THE ALPHA KING’S SON SCREAMED AT EVERY TOUCH—UNTIL A POOR OMEGA MAID FOUND A SILVER NEEDLE HIDDEN IN HIS FUR, REVEALING THE HORRIFYING TRUTH BEHIND HIS “CURSE”

Chapter 4

Three days after Isolda’s death, Prince Ash slept through an entire night.

No screaming. No biting. No waking drenched in sweat. No frightened servants running through the West Wing while the Alpha King stood helpless outside his son’s door.

He simply slept.

Meera remained beside him until sunrise.

She had been named Royal Guardian of the Prince. Theron had insisted. The council wanted to elevate her further — reward her, give her gold, land, a pack title. Meera refused everything except access to Ash.

“He needs recovery, not ceremony,” she said.

Theron had stared at her for a long moment. Then nodded.

A new healer was brought from the southern territories. Dr. Selene immediately began treating years of wolfsbane exposure. The poison had weakened Ash’s muscles, damaged his nerves, made his wolf permanently defensive. But with the silver gone, his body began to heal almost at once.

The first change was his eyes. No more cloudy haze. Then his appetite returned. Then —

Meera was sitting beside the bed when gray fur suddenly vanished.

A small boy lay beneath the blankets.

Ash. Human.

For five years, people had described him as monstrous. There was nothing monstrous about him. He had messy dark hair. Thin cheeks. Enormous golden eyes. And a scar at the base of his neck where the needle had been.

He looked at Meera.

“Don’t leave.”

Her heart broke. “I’m right here.”

Ash grabbed her hand. “You won’t lock the door?”

“No.”

“You won’t make it dark?”

“No.”

He stared at her. “Promise?”

“I promise.”

He fell asleep holding two of her fingers.

Theron watched from the doorway.

Meera noticed him only after several minutes. “You can come in.”

He hesitated. The Alpha King. The man feared across three territories. Afraid to enter his own son’s room.

Meera understood. Theron’s guilt had become another prison.

“He doesn’t hate you.”

His jaw tightened. “He should.”

“No.”

“I believed them.”

“You were deceived.”

“I left him inside this room for years.”

“You thought touching him caused pain.”

“It did.”

“Because someone put poison inside his spine.”

Theron’s eyes closed. “I should have known.”

Meera stood carefully, leaving Ash asleep. “You should have asked more questions.”

Theron looked at her, surprised.

Meera continued. “You failed him.”

He flinched.

“But failing someone doesn’t mean you’re forbidden from becoming better.”

Silence.

Theron entered. He sat beside Ash. His enormous hand hovered above the boy’s hair.

He still looked afraid to touch him.

Meera gently guided his hand downward. Ash stirred. Theron froze.

Then the boy leaned toward his father’s palm.

No scream. No bite. No agony.

Theron’s face broke.

One tear slid down the Alpha King’s cheek.

Meera looked away. Some grief deserved privacy.

Hours later, Theron found her in the corridor.

“Meera.”

She turned. “Yes, My King?”

“Theron.”

“What?”

“When we’re alone.” His voice quieted. “Call me Theron.”

Meera studied him. “All right.”

He looked uncomfortable. Another thing she never expected to see from him.

“I owe you an apology.”

“You already apologized publicly.”

“That was for the pack.” He stepped closer. “This is for you.”

Meera waited.

“I threatened your life.”

“Yes.”

“I used my Alpha command against you when you were protecting my son.”

“Yes.”

“I almost killed the only person who saw him clearly.”

Meera said nothing.

Theron looked at her wrist — the bite Ash had given her, now healing. “You didn’t strike him.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because he was frightened.”

“Most people would have reacted.”

“I wasn’t angry.”

“He hurt you.”

“He was hurting more.”

Theron stared at her. Something in his expression changed. Not gratitude. Something deeper.

Before he could speak, Ash appeared in the doorway. He was wearing blue pajamas, his legs still trembling slightly.

“Meera?”

She turned at once. “What’s wrong?”

“Bad dream.”

He walked toward her. Past Theron. And wrapped his arms around her.

“Mommy.”

Theron went still.

Meera knelt. “Ash.”

The boy pressed his face against her shoulder. “Mommy.”

She looked helplessly toward Theron.

He stared at his son. “Why do you call her that?”

Ash frowned. “Because she smells like Mommy.”

Meera’s heart stopped.

Theron’s face went completely blank.

“My mother is dead,” Ash said quietly. “But she smelled like rain.”

Theron looked at Meera. Vanilla and rain. Her scent. The scent that had calmed his own wolf since the moment he met her.

“The journal,” Theron whispered.

He led her into a private study that had remained locked since Lyra’s death. Dust covered the furniture. One portrait hung above the fireplace — Lyra, dark-haired, soft-eyed, kind-looking. Theron’s grief became visible the moment his gaze found her.

“She kept journals.”

He touched a hidden latch behind the bookshelf. A compartment opened. Inside rested a leather-bound book.

“I couldn’t read the final pages.”

“Why?”

“I blamed myself for her death.”

Meera took the journal. “Do you want me to?”

Theron nodded.

She opened it. The early entries were ordinary — pregnancy concerns, court politics, love for Theron, fear about succession.

Then Meera reached the final months.

Her breathing changed.

Theron noticed. “What?”

“Lyra couldn’t have children.”

His face drained of color. “What?”

Meera read silently. Lyra had learned years earlier that her wolf bloodline could not safely carry an Alpha heir. The council would have pressured Theron to take another woman. She had refused to let politics decide his family.

Instead, she made an arrangement. Secretly. With a Packbinder Omega from the southern territories — a woman genetically capable of carrying pure Alpha blood.

A surrogate.

Theron’s hands began trembling. “Who?”

Meera kept reading. The woman’s name was Elena. Young. Packless. Vanilla and rain scent. A rare Packbinder lineage.

Meera stopped. Her heart began pounding.

“What?” Theron’s voice sharpened. “Meera?”

She turned the page.

Lyra wrote that Elena had carried Theron’s child through a ritual transfer using royal blood and moon magic. Theron had never known. Lyra feared the elders would reject a surrogate born Omega. So the pregnancy had been hidden.

When Ash was born, Elena gave him to Lyra. But Isolda already knew something. She began spreading rumors that Ash was weak. Lyra became afraid.

Then the journal changed. The handwriting grew shaky. Lyra suspected poison. She believed Isolda was working with her birth pack to destabilize Thorn Ridge.

She arranged for Elena to disappear. To live under another identity. To survive in case Ash ever needed the Packbinder bond — the connection between biological mother and Alpha heir.

Meera’s hands shook violently. “There is more.”

Theron could barely speak. “Read it.”

Meera read the final page.

If anything happens to me, Elena must never return until Ash is in mortal danger. He will know her by scent before memory. Her Packbinder blood will awaken when his life is threatened. She will feel his pain even without understanding why.

Meera stopped. Theron’s face went white.

“What was Elena’s surname?”

Meera already knew before reading it. She looked down.

“Vale.”

Silence.

Meera’s mother’s surname. Her own birth records listed her mother as Elena Vale.

Except there had always been one strange detail. Meera had been raised believing Elena was her mother. But she remembered almost nothing from early childhood. A foster family had told her Elena died when she was young.

Meera kept reading. Another truth emerged.

Elena had not been Meera’s mother.

Meera was Elena.

The name Meera had been given later. A magical identity seal had been placed over her memories. Lyra had arranged it. After Ash’s birth, Elena had been given a potion to suppress traumatic memories and allow her to disappear completely.

She had been only nineteen. Terrified. Targeted. And willing to lose even the knowledge of her own child if it kept him alive.

Meera dropped the journal. “No.”

Theron didn’t move. “No.”

Meera backed away. “That’s impossible.”

Theron stared at her. “Your age?”

“Twenty-four.”

“Ash is five.”

“No.”

“It fits.”

“I would remember having a child.”

“Not if Lyra sealed it.”

Meera’s chest tightened. Then memories began breaking through. Not full memories. Fragments.

A room filled with moonlight. A woman holding her hand. Lyra. Pain. A newborn crying. A tiny gray wolf pup against her chest. A promise.

Protect him.

Meera stumbled. Theron caught her.

The moment his hand touched her, something exploded inside her mind.

The seal broke.

Meera screamed.

She saw everything.

She remembered labor. Remembered Lyra kneeling beside her. Remembered Theron’s blood used in the ritual months earlier. Remembered holding Ash. Remembered loving him immediately. Remembered Isolda watching from a doorway.

Remembered fear.

Remembered Lyra telling her she had to disappear.

“If they know you’re his mother, they’ll kill you first.”

Meera had cried. “I can’t leave him.”

“You aren’t leaving him. You’re surviving for him.”

Then Lyra kissed Ash’s forehead.

“If Thorn Ridge ever fails him, your blood will bring you back.”

Meera returned to the present gasping, Theron still holding her.

She whispered one word.

“My son.”

Theron’s eyes filled. “Yes.”

“My son.”

She tore away from him and ran.

Through the corridor. Up the stairs. Into the nursery.

Ash sat on the bed. The moment he saw her, his face brightened.

“Mommy.”

This time Meera did not hesitate. She dropped to her knees, pulled him into her arms, and sobbed.

Ash hugged her. His little hands tangled in her clothes.

“I knew.”

“You knew?”

“You smell like home.”

Meera buried her face against his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I left you.”

Ash pulled back. “You came back.”

Three words. That was all.

Meera cried harder.

Theron stopped in the doorway. He watched the mother of his child holding their son.

And something inside the Alpha King changed forever.

But another question remained.

Why had his wolf reacted to Meera from the very first moment?

Gratitude could explain attachment. Packbinder magic could explain calm. It could not explain the violent recognition now burning through every instinct inside him.

Mate.

Theron had loved Lyra. Truly. Deeply. But Lyra had never been his fated mate. Their bond had been chosen. Honorable. Real.

Meera was something else.

The bond snapped into clarity the moment she looked toward him. Her own wolf awakened. For the first time in years, Meera heard her clearly.

Mate.

Meera froze. Theron saw it happen.

“You feel it.”

She looked terrified. “What is this?”

“The mate bond.”

“No.”

“A Packbinder can carry an Alpha heir without being mated.”

“Then why—”

“Because Lyra didn’t choose you only because of your bloodline.”

He thought about the journal. Lyra had known more.

They returned to the study. The final loose page had fallen beneath the desk.

Theron picked it up. Lyra’s handwriting.

If Elena ever returns and Theron’s wolf recognizes her, do not mourn me. I knew before either of them did. The Moon Goddess gave me love for a season and gave him his eternal mate afterward. I was never replaced. I was part of the road that brought them together.

Theron’s eyes closed. Meera covered her mouth.

Lyra had known. Even dying, she had protected all three of them.

“She was extraordinary,” Theron whispered.

“She loved you.”

“Yes.”

“And Ash.”

“More than anything.”

Meera looked toward the portrait. “She saved me too.”

Theron nodded.

There was no jealousy in that room. No competition between a living woman and a dead Luna. Only gratitude. Lyra had loved enough to prepare a future she would never see.