Life in the Shadowfang pack was anything but boring—at least, not for Ronan. Sure, his father was obsessed with discipline, training, and making sure the pack remained strong, but Ronan? He had other priorities.
Like winning last night's football game, sleeping in past sunrise, and sneaking away from training whenever he could.
The village buzzed with its usual morning routine—warriors sparring, hunters heading out, and elders gathering to discuss the "future of the pack," whatever that meant. Ronan jogged across the main clearing, wolfing down a stolen piece of bread from the kitchens, his boots kicking up dust as he dodged pack members who were actually busy doing important things.
"Ronan!"
ugh. Busted.
Rook, his best friend and future Beta, jogged up beside him. "You do realize your father expects you at training? Like, now?"
Ronan grinned. "I was just on my way."
Rook snorted. "Right. And I'm the Moon Goddess."
Before Ronan could throw back a sarcastic reply, a deep voice cut through the clearing. "Ronan."
Oh, fantastic.
Alpha Rael stood with arms crossed, his silver eyes locked onto his son with all the warmth of an ice storm. "Late. Again."
Ronan swallowed his bite of bread. "Fashionably late."
His father's scowl deepened. "You think this is a joke? While you're running around, the pack is working. Training. Preparing for the future."
"I train."
"Not enough."
Ronan sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Look, I'll do the drills, I'll fight Garrick, I'll even sit through another one of Jarek's 'leadership' lectures—just, can we not do this whole disappointed-father thing before breakfast?"
Rael's jaw tightened, but before he could reply, a small voice piped up. "Ronan's always late."
Ronan turned to see his little sister, Elara, watching with an innocent smirk. She was ten, but somehow, she always seemed to have a sixth sense for when to appear and make his life more difficult.
"Traitor," Ronan muttered, flicking her forehead.
Elara giggled and dodged away as their mother, Lyria, appeared behind her. "Leave your brother alone," she said lightly, though the look she gave Ronan clearly meant, Listen to your father.
Rael exhaled. "Get to training."
Ronan gave a mock salute before jogging off with Rook, barely holding back a grin. "That went well."
Rook shot him a look. "You really have a death wish, don't you?"
.
When Ronan wasn't being nagged about training, he was at Blackthorn High—the other place he ruled.
Here, he wasn't "Future Alpha Ronan" or "Stop-Disappointing-Your-Father Ronan." Here, he was just Ronan Wolfe, star athlete, class flirt, and the guy everyone wanted to be around.
The moment he walked in, heads turned. Girls whispered, guys tried to act cool, and the teachers just sighed, already anticipating whatever trouble he was about to start.
"Ronan!"
A group of cheerleaders waved from across the hallway. He shot them his signature grin, winking at one of them just to hear her giggle.
Rook groaned. "You do realize you can't date half the school, right?"
"Why not?" Ronan asked innocently. "I'm very efficient."
Before Rook could respond, a teacher called from down the hall. "Mr. Grey! Where should you be right now?"
Ronan plastered on his most charming smile. "Ms. Kelly, I was just about to head to class. You read my mind."
Ms. Kelly crossed her arms, unimpressed. "Then move. Now."
Rook snickered as they hurried to class. "One day, that smile's not gonna save you."
Ronan smirked. "Maybe. But today is not that day."
.
.
Alpha Rael stood alone in his study holding a letter scanning the contents of it. No one knew who sent it, and no one but him would know what it said. After reading it he raised his head expression grave and walked towards the fire place, burning the paper.
By nightfall, he had summoned the entire pack to the central meeting hall.
The Shadowfang wolves gathered, their murmurs filling the hall. It was rare for the Alpha to call such an urgent meeting without warning, and tension hung thick in the air.
Ronan stood near the front with Rook at his side, watching his father step onto the raised platform. Rael's expression was unreadable, his posture rigid. The moment he raised his hand, silence fell.
"Effective immediately, border security will be reinforced. Patrols will be doubled, and no one enters or leaves the territory without clearance from me or Jarek," Rael announced. "Training intensity will increase for all warriors. Those attending human school are to return directly to the village after classes—no detours. No exceptions."
A ripple of confusion spread through the crowd. Even the council members exchanged uncertain glances.
Ronan frowned. What the hell was going on?
One of the older warriors, Garrick, stepped forward. "Alpha, is there a threat we should be aware of?"
Rael's gaze was ice cold. "You have your orders. Prepare accordingly."
And just like that, the meeting was over.
As the pack dispersed, Ronan pushed through the crowd toward his father,
"Father, wait." He caught up to Rael just outside the hall. "What was that all about?"
Rael barely glanced at him. "Focus on your training, Ronan. That is what matters."
Ronan scowled. "Come on, you can't just drop something like that and expect me not to ask questions. What's going on?"
His father stopped walking then, turning to face him fully. For a second, Ronan thought he'd finally get an answer. Instead, Rael sighed, his expression colder than usual. "Not now."
"Not now?" Ronan repeated, adding bitterly. "Or not ever?"
Rael's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. After a long pause, he walked away, leaving Ronan standing in the corridor, fists clenched where Ronan couldn't see.
When he got home, as always Ronan found his mother in the kitchen, brewing tea.
Lyria looked up as he entered, immediately sensing the frustration in her son's face. "Something on your mind?"
Ronan sat down at the table, exhaling sharply. "You already know. The meeting, dad acting like I don't exist—what's going on?"
Lyria stirred her tea, choosing her words carefully. "Your father carries burdens that are not easy to share. Sometimes, the weight of leadership means making difficult decisions alone."
"Yeah, well, I'm his son," Ronan muttered. "His heir. If something's happening to the pack, I deserve to know."
She reached over, resting a hand on his. "And you will. But not yet."
Ronan searched her face for something—anything—that would give him more than that vague reassurance. But her soft, understanding gaze told him nothing more.
He pulled his hand away, frustration bubbling up. "Right. Of course. Another thing I don't get to know."
Lyria sighed as he stood, but she didn't stop him as he walked out the door
.
.
Frustration burned in Ronan's chest as he stormed away from his house, his mother's words still echoing in his mind. He knew she meant well—she always did—but it didn't make things any easier. His father shutting him out was nothing new, but this time, it felt different.
Without even realizing it, he found his feet taking him to Rook's place. His best friend's cabin was smaller than the Alpha's home but warm and welcoming, nestled between two towering pines. The moment Ronan knocked, the door swung open.
Rook took one look at his face and sighed. "Let me guess. You went to your dad for answers, and he gave you nothing?"
Ronan scoffed, stepping inside. "Less than nothing. He shut me down before I could even ask a real question. And my mom? Just told me to trust him."
Rook motioned for him to sit by the fireplace, where the fire burned cozily. He flopped into the chair across from Ronan and rested his arms on his knees. "Look, I get why you're pissed. But maybe it's one of those things that's better for fewer people to know. If it was something we all needed to hear, don't you think he would've told the whole pack?"
Ronan ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "I don't know. Maybe. But that just makes it worse. What could be so bad that even I can't know?"
Rook shrugged. "You're not Alpha yet. Maybe there are things only the Alpha has the right to carry. Maybe it's about protecting you."
"Or maybe he still doesn't think I'm ready to handle real responsibility." Ronan's voice was bitter.
Rook exhaled, shaking his head. "You don't actually believe that now do Ronan."
Ronan didn't answer right away. He wanted to say no, that he didn't believe it—but deep down, wasn't that exactly what it felt like? Like his father still saw him as a reckless kid who didn't deserve to be trusted with the pack's burdens.
Rook leaned back, watching him carefully. "Look, I know it sucks, but maybe you should just do what he says for now. Focus on training, lay low, and keep your eyes open. Whatever's going on, it'll come out eventually."
Ronan sighed, slumping into the chair. "Yeah. Maybe."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between them. Eventually, exhaustion started settling in. He stood, stretching. "I should head back. It's late."
Rook nodded. "Try not to let it eat you up. Thinking about it won't change anything."
Ronan gave a half-hearted chuckle. "Easier said than done."
By the time he made it home, the house was quiet. His parents' room was dark, and Elara was already asleep in her own bed. He crept into his room, shutting the door behind him, and dropped onto the mattress with a heavy sigh.
He stared up at the ceiling, mind racing despite his exhaustion. What was his father so afraid of that he wouldn't even tell his own son?
.
.
Ronan barely remembered falling asleep, but the sunlight creeping through his curtains and the distant sounds of the pack already at work forced him to roll out of bed. He groaned, stretching his sore muscles from yesterday's training, before pulling on a fresh shirt and stepping outside.
The village was already alive with activity—warriors sharpening weapons, hunters preparing for the day, and scouts moving in and out of the territory at a heightened pace. Whatever was going on, his father wasn't wasting any time reinforcing security.
Ronan made his way toward the training grounds, where he knew his father would be. The usual morning drills were in full swing, warriors sparring in pairs under the watchful eyes of the senior fighters. Among them stood Rael, speaking with Jarek, the head warrior and one of his most trusted advisors. Their conversation was quiet and looked serious
Ronan was about to step closer when a voice called out behind him.
"You look like you slept great."
He turned to see Rook approaching, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Yeah, amazing. Spent half the night wondering if my father's planning to drag us into a war and just forgot to mention it."
Rook fell in step beside him, glancing toward Rael. "Still shutting you out?"
"Completely," Ronan muttered. "And it's worse today. Look at them. They're planning something. I need to know what."
Before Rook could respond, Jarek clapped his hands, calling for everyone's attention.
"Listen up! Alpha's orders—training is being pushed to the next level. Morning drills are no longer optional for young wolves. All warriors must be prepared for emergency deployment at a moment's notice. Patrols will be running double shifts. You slack, you suffer. Understood?"
A unified "Yes, sir!" rang through the training grounds.
Ronan crossed his arms, watching as his father gave Jarek a curt nod before walking away without so much as a glance in his direction. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.
.
School that day was no better.
The weight of uncertainty hung over Ronan, making it impossible to focus on anything. Not even the usual flirtations or the admiration of his classmates could distract him. He breezed through the halls without his usual swagger, barely registering the greetings thrown his way.
At lunch, Rook nudged him. "Alright, you gotta snap out of it. You're making it too obvious something's up."
Ronan pushed his food around his tray. "Something is up. And I hate being left in the dark."
"Then maybe you should be patient?" Rook offered. "You're going to be Alpha one day. But right now? You're still learning. If it's a burden your father won't share, maybe there's a reason for it."
Ronan clenched his jaw but didn't argue. He hated waiting. Hated feeling useless, he knew Rook had a point but why did he have to wait till he becomes alpha to learn about things. Its so not fair
When school ended, Ronan returned home as ordered. The pack grounds was quiet. Everyone tense, alert. Warriors who before laughed between shifts now kept their conversations short and serious. Patrols passed through more frequently, and even the elders seemed uneasy.
At dinner, the silence in his home was suffocating.
Lyria did her best to keep things normal, asking Elara about her day, nudging Ronan to eat more, but it was clear Rael's mind was elsewhere. His father barely touched his food, his eyes distant, thoughts locked behind a wall Ronan couldn't break through.
Afterward, Ronan tried again.
"Dad—"
Rael stood before he could finish, placing his dishes in the sink. "I have work to do. Get some rest."
And just like that… he was gone.
Ronan clenched his fists under the table.
Lyria rested a gentle hand on his. "Give him time."
Ronan swallowed the frustration bubbling in his throat and gave her a small nod before standing. "Night, Mom."
He made his way to his room, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it.
Was he supposed to just sit here and watch his father hide shit from him like this?
.
.
Sleep didn't come easily that night.
Ronan lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts. His father's secrecy, the sudden security changes, the way the pack carried an unease they couldn't name—it all felt wrong. And the worst part? No one would tell him why.
By the time the moon was high in the sky, frustration had turned into slight anger. He needed answers.
Quietly, he got out of bed, careful not to wake Elara in the next room. He pulled on a hoodie, shoving his feet into his boots before slipping out the window. The cool night air hit him as he landed lightly on the ground. He moved swiftly, keeping to the shadows as he made his way toward the Alpha's cabin. If his father wouldn't talk, then maybe he could find out something on his own.
The village was mostly asleep, but the heightened patrols made sneaking around trickier than usual. He stuck to the trees, watching as two warriors passed by before making his way to the back of his dad's cabin. The study window was cracked open just enough for him to hear the voices inside.
"…It was addressed directly to me, no signature," his father's voice was low, serious. "Whoever sent it knew exactly what to say."
Jarek's voice followed. "And you're certain it wasn't just a bluff?"
"No. The details were too precise. The moment I saw what was written, I knew it could only come from someone who knows our history."
History?
There was a heavy silence before Rael continued. "We must prepare. If this reaches Ronan…"
Ronan's breath caught in his throat. Him?
He inched closer, straining to hear more, but the conversation dropped too low for him to make out. Then—
A shift in the wind.
Ronan's instincts flared as he turned just in time to see a dark figure moving toward him. Before he could react, a hand clamped over his shoulder.
"Didn't take you for the sneaky type," Rook whispered.
Ronan exhaled sharply, relaxing. "What the hell are you doing?"
"Following you. What the hell are you doing?"
Ronan glanced back at the window, but the voices inside had stopped. He cursed under his breath, backing away before anyone could notice he was there.
Once they were a safe distance away, he crossed his arms. "They're hiding something from me, Rook. And whatever it is, it's about me."
Rook gave him a long look before sighing. "Alright. Then we find out what it is. Together."