Chapter 6 A Heart Not Meant for Love

Dane’s POV

I sat in my study, tucked away in the quietest corner of the palace, a room no one bothered to enter unless they had a death wish. The shelves were stacked with old books that smelled of dust and forgotten stories, the air thick with the kind of silence I craved. It was my third time reading Pride and Prejudice, but that never stopped me. It was my comfort book, a familiar escape from the chaos that constantly clawed at the kingdom’s walls and at my own chest.

I traced my finger along the edge of a page, ready to flip to the next chapter, when the door slammed open so violently the hinges rattled like bones.

I didn’t flinch. I only lifted my head, already knowing who had the audacity to storm into my sanctuary uninvited.

The Alpha King, my father, stood at the doorway like a storm that had forced its way into the room. His presence alone darkened the study, swallowing whatever peace I’d managed to build for myself. His chest rose and fell with the sharpness of barely controlled rage. He didn’t need to speak; I could see it in the way his jaw clenched, in the red swelling under his eyes.

Not angry.

Raging.

“What’s wrong with you, Dane?” He snapped, stepping fully into the room as if the shadows bent out of his way. “The whole kingdom is going through something this serious, and all you can do is sit here reading a book?”

His eyes darted to the worn paperback in my hands, glaring at it as if the book had personally offended him by existing.

I closed it gently, marking my page with deliberate slowness. “The kingdom is going through what, exactly?” I asked, my voice flat, calm, and distant. The same tone I always used when speaking to him. The tone that annoyed him the most.

He hated that I didn’t fear him.

Or maybe he hated that I didn’t care enough to try.

His breathing steadied just a little, but the anger still vibrated under his words. “The healer just left.”

I raised a brow, my expression silently forming the question: And?

His eyes flickered with irritation before the truth left his lips. “My ailment is getting worse.”

I stared at him, unblinking. “They say it’s time you meet your ancestors?” The question left me sounding almost bored, like we were discussing the arrangements for a festival and not his potential death.

His face twisted with hurt, disappointment, and frustration. A blend he’d perfected over the years of dealing with me. He gave me that familiar look, the one meant to remind me I was failing him.

I didn’t care.

“It means,” he continued with strained patience, “that if the council and the elders notice what is happening to me, they will demand you take the throne. But your wolf has been faint lately, and you don’t have a mate. You know what that means.”

I turned my back to him to hide the sudden tightness in my chest. How did he know about my wolf? I had been careful. I had pushed, suppressed, and hidden the growing emptiness… but I hadn’t succeeded.

My wolf was leaving me. Slowly. Painfully. It was like watching a candle die out from the inside.

The thought hollowed me, but I refused to let him see it.

He stepped closer. I could feel the weight of his gaze pressing into my back.

“I know you, Dane,” he said, his voice softer now. “Don’t forget you might hate me all you want, but I’m still your father. I see you even when you think I don’t.”

“A whole ceremony was organized for you, Dane. The task was simple… choose one. Just one.” He tried to hide the frustration in his voice, but it bled through every word. “Instead, you shoved all of them aside and were found outside… talking to a trespasser.”

His words pulled the memory forward for the trespasser. I couldn’t deny the similarities she had to the first girl I met in the forest. The same spirit, the same pull I hated to admit I felt. Still, they were probably different people.

I remembered the faint stir of my wolf when she was being dragged away, a brief spark I had dismissed as coincidence. My wolf came and went these days, unpredictable, fading.

I looked at him, saying nothing. There was nothing worth saying.

He placed a heavy hand on my shoulder.

It lingered there for only a second before I yanked myself away, the disgust in my movement sharper than words.

“I need some breathing space,” I said, stepping out of his reach. My voice was low and controlled, but my heartbeat hammered a little too fast. “I want you to leave.”

He inhaled deeply, a sound filled with years of regret and unspoken things he would never fix. He understood; he always did, even if he pretended he didn’t.

So he left.

The door clicked shut behind him, sealing me back into the silence I wanted so desperately… yet despised.

I stood there for a long moment after he left, my hands shaking slightly. I told myself it was from annoyance, but I knew better.

My father had caused me more pain than any enemy ever could. I had learned to harden myself against him, to build a shield made of coldness and distance.

But today, his words cut deeper than usual.

If the council discovered his condition, they would force me onto the throne. A title I never wanted. A future I refused to claim.

A throne built from my father’s legacy and my mother’s death.

A crown that demanded obedience, tradition, and sacrifice.

A crown that required a mate.

The thought made something bitter rise in my throat.

I would never sit on that throne, not for him, not for the council, not for anyone.

And I would never be mated to any she-wolf they shoved at me. The idea of bonding with someone out of duty… of pretending to feel something my heart had no space for… it made my skin crawl.

Love was a luxury for people who didn’t know better. It was a trap disguised as warmth. A weakness.

I had watched love destroy my mother.

I had watched the absence of it destroy me.

“I will never participate in that useless activity called love.”