Fated to the scarred Alpha

The true Alpha

*Stephan*

"I believe we've successfully captured their attention," Raphael states, exuding the self-assurance of a man who not only commands men but also the sea.

Despite all he has endured, it's evident that he hasn't lost his sense of humor. I can't say the same for myself. Following the great Battle in the war against the were-bears, I lost much more than just my sense of humor… my good looks, my eye, and parts of myself that defy identification.

The physicians thought I should have succumbed to my injuries. However, driven by an insatiable desire for retribution, I refused to let my heart stop beating. Clinging to the frayed handkerchief containing the soil I had scooped up before departing, I inhaled its earthy scent and endured the pain and suffering. I survived because anything less was unimaginable.

I am the Alpha of Snow Moon, the rightful heir to Snow Moon castle and five other estates, and the possessor of three additional titles. By the Goddess, I have come to claim what is rightfully mine.

My uncle and everyone who abandoned the three of us as children are about to discover that we have each grown into formidable men. I was astounded to find the men my brothers have become. They match me in determination and resolve. They are far from the pampered gentlemen or typical second and third sons content with an allowance and a life of pleasure. I could not be prouder or more reassured with them by my side, guarding my back, and ready to fight alongside me.

My gaze sweeps over the crowd, searching for my despicable uncle. My father had introduced me to numerous Alphas and Betas during our country gatherings, but I had been more interested in playing war games with their offspring. Now these sons have matured, and many are undoubtedly here, but recognizing them after all these years is no simple task.

"Look here," an older gentleman says, stepping forward. "You can't just barge into a man's home, disrupt an event, and brandish a pistol."

All three of us brothers are armed, but only Tristan had drawn his weapon when the steward… a stranger to us… refused to announce me as requested due to our lack of invitation. It seems Tristan has developed a penchant for impatience over the years.

"This is my home," I declare. "And I will enter it however I damn well please."

The gentleman appears taken aback, and although I regret my harsh tone, I can't apologize without appearing weak. My most difficult moments still lie ahead. Where the devil is my uncle? The coward has likely slipped away through a back door, scurrying off like the vermin he is.

A young woman of short stature, with a stubborn set to her mouth, ascends the steps and stops midway. Her gown is violet satin, with a string of pearls encircling her neck. Diamond and pearl combs adorn her blonde hair, and her figure is generous, suggesting a fondness for chocolate. I see doubt flicker in her eyes before she lifts her chin defiantly. "I am Lucia Rafe, wife to Beta Danix and soon-to-be Luna of Snow Moon…"

"No, madam, I regret to inform you that you are not destined to be a Luna. If my uncle married you under those pretenses, may he go to the devil," I inform her.

Her mouth drops open, her eyes widen, and she blinks repeatedly. Surprisingly, no one comes to her aid. Perhaps they are equally shocked or merely curious to see how this drama unfolds. I suspect I am providing more entertainment than one would find in a teather, an unfortunate consequence of making my case before witnesses.

Finally, she purses her lips and narrows her eyes, as if she believes she can make me wither under her gaze. But withering has never appealed to me. "I don't know who you are, sir, but…"

"I am the Alpha of Snow Moon," I tell her.

"That's not possible," she says, looking baffled.

I offer her an almost amicable smile. "I assure you, madam, it is."

"You're lying," she accuses, catching the eye of a servant and clapping her hands twice. "Remove this imposter and his rogue companions at once!"

"He speaks the truth! He is the Alpha of Snow Moon!" a feminine voice exclaims, and a tall, slender woman emerges from the massive crowd. She approaches the stairs and gracefully ascends, her pink satin slippers peeking out from beneath her pale pink ball gown. Stopping a short distance from me, she grasps the railing as if she needs support, fearing she might faint upon getting a closer look at my disfigurement.

I know what she sees… what they all see. Mangled flesh, thick scars cascading down my cheek, across my jaw, and along my neck, disappearing beneath my collar.

As she sees me more clearly, I see her as well.

Her hair is a familiar shade of crimson. A memory washes over me… riding across the land, pursuing a girl who could never evade me because her hair prevented her from blending into the countryside. Her presence enriched our surroundings with a vibrancy that matched her spirit, a brilliance rivaling the sun.

But this woman before me couldn't possibly be who I think. Where are her freckles? The girl I had known had been covered in a constellation that I had mapped out whenever she was still enough for me to study. I knew them as well as the stars in the night sky. And she had been as flat as a board. This woman possesses curves that invite a man to touch and linger. Her throat and shoulders are bare, and I imagine their silky smoothness. I spot one freckle just above the curve of her breast and wonder how the sun had managed to kiss her there. My mouth goes dry. Could she be…

"Mary?" I croak.

She smiles in response, a gentle upward turn of her lips. The familiarity feeds an absurd urge to speak with her first, ask how she has been, and then search for my uncle.

But then I see the pity in her beautiful green eyes and the tears welling up. My stomach clenches. I had both dreaded and longed for this moment of reunion. A pain far worse than any battlefield wound pierces my heart.

I know what I have become. I shattered the mirror that first revealed my disfigurement to me. I would have spared her the horror, but to expose my uncle, I had to expose myself. Just this once, and then I would be finished.

"Don't," I command, barely moving my lips, ensuring the word doesn't carry beyond her ears.

Blinking back tears and setting her jaw in a familiar determined manner, she nods quickly and squares her distractingly bare shoulders. "Your uncle only knew that you had vanished. No one knew where you had gone or what had happened to you. Rumors mostly claimed that you had died… wolves, illness, murder. So many tales. No one knew which was true. But after all this time, the certainty was that you were dead."

It's Raphael who laughs darkly, devoid of humor. "Well, it seems that news of our demise is somewhat premature, isn't it?"

Mary nods. "For which we are all grateful."

I doubt my uncle will share their sentiment. I turn my attention to the party's hostess. She, too, clutches the banister now, resembling a fledgling bird pushed from its nest before it's ready to take flight. I can't risk pitying her or displaying any hint of weakness. Though she might be innocent, she could still prove dangerous. "Where is he, madam? Where is your husband?"

She appears dazed, her brow deeply furrowed. "Likely playing cards."

"Send someone to fetch him," I demand.

Summoning her indignation, she regains her composure, stands tall, and meets my gaze defiantly. "I will not be ordered around in my own home."

"It's mine," I grind out, descending two steps.

She lets out a shrill scream and, with hands fluttering, dashes down the stairs. “Danix! Danix!"

I descend two more steps, followed by the echoing thud of my brothers' boots on the marble. "I am the true Alpha of Snow Moon. My brothers and I are reclaiming what was stolen from us."

"You resemble your father," a gentleman declares.

I almost laugh. "I no longer do, but Raphael does. Remarkably so. As my twin, he will serve as proof enough that we are who we claim to be. And I wear our father's signet ring."

I thought the ballroom was quiet, but now an even heavier silence envelops it, like a funeral's solemnity. I hadn't anticipated jubilant celebration, but I had hoped for more acceptance. I feel the stares and sense the speculation. I dislike airing dirty laundry before strangers, and I had considered confronting my uncle privately in his library, but the man deserves a public reckoning. This is the closest I can deliver.

"What the devil is going on here?" a voice demands.

Finally, there he is: the usurper. Blustering and plowing through the crowd, which I estimate to be at least three hundred strong. When my uncle reaches the stairs and looks up, he comes to a staggering halt. I shouldn't be, but I'm surprised by his appearance. I don't know why I expected him to remain unchanged when everyone else has transformed.

My uncle has never been particularly tall, but he's stockier than he was in his youth. Clearly, he's been enjoying the spoils he's stolen. Rings adorn his thick, well-manicured fingers. His hair is streaked with white. His nose points too high in the air, displaying the arrogance of a man who believes he's entitled to things he isn't.

"Hello, Uncle," I murmur softly.

Beta Danix shakes his head in disbelief before glancing around, perhaps seeking an escape route. "My nephews are dead."

This time I do laugh, though it's more of a snarl than genuine amusement. I can't recall the last time I truly laughed, but I know it was before my father's death. "Believing your own lies?"

"I don't know who you are..." my uncle begins.

I close the distance so quickly that he barely takes two steps back before my hand wraps firmly around his throat. I hear gasps, a muffled cry, a few throat-clearings, and grumblings, but no one dares challenge me. I can only imagine the impending threat my disfigured face conveys to anyone considering interference. It won't be tolerated. Not by me, and not by my brothers. I suspect they are silently issuing warnings with their stances. Indeed, each has learned to exude menace without uttering a word… a valuable skill when confronting one's enemies. And there's no doubt that Beta Danix Rafe is an enemy to us all.

When I was a boy, I thought my uncle was a towering, fearsome, and invincible man, but now I loom over him. My life hasn't been easy. My muscles are firm, my body hardened by the challenges of war. I can defeat a man with a sword, rifle, or pistol. If necessary, I can destroy a man with my bare hands or my claws and teeth. The temptation to do so with this despicable creature is almost overwhelming.

"You know damn well who I am," I say evenly, though my voice seethes with a fury threatening to burst forth. I knew it would be difficult to hold my emotions in check, to act like a gentleman rather than a barbarian, but I'm rapidly reaching my limit. I should have had a life with few worries, attending schools, and learning the ways of a future Alpha.

Instead, I have faced hardship, blood, and horror. My brothers have experienced much of the same. I was meant to protect and care for them, but all I have done is lead them through the gates of hell. I have let them down. My father would be sorely disappointed in me, but not more than I am in myself.

"We can go before the Court of Alphas if you wish, but one way or another, I will hold the titles my father passed down to me. You can skulk away quietly, or you can fight me. But let me warn you, I am a captain in the Lycan Queens army. When I have a goal, nothing will deter me. Raphael has sailed the seas… you're nothing to him. As for Tristan, he knows a dark side of Blackrock city that even terrifies me," I tell my uncle.

My uncle digs his fingers into my wrist and gags. His eyes bulging.

"You have one day to pack up your things and leave. We were given far less time to flee Snow moon castle with our lives. Take one item that doesn't belong to you, and Raphael will deal with you as he saw thieves handled in the Far East. He will slice off your hands," I growl.

"And be glad to do it," Raphael adds nonchalantly, as if the task required no more effort than swatting a fly.

My uncle's eyes roll upward. Another gag, a huff, a gurgle.

I know I should release my grip, but I seem incapable of letting go. This man is responsible for our last twelve years of misery. He has lived in luxury while we suffered. He stole everything from us and likely killed our father. He doesn't deserve to breathe. He doesn't deserve...

On my shoulder, I feel a touch as light as a butterfly's passing, yet it conveys urgency, capturing my attention as shouts and orders could not have.

"You're killing him," Mary whispers. "After all you have endured, surely you don't want to face the gallows now."

No, but suddenly this act isn't as satisfying as I had imagined. I have dreamt of this moment and anticipated it, but it falls short. My uncle is not a worthy adversary; he is merely pond scum. I fling him back, watching his arms flail wildly before he lands with a thud on the floor, sprawled like an overturned tortoise. "Sunrise, the day after tomorrow, I expect you to be gone, Uncle. I never want to see you again, and neither do my brothers. Our compassion has reached its limit. Challenge us on this, and you will witness hell unleashed."

Looking around, I see expressions of horror, confusion, and disbelief. And the pity again... when my gaze falls on Mary. The pity makes me feel like a vile beast because I'm no longer sure it's my marred features she pities. I fear it's my actions, my words. I have hardly behaved as a gentleman. I should have called my uncle out, no matter the disapproval. Though judging by the guests' reactions, my attempt at retribution is equally frowned upon. Not that I give a damn.

My uncle deserves to rot in the nearest cesspool.

I offer Mary a brisk nod before marching up the steps. I stride from the residence, hoping I have made it clear that the Alpha of Snow Moon has finally returned home.

Unfortunately, the more difficult task still lies ahead: convincing myself.