Chapter 2: A Throne with Teeth
The Storm Pack mansion was draped in silence. Not the peaceful kind—this silence had weight. It pressed on everyone's shoulders like a warning. Something was wrong, and they all felt it.
Ethan didn't sleep that night.
He stood barefoot on the balcony outside his room, arms crossed, shirtless and stone-faced, watching the treeline where he'd seen it. The glowing red eyes. The vampire.
But there had been no trace since. No scent, no sound. Like a ghost in the night.
Only that one message remained:
"Beware the mate who bleeds red."
He didn't know what it meant. But he knew this much—his life had just become a battlefield.
By morning, the Storm mansion turned into a war council.
Dozens of pack elders and allies from neighboring packs filled the long marble hall. Voices clashed, anger echoed off walls, and all eyes occasionally flicked toward Ethan—the Alpha King's only heir.
He sat at the head of the room, in his father's seat.
It felt wrong.
Too soon.
Too heavy.
"He's too young," one elder growled.
"Seventeen! Still in school. He can't rule us."
"But he's the rightful heir," Eli countered. "The bond passed to him the moment our Alpha died. You all felt it."
"Or someone forced it. Maybe this whole thing was planned."
Silence followed that accusation. Ethan stood up slowly.
His voice was steady. "If anyone here thinks I planned my own father's death… step forward."
No one did.
But the look in their eyes said enough. Doubt had crept in. Fear was turning into suspicion.
And Ethan could feel the wolves around him starting to shift—not physically, but politically.
The throne had teeth.
Later that day, Ethan left the mansion to clear his head. He needed air. Space. A moment to think.
He drove down to the lake—his father's favorite place. A quiet spot shielded by dense pine trees and cool water that smelled of rain.
That's when he felt it again.
The sensation of being watched.
He turned. Nothing. Just woods. But the silence was too perfect. No birds. No bugs. No wind.
Then something moved behind the trees.
Ethan tensed.
"Show yourself," he growled, voice low and dangerous.
No reply.
But then... a whisper. Barely audible, carried on the wind:
"She's coming."
He spun around—still nothing.
Heart racing, claws half-extended, Ethan backed away toward his car, eyes scanning every shadow. Every breath of wind. Every flicker of movement.
He'd never felt so powerless.
Who was coming?
Was it the vampire from the woods?
Or the one from the prophecy?
That night, he met with Eli again in his father's office. The room hadn't changed—thick books, weapons on the wall, a bottle of whiskey still half-finished.
Ethan sat behind the desk, running his fingers along its edge.
"You ever hear of this prophecy before?" he asked. "The one about a mate who bleeds red?"
Eli hesitated.
"Yes," he said quietly. "But only in fragments. It's old. Forbidden, even among the Elders."
"Why?"
"Because it speaks of union between predator and prey. The wolf and the…" Eli looked uneasy. "...vampire."
Ethan froze.
"What are you saying?"
"That your mate… may not be a wolf."
A chill slid down Ethan's spine.
"That's not possible," he muttered. "That's not allowed."
Eli nodded slowly. "Exactly."