Chapter 1: Shadows in the Crown
The morning sun filtered through the tinted windows of Blackridge High, bouncing off polished lockers and a hallway filled with chatter. But for Ethan Storm, the weight of royalty pressed against his chest like a lead vest.
Alpha King or not, he still had to deal with calculus, cafeteria food, and pretending not to hear whispers every time he passed.
"That's him—Ethan Storm."
"You know, the Alpha King's son?"
"I heard he ripped a guy's arm off during training…"
He tuned them out, heading to his locker like it was just another Monday. But it wasn't.
Something was off.
His wolf, the beast inside him—always calm, controlled—growled in the back of his mind. Restless. Tense. Like something was about to snap.
Then his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
He's dead.
His stomach dropped.
He stared at the message, blinking once. Twice. The world around him slowed, voices warping into echoes. Was this a prank?
Another text came instantly after.
Unknown Number:
Your father is gone. You're next.
His chest tightened. No. Not his father.
He sprinted out of the school, ignoring the teacher yelling after him. His phone rang—this time it was Eli, his father's Beta and their family's oldest friend.
Ethan answered. "Eli. What the hell is going on?"
Eli's voice was shaky. "Come home. Now. It's true."
The phone slipped from Ethan's hand, clattering onto the asphalt.
Black cars lined the long stone driveway of the Storm estate. Reporters with cameras stood behind the iron gates, shouting questions. Guards kept them back. It felt like a war zone—only the battle had already happened.
Inside the mansion, pack elders whispered. His mother sat still on the grand staircase, eyes hollow, as if her soul had been ripped from her.
Eli approached, placing a heavy hand on Ethan's shoulder.
"The King was found dead early this morning. No scent trail. No blood. Just... gone."
Ethan's jaw clenched. "That's not possible. No one can get past our guards. He's the strongest Alpha—he—he couldn't just vanish."
"There's more." Eli glanced at the others, then lowered his voice. "He left a message. Just one line."
He handed Ethan a folded paper.
"Beware the mate who bleeds red."
Ethan frowned. "What does that even mean?"
Eli didn't answer.
But Ethan saw the fear in his eyes.
Later that night, when the estate had gone quiet, Ethan stood on the rooftop, wind cutting across his skin. He stared at the moon, trying to feel his father through the pack bond.
Nothing.
Just cold silence.
Then... something moved in the woods.
A flash of pale skin. Glowing red eyes.
He leapt down without thinking, shifting mid-air. His wolf was all instinct and fury, claws tearing into the earth.
But the figure was already gone. Only a faint scent remained—one that didn't belong to any werewolf.
It smelled of blood. Cold. Ancient.
Vampire.
And for the first time in his life, Ethan Storm felt fear crawl up his spine.
Whoever had killed his father had walked right past their defenses. And now, they were watching him.