The Alpha King’s Rejected Mate

The world had gone quiet.

Not peaceful quiet. Not the kind that brings calm. But the kind that warns of something waiting just beyond the veil—silent, watching, breathing.

Kael lay sprawled on the cold floor of the temple ruins, his body trembling, drenched in sweat. The glyph on his chest still burned, even though the light had long since faded. Lyra knelt beside him, clutching his hand so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

He hadn't spoken in hours.

Not since the spirit vanished.

Not since his eyes changed.

She touched his face. "Kael, please. Say something."

For a long moment, nothing.

Then his chest rose. A sharp inhale.

"…He's not gone," Kael rasped. His voice didn't sound like his. It was layered—like two men speaking in one breath.

Lyra flinched. "What do you mean?"

Kael sat up slowly, eyes dark as storm glass. "There's something inside me. Someone. The First King… or whatever's left of him. His memories. His rage. His will."

She swallowed. "Is he controlling you?"

"Not yet." He stood, shaky but solid. "But the line between us is thinning."

The wind howled outside the ruins. It carried the stench of iron and smoke—war brewing somewhere far too close.

They didn't have time.

"Nia said there's a way to sever the pact completely," Lyra said quickly. "She mentioned something called the Bondbreaker."

Kael nodded. "I remember. It was forged in fire, used once in rebellion, then hidden. If we find it…"

"We might still save you," she finished.

But before they could move, a shadow stepped into the doorway of the ruins.

A man, cloaked in silver and marked with the sigil of the northern clans. His eyes gleamed with something cold and calculating.

"I've been sent to bring you home, Alpha Kael," he said. "Your throne bleeds. And your enemies? They're already circling it."

Kael didn't move. "And who sent you?"

The man smiled.

"Your brother."