Alpha Jacobs Pov
My jaw hung slack. Jennifer and Thomas? *Mates*? The scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, usually comforting in my den, now felt thick and suffocating. I should have seen it.
The tremor in River's paws, the wide, haunted eyes when my father brought her here – a tiny, terrified wolfling, alone. I knew the chill of a father's shadow, the icy grip of fear. My own father, his claws still stained with the blood of my pack's former drunk, the man whose life had been ripped away. River shouldn't have paid for it. Jennifer's silky smooth words, painting a picture of a wolf less omega, a harmless shadow. The lie tasted like ash in my mouth. *This far?* To be with me? To betray Thomas, her mate? Her face flashed before me – Jennifer, my childhood friend, the daughter of my father's former Beta. I hadn't chosen her as my Beta. Thomas was the better choice – strong, capable, a natural leader. I'd known him since we were pups, his father a legend, the pack's best tracker, a soldier forged in the fires of a thousand battles. Thomas, tough as granite, a reflection of his father's iron will. The betrayal stung worse than a viper's bite. The image of Jennifer and Thomas, locked in a primal embrace, burned into my mind. How could I ever forgive them? The heavy oak door splintered inward, the sound like a gunshot. My father, Alpha Caden, stood silhouetted in the doorway, his face a thundercloud. The scent of ozone and raw power filled the room. His voice, a guttural roar, ripped through the silence. "Why is the king still here?" he boomed, his eyes blazing. "What did you *do*, boy?"
A snort escaped me, a laugh bubbling up, before I could stop it. "What *I* did?" I echoed, the question hanging in the air thick with unspoken accusations. "Maybe you should ask what *your* beta daughter did."
My father, his face etched with the harsh lines of age and worry, sat heavily in the worn leather armchair, the scent of pipe tobacco clinging to the worn fabric.
"Have a seat, Dad," I said, my voice low and deliberate, "and let me tell you how the King met his mate." His eyes, the same shade of stormy grey as the sky outside the ancient, stone-walled room, narrowed.
"Who?" he rasped, the word barely audible above the crackling fire in the hearth. "You know," I said, leaning back, the firelight dancing in my eyes.
"That *wolfless* Omega. The one you brought in to pay off her father's gambling debts." His eyes widened, a flicker of understanding, then horror, crossing his face. He visibly recoiled. "Yeah," I confirmed, a smirk playing on my lips.
"That's the one. And she's not wolfless, Dad. Your *beta* daughter drugged her to supress her wolf." "Why?" he choked out, the word a raw, desperate plea. "Because," I said, my voice dripping with a condescending sweetness, "she's a white wolf. Rare. With eyes the color of amethyst." The shock in his eyes was almost tangible. But beneath the shock, something else shimmered – a flicker of something akin to longing. A painful, almost desperate longing. A renewed wave of amusement washed over me. "Oh, and if that's not enough," I added, the laughter now genuine, a little wild, a little dangerous, "Jennifer and Thomas are mates." The words hung in the silence, punctuated only by the crackle of the fire and the frantic thump-thump-thump of my father's heart.
"Jennifer can *reject* Thomas?"
The words scraped across my ears, a venomous hiss in the suffocating silence of the office. My father's scent, usually a comforting blend of leather and woodsmoke, was now acrid, laced with barely suppressed rage.
"An *easy fix*, he says? As if severing a bond forged by the moon goddess was some trivial matter!" The polished mahogany desk gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, reflecting the tremor in my hands. I could taste the metallic tang of fear, a bitter aftertaste to the words that choked me.
"We'll call them in," he continued, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the floor. "Explain… *everything*." The very air seemed to crackle with his fury. His eyes, usually warm, now burned with a cold, predatory light.
"No, Father!" The denial ripped from my throat, raw and desperate. The scent of his anger, sharp and stinging, filled my nostrils, a brutal assault on my senses.
"She will *not* be my Luna! I will not be bound to a woman who spurns me!" His snarl was a physical thing, a palpable wave of violence that slammed into me.
"We made a deal. With *her* father. And that deal will be honored!" The slam of his fist on the desk wasn't just a sound; it was a seismic tremor that rattled the very foundations of my carefully constructed world. The scent of splintering wood, sharp and bitter, mixed with the coppery tang of blood that welled in my wounded pride.
"You… *do not… have a choice*," he hissed, his voice dripping with the chilling weight of absolute power. The intensity of his gaze burned into me, searing my soul. I felt the cold sweat prickling my skin, the frantic hammering of my heart a drumbeat of impending doom. This wasn't just a disagreement; it was a battle for my very destiny, and I was already losing.
The scent of woodsmoke and fear clung to the air, thick and cloying. My father's question hung between us, a poisoned dart: *Has the King marked the Omega yet?* My head shook, a violent refusal. The silence that followed was a tangible thing, heavy as the iron crown he craved.
"Good," he rasped, his voice a low growl, the words tasting of ash and bitter triumph. "Then when do they leave?" His eyes, sharp and hungry, burned into mine. "Tomorrow," I breathed, the word catching in my throat. The metallic tang of blood flooded my mouth.
"Why?" I demanded, my voice a tremor in the suffocating stillness. He turned, his silhouette a grim monument against the dying light. His gaze, fixed on the storm-wracked sky, was chilling.
"Because I want that white wolf," he said, his voice low and dangerous, each syllable a viper's strike. "She holds the key, girl. She's the answer to our pack's damnation – or its salvation." The unspoken threat hung in the air, sharp as shattered glass.
"You. Cannot. Do. That," I spat, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. The stench of his stale cologne, usually a comfort, now felt like a suffocating shroud. He's *her* mate, the King's—*the King's*—and the icy grip of dread tightened around my heart.
"She's mine, I tell you. Mine!" His words were a choked sob, a desperate plea lost in the suffocating weight of his power.
"Stay out of this. Let me handle it. Marry Jennifer. Keep the plans going." His voice, a low, silken rasp, slithered into my ears like a venomous snake. The image of Jennifer's vacant smile, her empty eyes, flashed before me—a future I could not, would not, accept.
"Father!" My voice cracked, raw with fury and despair. The fear was a burning brand on my skin. "This… this will not happen. I will not allow it!" The air crackled with unspoken threats. A guttural growl, a beast unleashed from the depths of his soul, ripped through the silence. The vibrations thrummed through the ancient stone floor, rattling my teeth. His eyes, usually cold and calculating, blazed with incandescent rage. "You forget who you are speaking to, boy. You will do as I command, or I will *crush* you. I will *erase* you from this family, from this kingdom, from this *life*." The threat hung heavy, a palpable weight pressing down on me, suffocating the last vestiges of my defiance.
I laugh, a brittle, unconvincing sound, and meet his gaze. The bravado is a thin veneer cracking under the weight of my fear. "The king will kill you if he finds out," I say, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. My father's eyes, are cold, hard flint. "You tell him," he spits, his voice low and dangerous, "and I will kill you." The threat isn't empty; I've seen the glint of that same lethal fury in his eyes before. He's my father, the man who taught me right from wrong, the man I worshipped as a child. But this…this is different. This is a choice between my loyalty to him and my sense of justice, a loyalty forged in years of unconditional love crumbling before the brutal reality of his actions.