The indignity was almost as suffocating as the fear. Ryan, the undisputed Alpha of one of the continent's oldest packs, found himself crouched behind a dense row of manicured hedges, dressed in the most generic, anonymous clothing he could find: a cheap, ill-fitting dark hoodie and a standard-issue baseball cap pulled low. He was scanning a high-walled, gated playground in the heart of the city—a place he should have ruled, but instead was forced to trespass upon.
He ignored the six frantic, buzzing messages from his Beta, Damon. They could manage a minor border skirmish. They could not, however, manage the collapse of their corporate assets, or the loss of their most powerful potential heirs. Ryan's focus was surgical: the acquisition of a single, viable DNA sample.
He had mapped Elara's routine through discreet surveillance. The twins were granted precisely thirty minutes in this park, a sterile oasis of expensive, imported playground equipment, before their evening tutors arrived. The area was monitored by a single, massive security guard—a man who radiated cold, professional human competence, not wolf weakness.
Ryan activated a small thermal scanner built into a watch face, confirming Elara was still in the vehicle, likely glued to a video conference, managing her empire from the back seat. This gave him a window of approximately ten minutes.
He focused on the twins. Elias and Leo were running with fierce, contained energy. They didn't play like other children; they practiced, climbing the jungle gym with an almost unnerving speed, leaping from platform to platform. They were currently wearing matching navy-blue scarves that protected them from the chill of the late afternoon air. The scarves were soft wool, likely holding traces of saliva, skin cells, and—most importantly—their concentrated Lycan scent.
The bodyguard, a mountain of muscle named Marcus, stood near the gate, his back momentarily turned as he spoke into his own earpiece.
Now.
Ryan's wolf urged him to shift, to clear the ten-foot wall in a glorious, powerful leap. But the human reality was harsher: a shifting Alpha would trigger silent alarms, alerting Elara and potentially endangering the boys. He had to move as a human rogue—a humiliation that grated on his soul.
He moved low and fast, silent as a whisper against the hedge line. He was over the wall in a blur of human speed, landing silently on the cushioned wood chips. The overpowering scent of his sons, raw and potent, momentarily disoriented him. It was a call to claim, to protect, to dominate. He fought the instinct, channeling his Alpha strength into pure stealth.
Elias, the bolder twin, was focused on scaling the highest point of a spiral slide. He paused at the top, took a deep breath, and let out a sneeze—a sudden, violent expulsion of air. The accompanying scarf came loose from his neck and fluttered down, landing on the base of the slide, a splash of navy blue against the yellow plastic.
It was perfect. Unused, recently worn, and discarded.
Ryan darted toward the slide, his focus absolute. He could feel the pressure of the environment, the subtle shift in the air that signaled Marcus might be turning.
He reached the scarf, snatching it and immediately tucking it into a triple-layered, sterile container he carried in his jacket pocket. The action was swift, practiced, and over in less than two seconds. He smelled nothing but the pine and wolf-blood from the scarf.
As he turned to retreat, a small voice broke the silence.
"Hey."
Ryan froze. Leo, the quieter twin, was standing at the bottom of the monkey bars, staring directly at him. His small face held no fear, only an intense, analytical curiosity. His eyes, the exact shade of Ryan's own amber, tracked his movement.
The Alpha instinct screamed at Ryan to command silence, to compel obedience, but Elara's rules—and the potential loss of access—flashed in his mind. He couldn't use his voice, his authority, or his scent.
He simply stared back, a trapped animal.
Leo tilted his head, a small, knowing expression on his face. "Did you lose something, Mr. Thief?"
Ryan's throat was dry. He managed only a slight shake of his head before Marcus, alerted by the sudden silence, strode toward the area.
"Leo! Elias! Time to go!" Marcus's voice boomed.
Leo gave Ryan a final, unsettlingly wise look, and turned away.
Ryan seized the moment, using the distraction to vault the wall once more, disappearing into the cover of the hedges. He was breathing heavily, his heart hammering—not from the exertion, but from the terrifying realization that his son had seen him and called him out.
He sped through the city to the discrete, expensive lab. He dropped off the sample, paying an astronomical sum for a 'Tier One Rush: Four Hour Analysis.'
The subsequent wait in his sterile hotel room was torture. Ryan paced for four straight hours, ignoring Damon, ignoring the pack. His identity was meaningless. He was only a father, waiting for a verdict that would either confirm his deepest shame or unlock his future.
Finally, at 2:00 AM, the encrypted file landed on his laptop.
Subject: Results - Lycan Sample (Target: Thorne Heirs)
Ryan stared at the screen, every breath held tight in his chest, the entire fate of his pack condensed into the sterile text. He scrolled down past the dense genetic markers, past the complex Lycan-human sequencing, to the final, brutal line:
PATERNITY INDEX: 99.999%
CONCLUSION: The Lycan Alpha sample is the biological progenitor of the Thorne Heir samples. Note: Genetic analysis indicates an unusually high concentration of Alpha markers in the samples, suggesting the Heirs will be of a dominant lineage. The human element appears to have stabilized and amplified the Lycan gene.
The confirmation was a physical jolt. They were real. They were his. They were stronger than any pure-blood pup he had ever encountered.
Ryan slumped back in the chair, a guttural sound torn from his throat—a mix of joy, agony, and possessive rage. He had rejected Elara, and the Moon Goddess had answered by giving him the most powerful heirs in the pack's history, forcing him to grovel to the woman he had destroyed.
He had the evidence now. The war was officially on. He looked at the number on his phone—Elara's private line.
He stood, tearing off the hoodie. He wasn't a thief anymore. He was the Alpha, armed with truth.
"They're mine, Elara," he growled to the empty room. "And the deal is about to change."