Second

XADIEL's [POV]

A YEAR AGO...

"Fuck, that last shot hurt," I hiss out a second before the sound of metal clashing fills the air. The brute force vibrates up my arms, shaking my chest, but I keep my stance and push forward with my shoulder. My father grunts as I do, meeting my resistance just as hard, but then a sharp scream rends the air.

Sweat and raindrops roll down my face, the quickly forming bruises from the blunt end of the handle meeting my side during our sparring throb, but I'm quick to turn and listen.

For a few beats, there's silence. No one calls for help, and no guard reports a problem.

Not so much as the rustle of leaves, but the moment I retake my fighting position with my chosen weapon, a large sword in my tight grip, another cry rips through the rainy afternoon air, forcing every muscle in my body to tense.

Everyone does.

The sound is full of horror—laced heavily with fear—and the steel drops with a sharp thud against the wet ground. There are a few seconds between the second and the next yell, louder and more harrowing, but the person it belongs to is now unmistakable.

Mum, where are you? I ask through the mind link but get nothing. There's a dull static between our communication. It's as if something's preventing her from responding, and for the first time in my life, my heart clenches in fear. Are you safe?

Again, I get no response. Nothing.

The one thing shifters in a pack have is the ability to talk through a mental connection, this invisible cord that ties us together and no amount of distance can interrupt. It helps when it comes to protecting the pack or giving out orders, but right now, it's failing me.

It's malfunctioning for my father as well. His worry is palpable and his wolf rises to the surface, eyes becoming black while mine are sure to mimic with their golden tone.

At once, we take off across the training grounds, not wasting another second while every guard on the field begins to shift, the loud cracking of bones following us. Our footfalls sound like thunder snapping against the forest, the horde right behind their leaders while my father's body morphs mid-sprint, his large black wolf snarling as we draw closer to his mate and my mother.

"She's strong and fights better than you, old man." Hearing me, my father's wolf nods to tell me he agrees, but I sense his emotions. His fears. "Our lands are safe. Have faith."

Those words are as much for him as they are for me.

Mum needs us. I can feel it.

And while the bond is different between mother and son, his fury is near choking.

Mates are sacred in our world, and I understand his unease. I'd react the same way if it were mine, and had I found her already, we wouldn't be apart. Ever. That possessiveness and all-consuming need is magnified by the beast within me tenfold.

I grew up watching the love between my parents and the elders all around me. So much of our history and origins start and end with the twining of two souls, the basis of who we are because your other half is both a strength and weakness. Your moral compass and destruction.

One does not function without the other.

We split. Come from both sides. Dad's command comes just as we cross the edge of the field, stepping now into the small patch of untouched forest that separates the royal manor and the training area. This is my kill. Just get her to safety.

"No mercy," I say out loud, gaining another nod seconds before he breaks away from the group, taking half our guards with him. Anyone close to the queen's garden rushes over. Something is wrong.

I was patrolling and heard the screams. Heading over, my best friend, Cain, responds quickly. When he came back from picking up his mate, a she-wolf he met and courted two weeks before completing the bond and moving her to the royal pack from a smaller, northern one? I have no clue, but right now I'm grateful.

He's a top warrior. Trustworthy. Almost as ruthless as I am and will someday take the position of my beta.

My ears twitch after closing the connection, straining to hear any more screams. Instead, I'm met with the heavy steps of wolves running behind me. Their snouts are low to the ground while trying to find a disturbance; a disruption that comes from the direction of my mother's flower garden near the west side of the castle a minute later.

A female figure turns the corner before we do. She's drenched in blood and crying hysterically while looking over her shoulder every few seconds. "Help!"

"What the hell is going on?" I demand, reaching her in a few strides. My hands grip her arms, pulling Aunt Theresa into a hug, trying to calm her enough to talk, but the scent of roses overwhelms me. The blood on her is my mother's. So much of it. "Where is she?"

Warriors surround us then, each looking for the enemy, hair bristling while low snarls escape angry jowls. They're feeding off my anger. This live bolt of ire blinds me for a second, and I forget the woman I'm holding is family. My mum's sister.

I feel my claws extend, the breaking of flesh as the talons grow and my fangs descend. Blood drips from my mouth, the sharp teeth breaking through my bottom lip while my grip on her tightens. It's not a full shift, but close enough and the animal in me is snarling and thrashing against my skin, wanting to be let out.

Protect. Kill.

Fury blinds me, annihilating any familial love, and all I see is an enemy.

"Answer me." Each word is spat out from between clenched teeth, the power in me as their next king forcing every wolf to bare its neck. "Now."

"Xadiel, you're hurting me. Let go," Theresa whimpers, her much smaller hands trying to push me away. The stench of her fear infiltrates my senses and my chest expands, taking the acrid scent into my lungs. Right now, I don't care who she is. Mum's blood is all I can see; I don't like the images in my head, made worse by her silence. "Stop this, nephew."

"Where's my—"

I'm cut off by the sound of a pain-filled howl that for a moment cuts off my senses. Nothing makes sense, and I'm disoriented. Sounds become muffled as my father's cry for his mate fills the air and many others of our pack follow.

Those around me move closer in defense. To protect me.

I drop my hands from Aunt Theresa, dragging my nails down her arms as I stumble back, fingertips now drenched in her life's essence. The force of emotions hits me hard, cutting me bloody deep, but I remain upright.

My mum's sister does fall back, though, scrambling back away from me while another wolf flanks her. They're a bit blurry, but enough that I can discern their whereabouts through the sudden fog weighing me down.

Who's the man protecting her? I'm not sure yet, and I don't care.

Not when on my next intake of breath, sound and the control of my movements come back in full force. So do the feelings of wrath and hurt mixed with a need for vengeance that isn't mine, yet I taste it just the same.

I take off without another word toward my father.

All werewolves heed my volatile emotions and stay out of my way, following but at a safer distance. The path that leads to the garden is now crowded with other members of the pack in both forms all sharing the same expression: devastation.

Each step closer to my family feels like a lead. Heavy.

Then there's the trail of blood; the scent of roses permeates the air.

A knot forms in my throat and pain radiates through my limbs, yet I continue toward the two figures on the ground. Tears form in my eyes, but I don't let them fall. My chest feels as though it's caving in on itself, yet I drop beside my father and wrap an arm around him as a broken sob escapes his throat.

My mother is beneath him. His shaking moves her body, and it's then that I take in what they've done.

The queen of werewolves is lifeless and... motherfuck, I can't.

What kind of monster does this?

"Who?" The snarled words come through loud and threatening. Kneeling further down, I place my forehead against the back of his neck, trying to give him some support, but he's inconsolable.

To lose your mate is the equivalent of no longer having a heart. Not having a soul.

And as his child, I sense that emptiness. His hurt.

"Xadiel," a male voice says before placing his arm around my shoulder and squeezing it. At once, my face turns and I bare my teeth, hand striking out. My claws dig into the top of Cain's hand on me; he doesn't complain. "Come, my brother. I'll tell you what I know."

"They decapitated her." Voice low, I watch him nod through the dark haze currently over my eyes. "They took her from us."

"I'm so sorry." My friend since childhood swallows hard, chest vibrating as he fights back a howl. There's also a large piece of fabric in his occupied grip, and he bends just enough to lay it respectfully on the ground.

"Who?" Standing, I shrug off his arm and take a protective stance in front of my parents. No one will come near them. No one will take a single step closer unless they want their throat ripped out.

Until I have a killer, everyone's a suspect.

"We don't know how they got onto our lands or who the bastards are."

"They?"

"Yes." He choked up a bit then. It takes him a minute, but Cain manages to gather his control. The person looking back at me now is a regarded warrior and someone I consider family. Mum adored him. That last one stings. Past tense. "We were able to capture one of the two males. Grady has him, along with the two guards who had patrol duties on this side of the property."

"Bring him. I'll deal with the guards after."

"Yes, Alpha." Not the first time someone's called me that, but there's a different connotation this time. The weight comes from the realization that my father will be unable to lead and protect; I'm who they'll come to in times of need, and I'll bear the brunt of the weight without complaint.

This is the least I can do for him while he mourns, and when he's ready, I'll step aside and wait to take the mantle after finding my mate. There's never been a king without a queen. To lead, you must have balance.

I'll deliver the head of this man and anyone else involved on a platter.

That's all that matters.

Vengeance calls to me. Darkness blooms within, and it demands payment.

As Cain leaves, I turn toward the gathered group awaiting instructions. Their attention's already on me. "Everyone, please head home. I'll—"

"Son." That one word stops me, and my head snaps in my father's direction. I also take notice of how his legs shake—of the utter pain in his eyes, and the way he covered Mum's body with the blanket Cain offered. "Please come closer."

I do so without question. There are only a few feet of space between us while my werewolf traits retract—all except for my hands. "Let me take care of everything."

"You make us so proud, Xadiel," he says, voice breaking while his hand rises between us. His nails become claws, tearing the cuticle area. There's also a beat of absolute silence as understanding dawns across our people. No one so much as breathes, but I'm still surprised when he cuts across his chest, fingers digging into the wound before smearing the blood there. "You're going to be the greatest king our people will ever see. So much more than I was, and my father before me."

"Now's not the time. I'll handle everything just the same."

"It is." Again, he swallows hard. "Now kneel."

Every member of our pack falls into position, those in their human skin placing a closed fist over their heart while the wolves lower their faces to rest over their paws.

A show of respect. Acceptance.

I drop to one knee as well. My eyes are on my father; his watery ones are pure black with the presence of his beast.

"I'm ready."

Swallowing hard, my father nods. "Caring for werewolves is what our family was born to do, Xadiel, and I can no longer do that." For a moment he moves his gaze toward those in attendance, an unneeded apology in his expression, before refocusing on me. "I'm unable to think past the pain ripping me apart, my son. My world ended today, and a king always puts his people before himself."

With swiftness, he slashes across my pectorals, mixing his sanguine drops with mine. Our combined blood feeds the grass beneath our feet, and the earth shifts a bit as I breathe through the sudden piercing burst of pain and then the power that now flows through my veins.

A vicious growl builds in my chest as little pinpricks rise across my limbs. There's a new consciousness, the awareness of the lives I'll be forever entwined with and responsible for.

Every pack.

Every member and sector leader.

All the lives under my rule.

They're all there. Now a part of my DNA.

"Stand, Xadiel. Rise as the king you were born to be."