath my skin, whispering its poison in my ear. Every time I tried to feel—tried to care, to let anyone close—the curse tightened its grip, reminding me that I was marked. Damned. That I would bring ruin to anyone I dared to love.
I learned to lock it away, to bury every emotion, every weakness, beneath layers of steel and ice. I built walls around my heart, forged an empire out of blood and power, and made myself a fortress no one could breach.
And yet, even now, centuries later, I can still hear her words. She will be your undoing.
My wolf, Fenrir, growls softly in the back of my mind, his presence a dark, comforting weight. We will not break, he rumbles. We will never let anyone close enough to hurt us.
"No," I agree quietly, staring out at the city skyline from the penthouse office of Knight Enterprises. The moon is full tonight, its silver light gleaming off the glass and steel towers that rise around me like sentinels. But I feel no peace, no satisfaction. Only the familiar, hollow ache of loneliness.
"We will never love."
But even as I say the words, I can feel the curse stirring, shifting, as if in anticipation. As if it knows something I don't.
Fenrir's growl deepens, a warning rumble that reverberates through my chest.
She's coming, he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous. Our mate. The one we're destined to destroy.
I clench my fists, a shiver of something cold and sharp slicing through me. Fear. Rage. Desire.
"No," I whisper, my eyes narrowing as I stare out into the night. "We'll kill her before she can destroy us."
Because I am Alexander Knight. Alpha. CEO. And I will not let anyone—not even my mate—tear down what I've built.
Not again.
Never again.