The Alpha of the 13th District

Kiera's war chamber.

The rain hammered the roof of the war chamber—heavy drops, but insufficient to mask the silence within.

Silver lanterns flickered above Kiera's head, casting long shadows on the stone walls of the room. The scent of an approaching storm and burning herbs lingered in the air. This was a room for war—not for emotion. But tonight, it held both.

She still gripped the edge of the table, restraining herself. The images from the mirror room still clung to her mind—the blood, her own voice from another life, the monstrous version of Asher.

Then a voice broke the silence.

"Beta Dren left an hour ago," said Rovan, one of the elite guards assigned to the inner perimeter.

Kiera nodded, without looking up. "Then why does it feel like he never left?"

Rovan looked at her, surprised. "Alpha?"

But before she could answer, something moved in the darkness.

She heard, a small sound but enough for an Alpha accustomed to treachery. In the darkness of the night, her heartbeat stilled, focused on every movement around her. Like a ghost of the past returning, seeking an opportunity to strike.

Kiera spun. But it was too late.

A shadow struck her—fast, heavy, calculated. She was thrown down by a creature with fangs and a fierce intent.

This wasn't a wild wolf.

This wasn't feral.

This was trained.

Trained to kill.

Trained to get past even her instincts.

Kiera growled, twisting her body as she threw the attacker away. It hit the wall but immediately rose, wasting no seconds.

Its face was cloaked, but its form—the movement of someone not used to losing.

A traitor.

Kiera didn't ask questions.

She transformed halfway—eyes glowing, claws out.

She met the next strike head-on—a clash of instincts. Hers, fierce and fluid, the mark of an Alpha born to lead. The attacker's, brutal and cold, shaped by betrayal and blood.

She brought it down in the third exchange. She landed on its chest, pressing her claws to its throat.

"Who sent you?" she hissed, breathless.

But the man only grinned. A bitter smile, tinged with blood.

"He said…" It coughed, spitting crimson, "You'd hesitate. That your love for him makes you weak."

Kiera punched it. Not because of the insult, but because she refused to accept it.

"He?" she whispered. "Who?"

It fell silent, then shook its head.

"You didn't fail as a leader, Alpha…" the man whispered, his eyes bloodshot. "You failed as a shield. He got too close. Closer than anyone should ever be allowed."

Kiera gripped the man's shoulder, her hand trembling. "Tell me who—"

Then she saw it.

His jaw tightened—like iron forged in silence.

A slight pop ripped through the air.

"No!" she whispered, filled with rage and dread.

Its mouth foamed. Its body convulsed then went still.

A poison tooth. Standard procedure for elite assassins.

No evidence. No interrogation. Just one bite and it was over.

Quiet, swift, and without a trace.

She almost didn't breathe.

Slowly, she lifted the collar of its clothing—and when she saw the mark sewn inside.

Beta Dren's sigil.

The symbol of trust. The mark she trusted—the sign she always placed under her protection.

Kiera stood.

Silent. But inside her, a storm raged—a tempest no one could see, but she felt burning.

"Alpha…" Rovan asked, approaching with a knife. "Was that one of ours?"

She didn't answer immediately. She just stared at the corpse. At the blood. At the sigil.

"I don't know anymore," she whispered, barely hearing her own voice. "But one thing's certain. Someone is destroying the inside of our pack. And someone is showing me where I am weak."

In the darkness of the war chamber, under the whisper of the storm—Kiera stood as an Alpha who had once failed.

But tonight, there was no hesitation.

Because her next move would signal the end.

Beta's War Quarters were silent.

Far too silent than they should be.

No sound of rolling scrolls, no whispered questions about plans or warfare.

No Dren. No one.

Kiera's boots echoed softly as she stepped inside, her silver blade still hanging at her side. Behind her, Rovan—her most loyal warrior—followed silently.

The room was clean. Too clean.

Except for one thing.

A fresh stain of blood on the floor—still wet.

Kiera immediately knelt, tracing the edge of the stain.

"Fresh. Less than an hour old," Rovan said, glancing around furtively, his eyes watchful. "But I saw nothing—no body."

"Which means…" Kiera stood, her eyes narrowing. "Someone wanted us to find the blood, but not the body."

She moved to the desk—an old but heavy table laden with maps, marked with recent border movements and sentry shifts. The arrangement wasn't messy—but it was clear something had been removed.

"Find the inconsistencies," Kiera ordered. "Coordinates. Patrol gaps. Anything that doesn't fit."

While Rovan pored over the maps, Kiera went to the bottom of the desk.

There she found a scroll—carefully rolled, sealed with red wax.

With her crest. The Alpha crest.

A chill ran through her.

She broke the seal and slowly unfurled the document.

"Beshrewed ancestors…" she muttered. Her heart dropped.

It was a kill order. Target: Asher Navarro.

"This can't be true…" she whispered, almost disbelieving.

Rovan looked up. "What does it say?"

Kiera handed it to him, quickly. "My crest. But I didn't sign this."

Rovan's brow furrowed. "It's forged."

"Not just forged. Planted. Someone wants this found." Kiera forced herself to remain calm, but her hand trembled. "Someone is trying to turn the court against him. Against me."

As she slowly unrolled the scroll further, she found a new line of ink underneath. Not standard. Not protocol.

The writing was fierce, angry.

"A kingdom doesn't fall from invasion.

It rots from within."

She shuddered.

"No…" she whispered. "This isn't just treason."

Suddenly, a drop fell from Kiera's finger. A drop of blood—from the cut she received fighting the assassin earlier.

The blood landed on the parchment.

Then something pulsed.

A glow. A rune hidden beneath the ink. An Old magic.

The shape emerged—an ancient symbol of a vow. A Beta's Oath Mark.

Only Betas could inscribe that rune.

Only someone bound to her in service could seal an order with it.

Rovan froze. "Alpha…"

Kiera stared at it.

"Beta Dren," she whispered. "He made the order."

Rovan's fists clenched. "But why? Why make it look like it came from you?"

"Because it's not just betrayal…" Kiera's voice trembled—fury burning behind her eyes. "It's entrapment. And I walked into it wearing my own name."

Everything made sense. The assassin. The sigil. The hesitation.

They weren't just trying to kill Asher.

They wanted her to be the one who ordered it.

Her kingdom.

Her rule.

Her love.

Was being turned into a weapon.

Suddenly—"A scream shattered the silence from the end of the corridor.

Rovan drew his blade. "That's from the eastern hall!"

They ran out of the room, straight into the hallway. A guard lay on the floor—his arm bleeding.

"W-Wolf—" he gasped, "The prisoner. He's gone. The door… it slammed shut. Someone… took him."

Kiera's blood ran cold. Asher. He was gone.

Kiera looked down at the bloody scroll in her hands—and realized the trap was already closing.

Someone was rewriting her rule in blood. And Asher… was the first line.

The air was heavy. It smelled of smoke and rain.

From the open balcony doors, Kiera was immediately met with the heat of the fire from the courtyard—some of the hanging lanterns were ablaze, while the red moon above seemed to sympathize.

It was raining.

But not enough to extinguish the fire. Or the rage burning within her.

She ran out of the corridor, almost unable to see because of the tears streaming down her face and the heavy downpour.

She was no longer Alpha. Not queen. Not warrior.

A woman, afraid, confused, and searching for answers.

"Asher—!" she screamed, her voice trembling.

Until she saw him.

Standing alone amidst the stone and rain, bathed in the light of the burning courtyard below. Soaked. Trembling. Clutching his side—and bleeding.

"Asher…" she called softly.

But he didn't turn around immediately. He stood with his back to her, as if deliberately avoiding her presence.

As she approached, only then did he turn.

Slowly.

His face was dark, but his eyes seemed like gold mixed with violet.

Something was different. As if something had awakened that should have been asleep.

Asher's expression? Emotionless. No anger. But far more terrifying than any scream.

He looked at her like a stranger.

"Is this what your loyalty looks like, Alpha Kiera?"

Something seemed to tear through her heart.

She couldn't move. She couldn't speak.

"Asher... I didn't—"

"You didn't order it?" he interrupted, his voice cold. "But they used your name."

Kiera's cheeks flushed. "That's a falsified order. Dren—"

"Beta Dren," He laughed—a bitter laugh. "The one you trusted second to yourself. The man by your side while I fought every monster behind you."

"I didn't know, Asher…" she said almost inaudibly.

Kiera approached, but he stepped back. As if even the air between them was poison.

Blood was falling to the ground, hitting the stone beneath her feet. Continuously flowing from the wound on his side.

"Let me heal you. You're not —"

She reached for his arm, but Asher pulled her hand away, slowly but firmly.

"Safety?" Asher asked, his eyes darkening. "Within your palace with teeth?"

Kiera froze.

Asher's voice broke—not because of the pain of his wound, but because of the weight of his hurt feelings.

"You're the only one I ever wanted to protect. But I see now… even the palace has fangs."

Tears fell.

She didn't want to cry in front of him, but she couldn't stop it.

"I didn't betray you."

"You didn't need to order it, Kiera."

His voice cracked like something fragile finally breaking. "You didn't need to hold the blade, or say the words."

He took a breath, as if even breathing in her presence hurt.

"All you had to do was stay silent… and that was enough. Enough to let them kill me."

His eyes met hers, empty of rage but full of pain.

"And you did."

She stopped. She had no answer.

"This isn't about the order," Asher added, looking her in the eye. "It's about the power used in your name. And who fed the snakes while you looked at the other end of the war."

She clutched her chest.

Not because Asher was hurting her, but because he was right. Every word he said cut deeper than any blade.

It wasn't the order that damned her.

It was her silence. Her inaction.

Her trust in the wrong people.

She didn't order it.But she still didn't stop it. And in the eyes of the man she once swore to protect, that made her just as guilty.

The man she once vowed to protect…

Was now bleeding under her name.

Her rule. Her crest.

And that was the part that broke her most.

Because even if she could take back the scroll. Even if she exposed the traitor. She could never undo the way he looked at her now.

Like she was just another weapon in the palace that failed him.

Like she was no different from the people who let the snakes crawl through the cracks.

Like the war had changed her into the very thing she fought to protect him from.

"Asher…"

But he stepped back. He turned his gaze back to the courtyard. To the fire. To the void.

"I'm not dead yet. But from now on, I'm no longer your fight."

The rain continued to fall—but it couldn't wash away the blood.

Or the distance between two hearts once united.

It was raining throughout the courtyard, but between them—there was still fire. And their memories served as fuel.

Kiera stood frozen. While Asher turned away. And the fire below kept burning.