Chapter 146

Owen

The Alpha King’s voice hit like a hammer—loud, sharp, and impossible to dodge.

“Again.”

I clenched my jaw, wiped the blood from my lip with the back of my hand, and stepped forward. My legs ached, muscles burning from the last round of combat drills. My wolf howled inside me, not out of pain—but pride. He liked the challenge. Liked being pushed, even if he hadn’t shown himself yet. I wasn’t so sure I did.

“I said again, boy. Or are you hoping someone else will lead your people when the time comes?”

Behind him, Dad—Alexander—stood with his arms crossed, saying nothing. His expression was unreadable, but I could feel the difference in his gaze. Where the Alpha King’s presence was a storm barreling down the mountain, my father’s was steadier. Calmer. Still a mountain, just… the kind you could sit beside without being flattened.

I wasn’t used to it, considering he used to have such a fiery temper. Now he seemed… a new.

I launched forward, trying not to think—just move. Just react.

The king knocked me on my back with one clean strike.

Humiliation burned hotter than pain. I lay there, panting against the dirt, wishing I could shift and tear something apart just to prove I wasn’t weak.

“Enough,” Alexander said finally, stepping between us. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. Always did. “He’s had enough for today.”

The Alpha King didn’t argue. That was the kind of weight my father carried. Not because he was the loudest in the room—but because he was the one people listened to when it mattered. Even the King.

I pushed myself to my feet, chest heaving. “I’m fine,” I muttered.

“You’re bleeding,” Dad said.

“Still fine.”

He gave me that look. The one that said he was deciding whether to scold me or let me feel the full consequences of my pride. Then, finally, he nodded toward the woods. “Walk with me.”

I followed him without a word, ignoring the ache in my shoulders and the sting in my ribs. The sun was sinking low, burning orange through the trees, and the scent of pine and earth was thick in the air. We didn’t speak at first. We never rushed into conversations. That was another thing I’d learned from him—silence can say more than words if you let it.

After a while, he said quietly, “He’s hard on you because he sees the fire. But fire without control burns everything.”

I kicked at a rock on the path. “Yeah, well, maybe I’m tired of being everyone’s future. Abigail wouldn’t have failed that last test.”

He stopped, turning to face me. “You think I wasn’t tired when I trained? That I didn’t fail often?”

I blinked. “You’re not tired now.”

“No. But I was. More times than I’ll ever admit in front of the pack. And sometimes…” He paused. “Sometimes I still wonder if I made the right choices. Like if I was the right pick for the job.”

I wasn’t used to him talking like this. Vulnerable. Open.

“I’m not you,” I said.

“I know.”

“And I’m not him.” I jerked my chin back toward the Alpha King at the clearing.

“I know that too.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m supposed to become both of you at once?” My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated it. Hated how heavy everything felt. The expectations. The responsibility. The legacy that wasn’t even mine yet, but still pressed down like it already owned me. “I’m just… the Moon Goddess’s mess up. An abaonimation that somehow worked out thanks to you being my Dad. I’m not confident like Abigail, I… hesitate.”

Dad looked at me for a long time. “You are supposed to become something greater. Not a copy of me. Not Abigail. And not a soldier for him. You’re supposed to be you, which is why you were chosen. And if that means protecting your sister before the pack… if it means loving your family more than politics, hesitating before action… then maybe that’s not the weakness you think it is.”

He stepped closer, resting a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe that’s the future we actually need.”

I looked at him, and for once, I didn’t see the ‘perfect, rough Alpha,’ everyone else sees. I saw the man behind it. The tired eyes. The quiet strength. The one who’d carried all of this long before I knew what it meant.

I straightened my spine. “I’ll do it. I’ll protect the pack—no matter what. But I won’t abandon my family to do it. I won’t let you down, Dad.”

A flicker of pride crossed his face. “Good. Together, we’ll figure out how to balance it all, you won’t do it alone like I had I’m here for ya, kid.”

I nodded, and the air felt a little lighter. Not because the burden was gone.

“Besides,” Dad added, that rare smile tugging at his mouth, “you’re stubborn. Like your mom. That’ll help more than you know.”

I smirked. “She’s gonna love hearing you said that.”

“Oh, I’m sure she will.”

We walked back toward the training grounds in comfortable silence. And for the first time, I didn’t feel like I was walking in someone else’s footsteps.

I was making my own.

Abigail

The kettle whistled just as I dropped the jar of crushed thyme. It shattered against the stone counter, spraying green dust across the floor like it had been waiting to explode.

“Great,” I muttered, slamming the cabinet shut a little too hard. “Just… great.”

The kitchen was warm, filled with the scent of simmering herbs and old wooden cabinets that always creaked no matter how gently you closed them. Sunlight pooled through the windows in lazy golden sheets, dancing on the tiled floor. It was peaceful.

And I hated it.

“Abigail?” Mom’s voice drifted in from the hallway before her footsteps followed. She walked in with her usual grace—confident, quiet power wrapped in a soft linen dress, hair braided back with a few stubborn curls escaping near her temples, that Alpha’s dagger strapped to her side like a trophy. “Is everything alright?”

I didn’t answer at first. Just stared down at the green mess at my feet, hands clenched on the edge of the counter. I was afraid if I looked up, I’d say something I couldn’t pull back.

“Abigail,” she said again, more gently this time. “Talk to me.”

I finally looked up. “Why him?”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

I met her eyes, refusing to back down. “Why did he get chosen? For Alpha training. For leadership. For everything. And I’m here… making tea and cleaning the kitchen.”

Her expression didn’t shift much—but something in the air did. “Well… you made a mess in the kitchen, didn’t clean it.”

My expression soured and a soft chuckle left her lips. “Ah, I see,” she said quietly.

“No, you don’t.” I felt the heat rising in my chest now, sharp and unrelenting. “I was faster than Owen. Stronger. Better at strategy. I trained harder. I wanted it more. I ought the Alpha to the fight, I always pushed him to act… and now…”

She folded her arms, not angry, just waiting.

“And now he’s out there becoming Alpha while I’m stuck in the kitchen,” I finished bitterly, gesturing to the herbs and the cracked jar on the floor. “What am I even doing? Cleaning like some glorified maid? Learning medicine from a doctor who no longer studies it. You’ve found you’re place. What about me?”

Mom’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Is that what you think this is?”

I faltered. “It feels like it.”

Her voice sharpened, not unkind, but firm. “If that’s what you’ve reduced being a woman to—medicine and cleaning—then you’ve missed the point entirely, Abigail.”

I blinked, stung by the bluntness. “That’s not—”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she continued. “You are strong. You’re fierce, and brave, and brilliant. And that’s exactly why you weren’t chosen.”

I stared at her, stunned. “What?”

“You were spared by the Moon Goddess,” she said gently. “You died, Abigail. And she gave you back to us. To me. But that gift came with a price—a purpose. You’re not just a warrior now. You’re a priestess of the Moon.”

I swallowed hard. “So… what, I don’t get a choice?”

“You do,” she said, stepping closer. “But you don’t get his path. Your road is different, not lesser. You carry something bigger now—something sacred. You’re a vessel of the divine, and if you try to live like nothing changed, you’ll burn out. You’ll lose what she gave you.”

I looked away, blinking fast. “I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t want to be chosen.”

She reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear like she used to when I was little. “None of us did. I never asked to be an Alpha, but times change, sometime’s the world picks for us. It’s an honnor, but never always welcomed. I never asked to fall in love with your father, or lead a battle, or bury our dead. But I became who I needed to be. And you will too.”

Tears pricked the corners of my eyes, but I held them back.

She cupped my cheek, voice softening. “Being a woman is not weakness. Don’t ever believe that. We nurture everything. We grow it. Heal it. Shape it. A battlefield, a bond, a broken heart—we don’t just fight, Abigail. We transform. And everything we touch is better because of it.”

I let out a shaky breath, the fight draining out of me all at once. “I just… I wanted to make you proud.”

“You already do,” she whispered.

And just like that, I was crying. Not loud, ugly sobs—just silent, messy tears sliding down my cheeks while she pulled me into her arms and held me tight. Her warmth was steady, her hand running through my hair. I didn’t feel like a girl caught between destinies—I just felt like her daughter.

When I pulled back, she kissed my forehead. “You’re not lesser than your brother, Abigail. You’re just becoming something the world hasn’t seen yet. And we need you safe while we fiure out what that is.”

I nodded, wiping my eyes with the sleeve of my shirt. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime,” she said with a smile. “Now… want to help me pick up the thyme you exploded all over my kitchen?”

I laughed through the tears. “I thought that could be part of the transformation.”

She snorted. “Nice try.”