The Twin Alpha s Curse

The forest was too quiet.

Kael Thorne stood at the edge of the ancient stone circle, the moonlight staining his skin in silver and crimson. The scent of blood still clung to the trees-his father's blood. The old Alpha was dead, and the mantle had passed to Kael, whether he was ready or not.

He could still see the scene replaying behind his eyes: the beast that tore through the boundary, the roars of the pack, and his father's body crumpled in the dirt, eyes wide with betrayal. No enemy was found. No intruder caught. Just his father's corpse and the prophecy whispered by the witch before she vanished:

"The next Alpha will rise under the crimson moon... cursed or crowned, as fate decides."

"Alpha," came a voice behind him.

Kael turned slowly. Ronan, his Beta and childhood friend, stood there with his jaw set and eyes wary.

"They're waiting."

Of course they were. The whole damn pack was gathered, watching, judging, wondering if he was strong enough. The Thorne line had ruled for over two hundred years with blood and fang. Now, they wanted proof he deserved the crown.

Kael stepped into the center of the circle. Torches flared. Shadows danced across snarling wolf totems carved in blackwood. The elders stood in a semi-circle, silent. His pack lined the edge of the glade. Over fifty werewolves, every one of them armed and waiting.

He shifted his gaze to the towering pyre in the center, his father's body wrapped in ceremonial cloth, marked with ash and herbs.

With a nod to Ronan, Kael lit the flame.

The fire crackled to life, hungry and wild.

"I swear to protect the blood of this pack," Kael said, voice low but steady. "To lead with strength, and punish with justice. I will not bow, and I will not break."