The Cole family had once been one of the most esteemed families under the former Alpha King, King Darius. Now they were the gossip of the entire city. People called them "fallen from grace to grass."
No one knew why the current Alpha, Alpha Denton, hated the family enough to demote Alpha Cole to Gamma.
Rossana, the Luna of the family, felt the weight of every stare when she ran errands—errands she now had to do herself since becoming a common chef in the palace.
Her beautiful daughters, Ava and Hazel, weren't exempted from the scorn.
Especially Ava, who had become a partial pariah because she still hadn't shifted.
"Ava, wake up." Rossana patted her daughter's shoulder, trying to rouse her from sleep.
They had to wake extra early today—the king's twin sons were returning from a war that had lasted almost a decade.
"Mom, please. Just a few more minutes," Hazel mumbled, while Ava merely stirred and rolled to her side despite her mother's repeated pats.
"We don't have time. The celebration starts in four hours," Rossana said, covering her mouth to hide a yawn.
"What's going on here?" Their father's thunderous voice roused both girls instantly. They sat up, rubbing their eyes.
"Good morning, sir," they said in unison.
"Good morning." Gamma Cole's deep voice filled the room. "I'm sure you know what today is, and I want to warn you both to stay away from situations where you can be seen. The arena is going to be filled with lecherous men looking for a chance to make you their slave. Don't linger too long—serve them and exit. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir," They chorused. Hazel's lip tilting with a grin.
After the girls left, Gamma Cole turned to his wife, his expression grave. "Keep an eye on Hazel today."
Rossana frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I know our daughter, Rossana. She's had her eyes on Prince Varder since she was a girl, and now that he's back after six years..." He shook his head.
"I don't trust her not to do something foolish. The last thing we need is more trouble with the royal family."
Rossana's face paled. "I'll watch her. I promise."
"Good. Now let's get to work. We can't afford any mistakes today."
The palace grounds buzzed with activity as servants rushed to prepare for the celebration. Banners in the royal colors hung from every pillar, and the scent of roasted meat and honey mead filled the air.
The arena had been transformed into a grand feast hall, with long tables arranged in careful hierarchy—the royal family at the center, visiting pack leaders and high-ranking members close by, and everyone else filling in the gaps.
Ava moved through the crowd with a tray of goblets, keeping her head down as her father had instructed. Her hands trembled slightly as she served, hyperaware of every glance thrown her way. Being a wolf who hadn't shifted made her a target—a weakness in a world that valued strength above all else.
She could hear the whispers as she passed.
"That's the Cole girl. The one who can't shift."
"Pathetic. What kind of wolf..."
Ava gritted her teeth and kept moving.
The arena erupted in thunderous cheers as the twin princes entered. Prince Varder, the Alpha King's eldest son and heir to the throne, was an imposing figure, he was known as "The Wizard of crow " battle-worn and radiating raw power after six years of war. His dark hair was tied back, his scarred jaw set in a permanent scowl. Beside him, his twin brother Prince Ryder carried himself with equal confidence, though his eyes held a sharper, more calculating gleam.
The crowd chanted their names, celebrating the victorious return of the princes who had led their forces to triumph.
Ava tried to make herself invisible as she navigated between tables, refilling drinks and clearing plates. She caught a glimpse of Hazel across the arena, deliberately positioning herself near the royal table, her movements calculated and seductive. Their mother hovered nearby, watching with poorly concealed anxiety.
Ava was so focused on avoiding attention that she didn't notice the hand until it was too late.
A sharp smack landed on her backside.
Ava gasped and spun around, her tray clattering to the ground. Goblets rolled across the stone floor, wine pooling like blood.
Alpha Cyrus of the Mystic Furs leaned back in his chair, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. He was a visiting pack leader, massive and intimidating, with silver streaks running through his dark hair. "Clumsy little thing, aren't you?"
Ava's face burned with humiliation. She dropped into a shaky bow, her voice barely a whisper. "F-forgive me, Alpha."
"Oh, I'll forgive you," Alpha Cyrus said, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "In fact, I think I'll take you as my slave. You'd look good serving in the Mystic Furs' territory." The entire arena fell silent.
Laughter rippled through his table.
Ava's blood turned cold. Her knees nearly gave out beneath her. A slave to another pack, she'd never see her family again.
"She's not available."
The voice cut through the arena like a blade.
Prince Varder stood from the royal table, his massive frame casting a shadow over the gathered crowd. The temperature in the arena seemed to drop. Six years of war had changed him—he was harder, colder, more dangerous than the young prince who'd left.
Alpha Cyrus raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised but amused. "Not available? She's a Gamma's daughter from a disgraced family. She's fair game, Your Highness."
"She's in my pack," Varder said, his voice low and dangerous. "Which means I have first claim."
Cyrus's smirk faltered. "You can't be serious. You just returned from six years of war and this is what you choose to claim?"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
The two Alphas stared each other down, the tension so thick it was suffocating. Everyone in the arena held their breath. Even Alpha King Denton leaned forward from his throne, watching his son with an unreadable expression.
Finally, Cyrus laughed—a sharp, bitter sound. "Fine. Have the rut, Prince."
Varder didn't acknowledge him. Instead, he turned his gaze to Ava, and she felt the full weight of his attention like a physical force.
He walked toward her, each step deliberate and measured. The crowd parted for him automatically. Ava caught sight of Prince Darius watching from the royal table, his expression inscrutable.
Ava couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.
When Varder reached her, he placed his boot on her shoulder and pushed down—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to force her to her knees.
Gasps echoed through the arena.
"I, Prince Varder, heir to the throne and son of Alpha King Denton, claim this woman under pack law," he announced, his voice carrying across the stunned silence. "Anyone who challenge my claim will answer to me."
No one said a word.
Ava knelt there, trembling, her mind racing. Claimed. The word echoed in her head like a death sentence. In their pack, Gammas and lower ranks could be claimed by any Alpha—taken as slaves, servants, or worse. And because Varder was the Alpha King's heir, no one could challenge him.
Not even her father.
She looked up at Varder, her vision blurring with unshed tears. His face was different from what she remembered—harder, with new scars cutting across his features. His expression was unreadable—cold, detached, as if he'd just claimed a piece of property and nothing more. This wasn't the prince who'd left six years ago. War had transformed him into something else entirely.
Around them, shocked whispers began to rise.
"Did he just claim a rut?"
"The Cole girl? After everything?"
"Why would the heir claim her?"
"He's been gone six years and this is his first act?"
Ava's mother stood frozen near the kitchens, her hand over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Her father's face had gone ashen, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles were white—trapped between rage and powerlessness.
And Hazel—Hazel stared at her sister with something that looked dangerously close to betrayal and fury, all her carefully laid plans crumbling in an instant.
Even Prince Ryder had risen from his seat, watching his twin brother with a surprised expression.
Varder removed his boot from Ava's shoulder and looked down at her with those cold, unreadable eyes.
"Get up," he commanded. "You belong to me now."