Darrian's POV
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Power is everything.
I once believed love had a place in this world. That the bond of a mate could temper the steel inside me. That softness didn't equal weakness.
That illusion had died somewhere between the veils and the battlefield.
Now, all that remained was clarity.
I ruled with dominance. Unquestioned authority. And my pack? It thrived under the force of my iron will.
So when my Beta stormed into my office, eyes wide and scent laced with alarm, I already knew I wouldn't like what he had to say.
"You'd better sit," he said.
I didn't.
He handed me a file instead. "It's Bloodmoon. They've got a new Alpha."
I flipped open the folder and scanned the report. "A she-wolf?"
"Not just any female. One who came out of nowhere. Her bloodline's unknown, but she's… gaining traction. Her pack's expanding faster than we can track. She's already made alliances with three neighboring packs. Rumors say she has Alpha blood. Real Alpha blood."
My eyes narrowed.
"I thought Marcus ruled Bloodmoon."
"He did. He vanished during the war. No one knows where he went."
Convenient.
"And this… female just rose from the ashes and took over?"
"That's what it looks like. Her people worship her. She's got power, Darrian. Presence."
The name on the report—Heather.
Something about it scratched at the walls of my mind, but the memory refused to surface. Like smoke slipping through my fingers.
No matter. If she was strong, if she was building something worth claiming—then I would claim it.
"She poses a threat," I said, tossing the file onto the desk. "And threats are either turned into assets or destroyed."
My Beta looked uneasy. "What do you want to do?"
I stood and walked to the window, watching the warriors training below. "Send a messenger. She gets two options: join me or step down. I'll absorb her pack. She can live, maybe even hold rank—under me. If she refuses?"
He waited.
I turned to him, expression stone.
"Then we go to war."
Two Days Later
The message had been sent. I stood by the gates, flanked by my top warriors, watching the courier vanish into the woods.
The she-wolf would receive my terms.
Surrender. Submission. Survival.
I would give her a choice—but make no mistake, I would not allow another Alpha, especially a female, to rise uncontested near my territory. It wasn't about ego. It was about strategy. My pack needed more land, more warriors, more allies. I would do anything to ensure that—absolutely anything.
"Are we sure she won't just laugh at the offer?" my Beta asked.
"If she's smart, she'll accept. I'm offering her peace. A place in my ranks. Even a seat beside me if she knows how to behave." I shrugged. "But if she has pride…" My lip curled. "She'll die with it."
A soft growl rumbled in my chest. The idea of crushing another Alpha thrilled something primal in me. Power wasn't just taken—it was earned. And if she wanted to play ruler, she needed to learn the cost.
My wolf paced within, restless. Hungry.
"You don't seem like yourself lately," my Beta said carefully. "Ever since the veils. Ever since—"
I shot him a glare. "That's over. Whatever I lost… it's gone. Forgotten."
But even as I said it, that name—Heather—drifted through my mind like a ghost.
Why did it feel like more than just a name?
That Night
I poured a glass of whiskey and stared at the fire.
Heather.
Alpha of Bloodmoon.
I repeated the name in my mind, over and over, like it might trigger something buried deep.
Nothing.
Just that damn ache. That missing piece I'd written off as weakness.
I would wipe her off the map if I had to. If she refused to kneel.
But some part of me wasn't convinced she would be that easy to beat.
Which made me want her submission all the more.
Not just because I needed her pack.
But because I needed to see if she would break.
Three days.
Three long days of silence since I sent my envoy to Bloodmoon with my offer.
I didn't expect a reply immediately, but I also didn't expect this gnawing unease clawing at my gut like a feral thing. It wasn't fear—it was worse. A ghost of something I couldn't name, and it stalked me every hour since she received my message.
My wolf paced behind my ribs, restless. Growling. Unsettled. The scent of something familiar teased the edge of my mind, like smoke from a long-dead fire.
"Alpha," Ronan approached quietly, head dipped in deference. "She sent a reply."
Finally.
I turned toward him, arms folded over my chest. "And?"
He hesitated. Not a good sign.
"She burned the letter you sent her. Sent the ashes back in a black box."
My brow arched. "That's it?"
"She added a note. Five words."
He held out a slip of scorched parchment.
Come and take it, Alpha.
A slow, dangerous grin spread across my face. My wolf lifted his head, intrigued now.
"She wants a war," I murmured, crumpling the charred paper in my hand. "She'll get one."
Ronan tensed. "Darrian… I have to ask. Is this about territory? Strength? Or something else?"
I looked at him sharply. "I don't justify my instincts. I conquer. I protect my pack. She's standing in the way of that."
"But something about her—"
"Enough."
Silence fell.
"I don't care what blood runs in her veins. I don't care if she pisses dominance or commands the wind. She made herself my enemy. I won't spare her because she's a woman."
Later That Night
In the war room, I stood over the map table, my hands braced on the edges as I studied the Bloodmoon terrain. Dense forests. Thick rivers. Hidden trails.
"She's got home advantage," Ronan said, tapping the Bloodmoon border with a clawed finger. "Those wolves were raised in that terrain. Our scouts will be at a disadvantage."
"She's bought loyalty," I said. "But loyalty can be broken. Who did she ally with?"
"Riverstone. Hollowfang. Broken Pike."
"Cowards and scavengers." I sneered. "Send a separate message to Riverstone's Alpha. Remind him what happened to the last wolf who opposed me."
"I already did," Ronan said grimly. "He hasn't replied."
"Then he dies with her."
Hours Later
I sat on the edge of my bed, unable to sleep. My wolf paced, restless in my head.
Go to her. Something's wrong. Something's missing.
"Shut up," I muttered under my breath.
Why did her name dig so deep under my skin?
Heather.
It rolled around in my skull like a forgotten melody. I didn't remember her. Not clearly. Just flickers. A voice. Blue eyes. Pain I couldn't place.
I didn't have a mate. That was what the Moon Goddess had made clear. Whatever I'd once had, she'd ripped it from me. And good riddance. Mates were weakness. Emotion dulled power. I was sharper now. Stronger.
I would win this war. I had to.
Even if I had to drag that arrogant little she-wolf out of her throne room by the hair.
Even if I had to kill the name Heather with my own hands.
But still…
Still I dreamed of her.
And every time I woke up, my throat was dry, and the taste of ash and roses lingered in my mouth.
The Next Morning
We began preparation.
Three hundred of my best warriors. Fifty scouts. Witches from the Moonborne Coven pledged their magic. Weapons forged. Borders reinforced. Plans drawn in blood and fury.
We march in four days.
By then, I would know how to break her.
Because I was Darrian Blackthorne. Alpha of one of the most powerful packs in existence.
And I didn't lose.
Not to traitors. Not to enemies.
And definitely not to some she-wolf Alpha who thought defiance made her untouchable.