Prologue
From the Journal of Lucian Langdon, Alpha of the Claybourne pack.
They say my parents were murdered in the streets of Blackrock city by a gang of ruffians. I have no memory of it, yet it has always seemed to me that I should.
After all, I was supposedly there, but only if I truly am who the world recognizes me to be.
The Alpha of Claybourne.
It is not a pleasant thing to always doubt one’s identity. I often study the portrait of my father hanging above the massive fireplace in the grand library of my city residence and catalogue the similarities in our appearance.
The hair… the color of melted dark chocolate.
The eyes… the shade of the Moon on the coldest winter night.
The nose… mine seems to have been almost an exact copy of his. Although that similarity might be merely wishful thinking on my part. It’s difficult to tell if our noses are truly the same, as mine was severely broken at an early age, the result of an encounter that left me nearly dead.
I have always attributed my escape from death’s clutches to Jack Moonshadow, who offered himself up as a target for the abuse being delivered to me. Things went much worse for him. Not that we ever speak of it.
When you grow up on the streets of Blackrock City you learn about a great many things of which people never speak.
It was my eyes that convinced the old gent who called himself my grandfather that I was indeed his grandson.
“You have got the Claybourne eyes,” he had said with conviction.
And I readily admit that looking into his was very much like looking into a mirror at my own, but still it seemed a rather trite thing upon which to base such a grand decision.
I was fourteen at the time. Awaiting trial for committing murder. I must confess it was a rather fortuitous moment to be declared a future Alpha of a high pack, as the judicial system was not opposed to hanging young rogues who were considered troublesome.
I had developed quite a reputation in that regard. Considering the circumstances of my arrest, I have no doubt I was traveling a swift path straight to the last prison and then the gallows.
Having a fondness for breathing, I was determined to do whatever was necessary to escape the hangman’s silver noose.
Because I was brought up under the supervision of Feagan, the pups-king who managed our rather notorious den of child thieves, I was adept at deceiving people, at pretending to remember things of which I truly had no memory.
During a rather intensive inquisition, observed by inspectors of The Alpha agency, I was quite the showman, and the old Alpha not only declared me to be his grandson, but appealed to the Lycan queen to take the unfortunate circumstances of my life into consideration and to show extreme leniency.
After all, I had witnessed my parents’ murder, been stolen and sold into near s*****y. Certainly it was understandable that I had engaged in a bit of misbehavior. If returned to his keeping, he vowed to set me back on the righteous path to being a proper future Alpha. His request was granted.
And I found myself traveling a far different… and more difficult… road than I had expected, always looking for the familiar, the evidence that I truly belonged where I now resided. By the time I grew to manhood, by all appearances, I was an Alpha.
But beneath the surface… I remained a rogue at heart.
