DRAVEN'S POV.
The morning began too quiet. That kind of silence that pressed against your chest like a warning.
I stood by the window of my chamber, watching the pale dawn light spill across the courtyard below. A light fog curled between the towers, cloaking the world in shades of silver and ash. I should have found it peaceful. Instead, it only reminded me of the storm brewing inside these walls.
She was still here. The human.
I'd told Zayn last night that she needed to be sent back, far away from me, far away from this cursed place. Yet I hadn't given the order. Something in me refused to. Something I couldn't name…or maybe I was afraid to name it.
The door creaked.
"My king," Zayn said, stepping in with his usual grave expression. "Your mother requests an audience."
I didn't have to ask why. The tightness in his voice said everything. She already found out.
"Send her in," I said.
He hesitated, as if reconsidering, then bowed and slipped out. Moments later, the air in the room shifted, and became colder, heavier, threaded with authority far older than mine.
My mother entered like a shadow gliding through firelight. Queen Lysandra—ruler before me, Gamma of Ghost moon before she abdicated, and still the most dangerous being to walk these halls. Her silver hair was bound tightly at her crown, her posture regal, every inch of her radiating power and calculation.
"Mother," I greeted, my tone formal.
Her gaze roamed across the chamber, sharp as a blade. "Is it true?"
I didn't answer. She didn't need me to.
"I was told," she continued, her voice cool and composed, "that a human has entered this palace. That she was seen in the council hall."
I clenched my jaw. So the lords had already opened their mouths. "Rumors travel fast."
"This is no rumor," she snapped. "Do not insult me, Draven."
I turned away, staring outside the window again. "She's harmless."
"Harmless?" The word cracked through the room. "Do you hear yourself? You allowed a human, a mortal, frail, insignificant creature, into our sacred home. Do you realize what that means? The council is furious. The packs are whispering. If word spreads beyond these walls—"
"I'll handle it," I cut in.
"You should have handled it already."
Her tone sharpened like the edge of a knife. "You are not some fledgling Alpha. You are the Alpha King of Ghost moon. You carry the blood of the First. Yet lately, I see more hesitation than strength in you. What's become of the son I raised?"
The insult landed cleanly, meant to wound, and it did.
"I'm not hesitating," I said, my voice low. "I'm thinking. Something about her isn't right. I can feel it."
"Of course it isn't right. She's human," my mother hissed. "She doesn't belong here. Humans don't belong in our realm, Draven. They bring nothing but ruin."
She stepped closer, eyes gleaming with that familiar mix of fury and disappointment. "Tell me, what have you discovered? Why is she still alive?"
My throat tightened. I could still see Selin's face from the night before…pale, frightened, but daring all the same.
"She's just…different," I said carefully.
"Different," she repeated, tasting the word as though it were poison. "That's your justification for keeping her breathing?"
I turned, meeting her eyes. "You don't understand. I—"
"I understand perfectly," she cut me off. "You're letting sentiment cloud your judgment. And that, my son, is the first sign of weakness."
Something inside me snapped. "You think I'm weak?"
Her gaze didn't waver. "I think you're distracted. You've forgotten what it means to rule. Mercy is a luxury we cannot afford. Not now, not when the border packs are already questioning your control."
"Those packs are restless, not rebellious," I said sharply. "And if you've come to talk politics, save it for the council chamber."
Her lips curved, not into a smile, but something colder. "You think this is about politics?"
"Isn't it always?" I asked.
For a moment, the air between us was thick with old resentment, the kind that had never really died, only quieted over time.
Then she exhaled softly, almost as if pitying me. "You've grown soft, Draven. Ever since the curse, you've been a shadow of what you were meant to be. Maybe this human girl is proof of that."
My jaw tightened. The mention of the curse was a deliberate strike.
"I'll decide what to do with her," I said quietly, finality in my tone.
My mother studied me for a long moment. "You already decided," she said at last. "You kept her alive."
I didn't respond.
She circled me slowly, like a wolf assessing prey. "Tell me something, my son. What is she to you? A curiosity? A pity project? Or something else?"
"Enough," I growled.
Her expression hardened. "Then prove me wrong. Do your duty. End this foolishness before it spreads."
I looked at her then, not as a son, but as a king. "She's under my command. I'll handle her."
"You won't," she said simply. "I will."
That was when I realized she hadn't come for a conversation. She'd come for permission she had no intention of asking for.
"What are you planning?" I asked, though I already knew.
Her eyes gleamed with cold purpose. "The council is already calling for her execution. And they are right to do so. I'll see it done by nightfall."
"No."
The word came out like thunder as it echoed off the stone walls.
My mother raised a brow. "You would defy me over a human?"
"I would defy anyone who tries to touch what's mine," I said.
Her smile was faint, but dangerous. "So you are protecting her."
I didn't answer.
She took a step toward the door. "You forget yourself, Draven. I ruled long before you were born. Don't make the mistake of believing you can challenge me and win."
My voice was low, but it cut through the air like a blade. "Try me."
She paused at the threshold, her back still to me. "Watch me," she said softly, and walked out.
The door had barely closed when I felt it…rage.
Hot, searing rage. It rolled through me like fire, a pulse that burned straight through my veins. For years I'd trained myself to control it, to keep every emotion buried under layers of cold restraint. But this…this was different.
My mother was going to kill her. The thought slammed into me with a brutal force. My mother…my own blood, was going to harm that girl. And I didn't even know why it mattered so damn much, only that it did.
I moved before I realized it. The chair scraped back hard against the floor as I stood, the sound was sharp enough to split the silence. Zayn, who'd been waiting just outside the chamber, stepped in immediately.
"My king?"
"Where is she?" I demanded, my voice rougher than I intended.
Zayn blinked. "The Queen? She's heading toward the west wing. The girl's quarters—"
I was already moving.
"Draven!" he called after me, but his voice faded under the sound of my boots striking the floor.
The corridors blurred around me. Torches guttered as I passed, flames bending toward me, drawn to the heat I couldn't contain. My hands ached, the curse humming beneath my skin like lightning waiting to strike. I should've stopped, maybe should've taken a breath, forced myself to think. But reason had no place in this fury.
"Only I decide what happens to her," I muttered under my breath. The words came out low, and husky. "No one else."
The west wing came into view, and with it, the familiar echo of my mother's voice…cool, composed, and utterly certain of her power. She was already halfway down the corridor when I caught sight of her, her silver gown gliding over the floor like mist. Two royal guards followed behind her, their heads bowed, unaware of the storm about to hit them.
"Mother!"
I called out, but didn't stop.
I quickened my pace. The air around me seemed to tighten as temperature dropped until frost began to edge along the walls.
"Mother," I said again, louder this time.
She halted. Slowly, she turned to face me, that same infuriating calmness in her eyes. "I told you to stay out of this, Draven."
"Only I decide what happens to her," I said again, my tone colder now.
She arched a brow. "You forget your place."
I took a step forward. "No. I remember exactly who I am."
For the first time, her expression shifted, just slightly, but enough. The temperature plummeted further. Even the guards stiffened, their instincts warning them to move, to get away from whatever was about to happen.
"You dare raise your voice to me?" she asked, in that soft and dangerous tone.
"I dare when you overstep."
She tilted her head, the faint glimmer of her crown catching the torchlight.
"Overstep?" Her tone was velvet, smooth and sharp enough to draw blood. "I protect this kingdom while you let weakness infect it. That human—"
"She has a name," I cut in, my voice a growl that didn't sound human anymore.
Her eyes narrowed. "Names are for people who matter," she said softly. "And she doesn't."
Something inside me fractured. The sound was almost physical, like a crack deep within my chest that let every buried emotion pour free. Rage roared through me, almost suffocating. The hall faded, shadows bending toward me like they sensed what was coming. My control…years of discipline, of silence, of restraint, splintered under the weight of her words.
Before I realized it, I was moving. One step. Two.
The air trembled. Torches flared violently, as I crossed the distance between us in a heartbeat.
My mother didn't move. She stood there, elegant. The Queen of Wolves, looking at me with that same calmness that had haunted my childhood.
"You forget who you speak to," she whispered, her power filling the air.
I didn't care. The fury burned hotter. Every memory of her cold orders, every command that had turned me into a weapon instead of a son, it all came back in one shattering wave.
"Only I decide what happens to her," I said.
Her lips curved faintly. "Then decide quickly, before I do."
That was the last thing she said before I snapped.
My hand shot forward, closing the space between us before reason could stop me. The world slowed.
I could feel it—the curse, alive under my skin, clawing its way out, desperate to be unleashed.
I reached for her, not caring about the danger, not caring what would happen.
Let the curse take me. Let it burn everything if it must. Because in that moment, I didn't care who she was. I didn't care that she was my mother. All I knew was…I would stop her.
Even if it killed us both.