Prologue
DRAVEN
The fire crackled in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room as Lyra darted around the table, her laughter ringing like silver bells. She flashed me a triumphant grin, my stolen steak clutched in her hand, and I couldn't help but smirk.
"No!" she protested, already anticipating my retaliation.
I leaned back in my chair, feigning indifference. "What did Mother say about playing while eating?"
"That won't make me sit beside you," she shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I know you've got something planned."
"I'm not going to deny it."
She gasped in mock outrage. "Mother! Father! Tell Draven to back off!"
Our parents exchanged an amused glance, their laughter warm and indulgent.
My father, the fearsome Alpha of the Silvershadow Pack, looked nothing like the ruthless leader he was in this moment—just a man enjoying dinner with his family.
My mother's joy was infectious, her smile lighting up the room.
For a heartbeat, I wished this could last forever.
Then, without warning, the air turned frigid.
My father froze, his fork suspended mid-air. His eyes glazed over, his body rigid as if seized by an unseen force. The playful banter died in my throat.
Lyra's smile faltered. "Father?"
No response.
My mother reached for him, her voice trembling. "Alaric?"
But the man before us was no longer my father. His grip tightened around her wrist, his fingers digging into her flesh. A low, guttural growl rumbled from his chest, and my blood turned to ice.
I lunged forward. "Let her go!"
My fists pounded against his chest, but he didn't flinch. His gaze locked onto mine, empty yet filled with something monstrous.
"Run!" my mother gasped, her voice strained. "Take Lyra and go!"
I couldn't. I wouldn't.
The snap of bones echoed through the room as his body twisted, his human form giving way to the beast beneath. My mother shifted in a blur of fur and fangs, throwing herself between us and the monster that had once been her mate.
But even she was no match for the madness that had taken him.
A scream tore from her throat as his jaws clamped around her neck. Blood sprayed across the walls, the metallic tang thick in the air. I stood paralyzed, my heart shattering as her struggles weakened, her body going limp in his grasp.
"NO!"
Lyra's sobs filled the silence, but all I could hear was the roar of my own pulse. The ceremonial knife gleamed on the table—my mother's blade, forged for protection.
I didn't think. I moved.
The blade sank into his side, and he staggered, his massive form collapsing to the floor. The madness faded from his eyes, replaced by a flicker of recognition.
"Draven..." His voice was a whisper, raw with regret. "I'm sorry."
My hands trembled as I clutched the hilt, his blood slick against my fingers. "Father..."
"Not your fault." His breath hitched. "Never... your fault."
And then he was gone.
The room was silent except for Lyra's choked cries. I turned to my mother's lifeless body, her blood staining my hands, my clothes, my soul.
The Alpha was dead. The Luna was gone.
And the boy who killed his own father?
He had nothing left to lose.