Unraveling the Past
Draven stood on the balcony of the packhouse, his amber eyes scanning the courtyard below, where wolves prepared for the looming confrontation with Malrik.
Susan approached from behind, her boots crunching softly against the wood. “You’re too quiet, Alpha,” she said, her voice laced with concern. “That’s never a good sign.”
Draven didn’t turn, his gaze fixed on the distant forest. “They need to be ready,” he said. “Malrik doesn’t play fair.”
Susan leaned against the railing, studying him. “You’ve faced him before, haven’t you?”
Draven’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Yes.”
Micah joined them, her healer’s bag slung over her shoulder. “Then tell us what we’re dealing with,” she said, her tone firm. “This pack will follow you to hell, but they need to know what they’re up against.”
Draven’s amber eyes flickered with something unspoken—pain, regret, anger. “You want to know about Malrik?” he said, his voice low. “Fine. I’ll tell you.”
He leaned against the railing, his broad shoulders rigid. “We have the same father. But different mothers.”
Micah’s brows furrowed. “I didn’t know that.”
“Not many do,” Draven said. “Our father was… a tyrant. Ruthless, selfish. My mother was his mate, chosen by the pack. She was everything a Luna should be—loyal, strong, devoted. But that wasn’t enough for him. He brought Malrik’s mother into the pack—a wolf from a rogue clan. She was clever, manipulative, and my mother’s opposite in every way.”
Susan crossed her arms, her voice sharp. “Let me guess. The pack didn’t take kindly to that.”
Draven nodded grimly. “It tore the pack apart. Wolves took sides. My mother did her best to hold things together, but the betrayal broke her. And when my father brought Malrik into the world, it only made things worse. I hated him from the moment I saw him.”
Micah frowned. “Because of his mother?”
“Because he was the living reminder of everything my father destroyed,” Draven said, his voice thick with emotion. “My mother tried to move past it, to raise me above the mess. But I was young, angry, and stubborn. I couldn’t see past my own pain.”
Susan’s gaze softened, though her tone remained firm. “What happened?”
“Our father pitted us against each other,” Draven said, his claws scraping the wooden railing. “Every fight, every test—it was always me versus Malrik. And I always won. I was bigger, stronger, faster. I made sure he knew it.”
Micah’s voice was quiet. “You blamed him for your father’s sins.”
Draven turned to her, his amber eyes dark. “I did. I bullied him. I made him feel small, powerless. I wanted him to hurt as much as I did.”
Susan’s jaw tightened. “And he fought back.”
“Not at first,” Draven admitted. “He was weak, sickly. But he was patient. While I was fighting him head-on, he was plotting. Whispering lies, planting doubts. He turned wolves against me without ever lifting a claw. By the time I realized what he was doing, it was too late.”
Micah stepped closer. “What did he do?”
Draven exhaled sharply. “He betrayed us. He sold pack secrets to rogues, sabotaged alliances, anything to hurt me. When our father died, he tried to challenge me for leadership. But he couldn’t win a fight, so he fled. And he’s been festering in the shadows ever since.”
Susan’s voice was grim. “And now he’s back.”
Draven nodded. “He’s always wanted what I have. This pack, the power, the respect. But this time, he’s not just after me. He’s after Isla, the twins, everything I’ve built.”
Micah rested a hand on his arm, her expression resolute. “We won’t let him take it. But we need to be ready for whatever he throws at us.”
Draven straightened, his amber eyes blazing with determination. “Then we prepare. Malrik thrives on manipulation and chaos, but we’ll face him head-on. And this time, he won’t get away.”
Susan smirked faintly, her confidence unwavering. “Good. Because this pack doesn’t lose.”
Draven’s lips twitched into a brief, fierce smile. “Not anymore.”
