The Broken Crown

Fire

The faces stare back at me, eyes wide with anticipation, and a tension in the atmosphere which only makes me more nauseous. Taking in a deep breath, I try to calm down my nerves, wanting to make these faces disappear from view as I feel completely surrounded, as if the walls will soon close in around me. My heartbeat is fast in this moment, my hand squeezing my mother's tighter as I try and pay attention to their voices, trying to make sense of what they are asking of me.

"She's in no proper state to run a pack-"

"She needs time to adjust to the function of Crimson Lock. She has great potential."

I cannot understand why this is all still up for debate, my mind unable to wrap around the idea of why these men keep pushing me for something I have had panic attacks about for the past day. "Evelyn has known an entirely different life since she can remember." I recognize that calming voice, the very one of my mother – well – not my biological mother as I have come to learn. "You have to give her time to make a solid decision."

Lily Maxwell, the woman I have spent my entire life believing was just a woman who affected my world only in the way packs deal business and that there is no Alpha King anymore. My entire life I have believed Lily Maxwell to be just another figure in werewolf history...never that she would be the woman who gave birth to me.

"What do you know Quinn?!" Oliver shouts, pulling my mind out of a fuzzy state and back to the faces around me. "You were just your daughter's babysitter when Lily was letting the werewolf world know the truth of the brown crown kings have worn for centuries."

My adoptive mother was my babysitter, the mate of my adoptive father who was a warrior in Crimson Lock until he left to live life in Evercrest Ridge with Quinn – my mother. My true mother did not think she would make it out of her battle at the palace alive, giving me away to Quinn and Terrance Matlock to raise as their own. What would have happened to me if I were raised in Crimson Lock as the daughter of Lily and Nixon Maxwell?

Arguments spread throughout the room like a wildfire, bitter words being exchanged as I find myself taking in another deep breath, wanting nothing more but to leave this place. "Lily intended for her daughter to return back to Crimson Lock and take back the title of Alpha."

"No."

Everyone looks to me, shocked as I have spoken my first word in this entire conversation with such a stern tone. "No, I cannot just be an Alpha. That woman gave me to my mother to be raised by them the way they wanted to-"

"You know nothing of what your true mother intended," my deceased mother's Beta snaps, his words sharp as he seems insulted to be hearing these words from me. "Your mother did not want you to-"

"I could have been anyone," I whisper, looking down to my shaky hands. "Lily Maxwell gave me to my parents to raise me as they see fit. They saw the world your kingdom had become, they saw the danger of bringing me back here, and they made that decision for me." As I say these words, I find that they leave a bitter taste in my mouth. Looking to the woman beside me who raised me, I shake my head. "They tried to determine my destiny."

I try and get up from my seat, my legs turning to jelly as I try and make it out of the room, only for arguments to begin as I hear multiple people call out my name. "I could have been anyone," I whisper to myself, flinging the door of the office open, only to look down a hallway which seems longer than I remember, pack members of Crimson Lock lining the walls as they look at me. "Get out!" I cry out, watching as they scatter away, their eyes wide and concern spreads across their faces. A hand is laid on my shoulder and I turn around, meeting the eyes of my father.

"Evelyn, please listen to me-"

"I did enough listening," I growl, feeling the magnitude of my growl as the picture frames on the wall begin to rattle. I know understand why my growl has always carried such a magnitude, for I always questioned why my growl could match that of my Alpha's. Terrance removes his hand from me and I begin to walk away from the room, heading for the forest which calls me. Flinging the front door open, I take a look at the pack house which was built by Nixon Maxwell as a gift to his wife. This was my true childhood home – this mansion intended to be where I was to grow up.