She thought her life was already written. Then she discovered the world beyond the pages.
Samantha had her whole future mapped out under the tight grip of her father's control. That is, until one fateful encounter changes everything. Thrust into a h...
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2015
William's POV
"This is absurd! He's just a boy!" my mother shouted across the long oak table, her voice sharp enough to make even the guards by the door flinch.
The meeting room smelled of smoke and tension. Papers lay scattered before the pack council, half the elders arguing, the rest pretending not to take sides.
"Luna Tanya," Beta Wayne said carefully, "your son is eighteen. The law is clear – he's old enough to lead."
"So you think three weeks makes him ready to rule?" she snapped. "You think that changes anything?"
Their voices clashed again. They spoke as if I weren't even in the room. Typical.
I sat back in my chair, jaw tight, forcing myself to stay silent. My father was gone, my mother was falling apart, and somehow I had to fix everything.
When an Alpha dies before his successor is eighteen, the Luna holds the pack together until the they come of age. But my mother–bless her heart–was barely holding herself together. Her mate's death had carved her open, left her drowning in grief that no strength could hide. And everyone knew it.
Wayne's gaze flicked toward me, patient but weary. "We can't wait any longer. Midnight Creek needs an Alpha."
I swallowed hard. Midnight Creek–my father's legacy. Fifth largest pack in the world. A name built on fear and iron discipline.
My father had been a great leader, maybe even a legend, but never a father. He'd commanded, not raised me. He wanted a soldier, not a son. And now, even dead, he still controlled the room through his shadow.
Mother's hands trembled as she gripped the table edge. "He's not ready," she whispered. "Rowan wouldn't-" Her voice cracked.
That hurt more than anything. She still said his name like a prayer.
I stood before I could stop myself. "Mother," I said quietly, "let me do this."
Her eyes lifted to mine–pale, tired, and full of ghosts. For a second, I saw her strength flicker. Then she looked away.
My chest tightened. She was trying to hide it, but I could see it - the tremor in her hand, the exhaustion behind her eyes. The grief she tried to hide was eating her alive.
I turned my gaze to the window, to the nearly full moon hanging low over the trees that had been burnt down.
Darned rogues.
It should've felt like comfort – the moon has always been sacred to us –but tonight, it only made the silence heavier.
My father's death had taken everything from us.
And now, it was threatening to take her too.
Maybe she thought holding onto the title meant holding onto him a little longer. Maybe she was afraid of what would happen if she stopped moving – if she let herself truly feel the loss.
