Damian’s POV

“Control it, Damian. Or I’ll find an heir who can.”

Father’s words slammed heavier than the weights I’d just dropped. His voice carried that deadly calm that only Alphas mastered—the kind that cut deeper than a shout ever could. Silence full of promises, all of them brutal.

My chest heaved, muscles burning, knuckles raw and bleeding from pounding the training bag until it split at the seams. Sweat dripped into my hazel eyes, but I didn’t stop staring at him. Challenge burned on my tongue, waiting to uncoil.

Except I wasn’t stupid. Not even I was dumb enough to challenge the reigning Alpha when the entire pack already whispered that I was unfit.

“Say something,” he demanded.

My jaw tightened hard enough to crack. “There’s nothing to say.”

Father’s gaze flickered to my hands—ripped skin, fresh wounds, the mess I always carried when I couldn’t cage the beast inside. His lip curled, but not from pity. From disgust.

“You’re weak like this. Unfocused. Letting your wolf control you instead of the other way around.” His tone dropped lower. “Tell me, Damian—was it the Omega that made you lose your head yesterday?”

Heat flared up my neck. I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

The smirk that touched his face told me everything. He knew.

And if he knew, then so did everyone else.

Training drills resumed, but my movements were sloppy, my wolf snapping at me inside. Every strike I threw, every lunge, I saw Alexander’s face—smirking, daring me, whispering brother like a stain I couldn’t scrub out.

But worse?

I saw Selene.

Her wide, frantic eyes in the cafeteria, her trembling hands clutching the tray. The blood sliding from her nose. The way she looked at me before everything went to hell—pleading silently for answers I’d never give.

It drove me insane.

“You’re slipping,” Coach barked, blowing the whistle again. Rage boiled up inside. I lunged harder, faster, but my wolf surged directly past me, uncontrolled. My eyes burned, claws ripped mid-shift, jaw snapping close to bone.

The other players stumbled back, fear lacing their scents sharp through the air.

“Damian! Control yourself!”

But I couldn’t. Not today.

Selene’s tear-streaked face branded my mind. The scent of her wolf—fragile, maddening. The flicker in her eyes when she realized what we both knew, what I’d denied to her face: Mate.

My vision tunneled red.

Before I knew it, Lucas—my closest friend—was flat on the court, my claw pressed into his throat. His eyes wide, begging. His scent thick with panic.

Enough. My wolf’s voice thundered inside. You can’t keep doing this. She’s ours. Claim her—or break entirely.

With a growl, I jerked back, chest heaving, clutching my skull as if I could physically rip the voice out.

But the real disaster wasn’t inside me.

The real disaster was at the edge of the court.

Alexander.

Watching. Arms casually crossed as if the show was entertaining. His lips curved into yet another mocking smile.

“Looks like you’re losing your touch, brother,” he drawled lazily, his voice dripping with taunt. “How does it feel? The throne slipping through your hands?”

Hours later, when night fell, I stormed into my father’s office without knocking. The old Alpha looked up slowly, irritation flashing before he masked it.

“You knew,” I said hoarsely.

He raised a brow. “About Alexander?”

“About the bastard you bred and abandoned like a secret. You let him live out there—for years. And now you bring him into the heart of Crescent Vale?”

His expression sharpened like steel. “I didn’t bring him here, Damian. He brought himself. And if you had any sense, you’d know that blood always calls to blood.”

My nails bit into my palms until they bled. “He’s not me. He’s nothing. I’ll crush him.”

But Father’s calm was worse than any rage. He leaned back in his chair, one corner of his mouth tilting.

“Careful, son. You speak as if it’s him you fear. But I can smell it—you’re not unraveling because of Alexander.” His gaze pierced straight through me. “You’re unraveling because of her.”

Selene.

The name went unspoken, but it thundered louder than anything in the room.

That night, I tried training until my body collapsed, but no pain dulled the truth screaming inside me. No amount of self-destruction erased the sound of her voice or the bond gnawing deeper each day.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her lips tremble when I told her she was worthless. Every time my wolf stirred, all it wanted was her.

I slammed my fists into the broken bag again, blood splattering down my wrist. My wolf snarled. You can’t run from it forever.

“I said leave me the fuck alone!” I roared, my voice echoing into the empty training hall.

But the silence didn’t stay silent.

Because when I turned, the last scent I expected tightened around my lungs like a chain.

Selene.

Standing in the doorway, blue eyes wide, white hair spilling down her shoulders like moonlight itself poured her into existence.

She whispered one word. Fragile. Trembling.

“Why?”

Damian freezes as Selene steps into the training hall—her eyes shimmering with both fear and defiance. The weight of her question—why did you do it if you knew we were mates?—hangs between them, demanding the answer he’s refused to give.