[Xander’s POV]
The study door clicks shut behind me, and my heart pounds so hard I'm certain it'll wake the entire pack house. Breaking into my father's private study in the dead of night—if I'm caught, he could execute me for betraying my Alpha. Sacred law would be on his side.
But I also know my father. Meticulous. Controlling. He keeps records of everything, including his schemes. Especially his schemes.
I move through the darkness using memory rather than risking a light. The massive desk squats in the center like a throne. Bookshelves line the walls, filled with pack histories and strategy texts. But what I need isn't on display.
Using knowledge from childhood—secret compartments I discovered at eight years old, places Father doesn't know I found—I press the hidden panel behind the false bookshelf. It swings open with a whisper of sound, revealing the safe.
The combination takes three tries, my hands shaking. When it finally opens, I find exactly what I was hoping for and dreading in equal measure.
Journals. Dozens of them, leather-bound and labeled by year. The earliest date is twenty-two years ago.
I pull them out with trembling hands, flipping through pages filled with my father's precise handwriting.
Plans for positioning Daphne. Detailed notes about her mother's arrival at the pack—a pregnant omega seeking sanctuary, alone and desperate. Calculations about the King's search patterns, which territories he'd check first, how to stay hidden.
And then I find it.
A purchase record for heat inducer. Illegal in most territories, banned by sacred law for its use in forcing bonds. The amount listed would be enough to trigger immediate, uncontrollable heat in any she-wolf, regardless of her natural cycle.
My wolf howls inside my chest, fury so volcanic it takes everything I have not to destroy this room, to hunt down my father and—
I force myself to keep reading. To gather evidence, not rage.
Dosage calculations spanning months, testing amounts on captured rogues to determine the perfect level. And finally, dated the morning of the Luna ceremony, written in Father's hand:
"Administered full dose in ceremonial tea. Bond will be complete by nightfall. The Princess is mine."
The words blur. My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the journal. I was right. He didn't just manipulate Daphne. He drugged her. Forced a bond that should never exist. Violated every law we have, every principle we're supposed to uphold.
And he's been planning this for twenty-two years. Since before Daphne was even born.
I gather everything—journals, receipts, the damning note—my mind already calculating how to present this to the King. As I'm carefully replacing items to hide my intrusion, I hear footsteps in the corridor.
Fuck.
The door opens before I can hide. Connor stands in the doorway, and for one tense heartbeat, I think I'll have to fight my brother. Knock him unconscious, maybe. Anything to prevent him from alerting Father.
Instead, Connor closes the door behind him and locks it.
"I know what you're looking for," he says quietly, moving closer. "I can help."
I don't lower my guard. "Why would you help?"
"Because I'm tired of being Father's tool." His voice cracks. "And because when Daphne's wolf surfaced, I felt it. The power, the dominance radiating from her—she's meant to be Queen, not someone's puppet. Not..." He swallows hard. "Not what I tried to make her."
Shame twists his features. Genuine shame, not the performative kind he's used to manipulate.
"I've been gathering my own evidence," Connor continues. "The tea service from that morning. I kept it—never let the omegas clean it. There's still residue in her cup." He pulls a small vial from his pocket. "I scraped samples. It's enough to test."
Connor's jaw clenches. "I've also been listening. Heard conversations between Father and Beta Marcus about 'maintaining control' over the Princess. About how to keep her isolated from court, how to discredit anyone who might help her break free. I can testify."
"Why?" The question bursts out. "Why help now? You've hated her for years—"
"Because Father made me." The admission comes out raw. "Every cruel word, every rejection—he encouraged it all. Praised me when I broke her down, punished me when I showed mercy. I thought..." He stops, struggling. "I thought I was just following pack hierarchy. Being a strong Alpha. But I was just another piece on his board."
The realization clearly guts him. I recognize the feeling.
"We need to move fast," I say. "Compile everything. Enough to break the forced bond and expose him to the King."
We work quickly, Connor pulling hidden files from places even I didn't know existed. Written orders to pack members to reinforce Daphne's "worthlessness."
The full scope of the manipulation is staggering. Systematic. Twenty-two years of calculated cruelty designed to break a Princess into a compliant tool.
We're finishing when I hear it—Father's voice in the hallway, much earlier than expected. He's returning from his meeting with the King.
"Fuck," Connor breathes. "He shouldn’t have—"
"Move." I shove the evidence into a pack bag while Connor replaces the journals in the safe. We barely get everything back in position before Father's footsteps pause outside the study door.
We slip out through the window—second story, but we're wolves. The drop doesn't even wind us. We hit the ground running, the evidence secured.
But as we disappear into the tree line, I know: Father will check his study. Will notice tiny things out of place. He'll know someone was there.
The trap is closing. We can't waste time.
"We go to the King," I say. "Now. Tonight."
Connor nods, his expression grim. "He's staying in the east wing guest quarters."
We run.
The King's guards try to stop us at his door. "His Majesty is preparing for bed. You can request an audience in the—"
"This can't wait." I keep my voice level despite the urgency screaming through me. "We need to speak with him about his daughter."
"The Alpha's sons don't command the King's schedule—"
"Let them in."
The King's voice carries from inside the room. The guards exchange glances but step aside.
King Thaddeus stands by the window, still dressed despite the late hour. His expression is tired, troubled, and completely uninterested in whatever we've come to say. His eyes barely glance at us before dismissing us as irrelevant.
"I don't have time for pack politics between the Alpha's sons," he says flatly. "Whatever grievances you have with your father can be—"
"Your daughter's bond was forced." The words cut through his dismissal like a blade. "Alpha Hector drugged her with illegal heat inducer to create a mate bond that should never exist. We have proof."
The King's entire demeanor shifts. He turns slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that would make weaker wolves drop their gaze.
"What did you say?"
"The mate bond between Daphne and my father is a violation of sacred law." I step forward, pulling out the journals, the receipts, the vial Connor collected. "Hector has been planning this for twenty-two years. Since before Daphne was born."
Connor moves beside me. "We have evidence. Documentation. Physical proof of the drugging."
I spread the journals across the table, opening to the most damning pages. The purchase records. The dosage calculations. That final note: "Administered full dose. Bond will be complete by nightfall."
The King reads in absolute silence. His face goes carefully blank, but I see his hands trembling. See the rage building behind his eyes like a gathering storm.
When he finally looks up, the fury in his expression is terrifying. Ancient. Royal.
"My daughter." His voice is barely controlled. "He drugged my daughter. Forced a bond. Violated every law we have."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The silence that follows feels like the moment before lightning strikes. The King's power radiates through the room, making even Connor take a step back. This is what it means to stand before the Crown. Before true dominance untempered by politics or restraint.
When King Thaddeus speaks again, his voice carries absolute authority. The kind that topples kingdoms and ends bloodlines.
"Escort me to the Alpha."
It's not a request. It's a command. And I recognize the look in his eyes.
Someone is going to die tonight.