Luca’s POV
I walked in silence, my boots carrying through the familiar corridors of the Alpha’s hall. Each step echoed through the stone walls, but I paid no attention to the sound. My mind was a storm.
A ss of emotions and responsibilities I couldn’t afford to ignore. I needed clarity, and for , that only ca through structure—through control. The best way to quiet the storm was to drown myself in work.
I pushed open the doors to my personal office. The scent of parchnt and aged wood hit like ho. The long obsidian table stretched across the room with old maps and new plans scattered across it, corners curled, stained with ink, sweat, and decisions made in blood. I sat down heavily at the head of the table and exhaled slowly, willing the chaos inside to settle.
There was no room for distractions. Not now.
Not with everything we had to rebuild.
The Silver Dawn Pack had been broken, shattered by the war we waged to take back what was ours. We had won—but winning did not feel like triumph. It felt like another burden. Another mountain to climb.
Our Silver Dawn Pack, once proud and vast, had been nearly wiped out. And now, thousands of Silver Dawn wolves lived under our rule, most of them still uncertain if they were prisoners or family.
My brothers and I had made the decision the mont we seized the Crimson throne. We would not beco Alpha Eirik. We would not mimic the man who once wore the sa cold smile as he butchered our father.
Four years ago, things were different. We were eighteen. Young. Naive. Back then, we believed peace was possible. Our father had spoken often of unity. He believed we could bridge the distance between our packs. That one day, Crimson Fang and Silver Dawn could stand together.
Alpha Eirik played along with the illusion well.
He invited us—our entire family—to his territory for a celebration. I still rember the day. The sky had been clear, the air warm with the scent of pine and river wind. We were supposed to discuss treaties and trade. Strengthen bonds.
We brought no army, only a few of our most trusted guards, because we believed in diplomacy. My father believed in diplomacy.
And Eirik repaid that trust with blood.
I was in the outer hall when the slaughter began.
By the ti I reached the main chambers, the scent of blood was already everywhere—fresh and iron-thick. My mother’s scream echoed through stone before it was abruptly cut off. When I saw her body, blood gushing out from her throat, I couldn’t move.
My father fought to his last breath, back to back with our captain of guards, trying to shield us.
We were forced to run.
We ran with nothing but the clothes on our backs and the scars burning into our mory. I still rember Kael’s voice screaming my na. Lucian’s breathing turning into sobs. Aeron bleeding from his shoulder but refusing to fall behind.
It was our father’s Beta—Marek—who forced us to leave. He stayed behind to hold the line. Bought us enough ti to vanish into the woods, hunted like prey.
That day, we beca ghosts.
For four years, we disappeared from the world, hiding in outposts, abandoned dens, and rogue camps. We trained. We hunted. We prepared.
At that ti, The Silver Dawn Pack had been seized. Its lands were claid, its people reduced to nothing more than workers and livestock. Our warriors were branded as traitors. Our people lived like slaves.
And Eirik never branded them with the mark of a slave—not because he was rciful, but because he wanted the illusion of dignity while stealing their souls.
Now, all of that is over.
Eirik is dead. His rule has ended. His legacy shattered beneath our hands. But the damage remains, etched into the soil and the hearts of the people he used.
I rubbed my temples, staring down at the latest report from our border guards. It detailed the population status. Five thousand now, out of what was once thirty thousand. Only five thousand remained.
So many of them are killed, starved and scattered. So had simply stopped hoping. Others had disappeared without a trace. The ruins of what once was a proud pack were now our burden to resurrect.
rging the Crimson Fang and Silver Dawn packs wasn’t easy. We knew many of them still feared us—others hated us. But I had made it clear from day one. This war was never against the ogas or the workers. This was not a conquest for domination. This was retribution.
I did not hate the children who bowed their heads in fear when they passed . I did not loathe the young mothers who wept for sons they had lost on both sides. They deserved peace. They deserved a life better than the scraps Eirik had fed them.
But peace didn’t build itself. And loyalty was never given freely.
It had to be earned.
That was why I stayed up every night drawing maps of old Silver Dawn territory. I reviewed every structure, every broken ho, every waterline and trade route. I planned new settlents.
I arranged food distribution and border patrols. I calculated how to reestablish trade routes and safe zones. My job wasn’t to mourn what we had lost. It was to restore what we still had.
And yet...
Despite everything I had on my plate, my thoughts kept drifting back to her.
Selena.
The girl with alpha blood and broken eyes. The girl we hated for what she represented. The daughter of the man who destroyed our family. The girl who was supposed to be our trophy of victory—but sohow refused to break the way we expected.
Even now, the sound of her screaming at twisted sothing inside. I wanted to forget it. But I couldn’t.
She had begged to be listened to. Begged for soone to believe her. And today, soone finally spoke up in her defense.
I leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling, with tight jaw. Maybe I had misjudged her today. Or maybe I was just tired of seeing enemies in every face. I didn’t know anymore.
What I did know was this:
I couldn’t afford to let emotion cloud my judgnt. Not now. Not when so many lives rested on what I did next.
The pack needed to rise again.
And I would make sure it did....
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