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Section 1
### Chapter 1: Chapter 1
The Alpha’s twin. The future Beta. The girl destined to change pack law forever. When Serena Blackwood discovers she has two mates—both powerful, dangerous, and sworn to protect her—her world fractures. War is rising and the Council is watching. To save her people, Serena must become more than a sister, more than a lover—she must become a leader. And some bonds demand a crown.
Complete Chapters 30 Rating 5.0 ( 16 reviews ) Age Rating mature {"language":"en","storyId":1649102,"genres":[{"name":"Romance","path":"/genres/romance"},{"name":"Fantasy","path":"/genres/fantasy"}],"authorName":"B E Harmel","authorPath":"/brunaharmel","status":"complete","lastUpdatedAt":1777469404,"chaptersCount":30,"rating":5.0,"reviewsCount":16,"ageRating":"mature"} Chapter 1 POV: Serena
The corridors outside the council chamber always smell like iron and old stone.
Power, I think. Or the illusion of it.
I slow my steps anyway, even though the guards straighten the moment they see me. Their bows are respectful, but never deferential. Not the way they bow to my brother. Not the way they will one day bow to his Beta.
The council doors open before I reach them, and Alaric steps out like the room itself has finally exhaled.
His dark hair has fallen loose from the leather tie he insists on wearing during meetings, strands brushing the sharp line of his jaw. His blue eyes — the same intense, unmistakable blue as mine — are dulled with exhaustion, shadows carved beneath them like he hasn’t slept in days.
“Don’t,” he mutters the second he sees me.
I cross my arms. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I can feel it.”
I smile despite myself. Twins. Curse or gift, depending on the day.
“The council eating you alive again?” I ask.
He lets out a humorless breath. “They’re very concerned about the future of the pack.”
His lips twitch, but it doesn’t last. He glances back at the closed doors, lowering his voice. “They want to postpone the border expansion. Again. They think the eastern clans won’t respect a treaty signed by an unmated Alpha. Silverclaw keeps offering help, but somehow their help feels more like pressure than support.”
I stiffen. “You’ve been Alpha for five years.”
“And yet,” he says quietly, “apparently my leadership is still considered… incomplete.”
I step closer, close enough that our shoulders brush. Same face, if you looked too quickly. But where his posture is rigid, weighted by command, mine is coiled — restless, waiting.
“I know you can’t wait to be my Beta,” he says, softer now. “But if these meetings are already draining you just by hearing about them, you’d hate sitting through them.”
I lift my chin. “I can’t wait for them.”
He studies me, searching my face the way he’s always done when he thinks I’m lying to myself.
“You say that,” he replies, “but wanting power and being allowed to hold it are two very different things in this pack.”
The words sting because they’re true.
I’ve trained. Studied law, strategy, diplomacy. Became a lawyer. Fought alongside warriors twice my size and won. And still, every time my name is mentioned in the same breath as Beta , there’s always a pause.
When she finds her mate, they say.
“I want my place,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “And I want my mate. I’m tired of being half something.”
Alaric’s gaze softens. He reaches out, brushing his knuckles against my wrist — a twin’s comfort, small and private.
“You’ll have both,” he says. “I swear it.”
Then duty pulls him away, as it always does. He nods to the guards, squares his shoulders, and walks down the corridor toward the war room, already wearing his Alpha mask again.
I stay where I am, staring after him.
Not dramatically. Not magically. Just… warmer.
Cassian stands a few steps away, blond hair cropped short, skin kissed by sun and training fields rather than council chambers. His brown eyes — warm, steady, dangerously kind — meet mine, and something in my chest lights up in a way I refuse to examine too closely.
Head of the Guard. My brother’s right hand. The man who never looks at me like I’m unfinished.
“You were in there a long time,” I say.
His mouth curves into a smile that’s meant only for me. “I was waiting for your brother to stop glaring at the council long enough for me to escape.”
I laugh before I can stop myself.
“I’m headed to the training grounds,” he continues, shifting his weight. “Thought you might want to join. Clear your head.”
The invitation hangs between us, loaded with everything we never say.
Training with Cassian means sparring until my muscles scream. It means his hands correcting my stance, his voice low and steady in my ear. It means feeling powerful in a way the council chambers never allow.
It also means pretending I don’t notice the way his eyes soften when he looks at me.
Relief flashes across his face before he masks it, professionalism snapping back into place.
“Good,” he says. “I’ll walk you.”
As we fall into step together, I can’t shake the familiar ache curling beneath my ribs.
I believe in the Moon Goddess. I believe my mate is out there.
But some days, walking beside Cassian, believing feels like the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
The training headquarters hums with movement the moment we step inside.
Steel clinks. Boots scrape stone. Sweat and leather scent the air.
And then Cassian enters fully beside me — not just walking with me, but claiming the space — and everything subtly rearranges itself around him.
Conversations quiet. Soldiers straighten. Weapons are sheathed.
He doesn’t say a word. He never needs to.
The head of the guard doesn’t demand respect. He radiates it.
And this kind of power gives me chills in my lower belly; I always deny it to myself.
“Clear the circle,” Cassian orders calmly.
The soldiers obey instantly, backing away from the central sparring ring. I catch a few familiar glances sent my way — respectful, curious, proud. I’ve trained here my whole life. I’ve earned my place.
Still, there’s something different when it’s just me and him.
Cassian turns to me, rolling his shoulders once, slow and deliberate. His fitted training shirt stretches over muscle earned through discipline, not vanity. He is hot, I can’t deny it. Every movement is precise. Controlled.
I strike first — a feint meant to test his reflexes. He blocks easily, countering with a sweep that would have taken down anyone else. I jump back just in time, my heart already pounding.
We exchange blows, fast and fluid. He lets me push him. Lets me think I’m winning.
“You’re holding back,” I say under my breath as we lock forearms.
His mouth curves slightly. “Am I?”
I twist, forcing momentum. He stumbles — just enough — and I capitalize, driving him backward until he hits the padded wall.
For one brief, dangerous second, I feel victorious.
Then his hand snaps out, catching my wrist.
In a single, seamless movement, Cassian spins me, presses me flush against the wall, and pins both my wrists above my head.
My breath leaves me in a sharp gasp.
His body cages mine. Solid. Unmoving. Heat everywhere.
“Never assume,” he murmurs, leaning in.
Our faces are inches apart. I can see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Feel his breath brush my lips. My pulse is everywhere — throat, wrists, thighs.
The world narrows to this moment.
To the way his grip is firm but careful. To the way his jaw tightens like it’s taking everything he has not to cross a line.
My lips part without permission.
For half a heartbeat, I think he might kiss me.
Then Cassian inhales sharply and steps back, releasing me as if burned.
The space between us feels colder instantly.
“Point,” he says, voice rougher than before. “You almost had me.”
I swallow, steadying myself. My wrists tingle where he held me.
He watches me for a long second, something unreadable flickering across his face before the mask snaps back into place.
We finish the session professionally after that — too professionally. When it ends, the soldiers disperse, pretending not to have noticed anything.
“The Mate Ball is in one week,” he says casually. Too casually.
I freeze for half a second before taking it. “I know.”
“You and the Alpha turned twenty-five this year.” His eyes lift to mine. “It’s… a big moment.”
I nod, my chest tightening with the familiar mix of hope and fear. “I used to dream about it when I was a child. That the Moon Goddess would just… know . That I’d feel it immediately.”
“Now I want it more than ever.”
“Do you want to find your mate?” I ask, needing to know. Needing to hear it.
“Yes,” Cassian answers without hesitation.
Then his gaze drops — not to my mouth this time, but deeper. As if he’s looking for something he’s sworn never to touch.
“For the right reasons,” he adds.
Before I can respond, hurried footsteps echo down the hall.
A young soldier approaches, breathless. “Chief. Lady Serena. The Alpha requests your presence in the council meeting room. Immediately.”
Cassian arches a brow, glancing at me. “Now what?”
I huff a quiet laugh, already bracing myself. “I don’t know. He’s your best friend.”
“He is your twin,”Cassian add laughing.
I step closer to him, lowering my voice. “But let’s figure it out.”
Together, we turn toward the council wing.
And I have no idea that this moment — this tension, this almost — is about to be shattered by someone who should have stayed exiled.
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### Chapter 2: Chapter 2
The moment the council doors open, I know something is wrong.
Not the quiet, political kind of wrong — the kind that vibrates in the air, sharp and unstable, like a blade drawn too fast.
Alaric stands at the center of the chamber, both hands braced against the long stone table. His shoulders are rigid, his breathing uneven, blue eyes blazing with something I’ve only seen once before.
Across from him stands a man I don’t remember clearly — but somehow, my body recognizes him before my mind does.
Tall. Dark hair falling loosely around his face. Green eyes — sharp, knowing, unreadable. There’s a stillness to him that doesn’t belong to someone cornered. It belongs to someone who has already survived the worst.
I remember him as a boy, but now he doesn´t look like a boy.
I feel it first in my stomach. A strange, curling awareness. Heat blooming low in my body, unexpected and unwelcome.
I tell myself it’s the Moon Ball approaching. The heightened instincts. The restless pull that comes with it.
Alaric’s voice snaps through the room like a whip.
“You have no right to be here,” he snarls. “You killed him.”
Cassian steps in immediately, positioning himself slightly in front of me — protective without being obvious.
“Alaric,” he says firmly. “Enough.”
“No,” my brother roars, finally losing control. “You don’t get to stand here like nothing happened. You don’t get to walk back into this pack after what you did!”
The man — Malek — doesn’t flinch.
He simply meets Alaric’s fury head-on.
“I never said I had the right,” he replies quietly. “Only that I was summoned.”
I move before I can overthink it.
“Alaric,” I say, placing my hand on his arm. “Look at me.”
He doesn’t at first. His entire body is locked on Malek like a weapon aimed to kill.
Finally, his gaze flicks to mine. For a second, I see my twin again. The boy who used to climb the northern cliffs with me. The man crushed under a crown he never asked for.
“Breathe,” I murmur. “You’re not thinking clearly.”
He laughs harshly. “You don’t know who he is.”
“I know enough,” I say, turning toward him. “Malek.”
His eyes flick to me — sharp, assessing — then soften just a fraction.
“Lady Serena,” he says, inclining his head. “Malek Aethryn.”
“You were cast out,” I say slowly. “Years ago.”
Alaric surges forward again. “And you should have stayed gone!”
“Enough,” I snap — and the room stills.
Even Cassian looks at me in surprise.
I square my shoulders. This is my domain too, whether the council likes it or not.
“If the council summoned him,” I say, “then there is documentation. And I want to see it.”
Malek reaches inside his coat without hesitation, withdrawing a sealed bundle. He places it on the table and slides it toward me.
I pull my hand back like I’ve been burned.
I open the documents, scanning quickly. Legal language. Council seals. Two allied packs listed at the bottom.
The council didn’t request him.
“They’re sending you as a legal adjutant,” I murmur, more to myself than anyone else. “Because of the border instability.”
“And because I specialize in inter-pack law,” Malek adds calmly. “Which I studied for the last eight years.”
Alaric laughs bitterly. “So now you’re a scholar?”
“A lawyer,” Malek corrects. “For the council.”
I finish reading, my jaw tightening.
If we refuse him, the legal consequences would cripple us. Sanctions. Tribunal oversight. Months — maybe years — of political damage.
Work that would fall squarely on me.
I close the folder and look at Cassian. “Take my brother outside.”
“Now,” I say quietly. “Before you say something you can’t undo.”
Cassian hesitates only a second before nodding. He grips Alaric’s arm, firm but respectful.
“Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s cool this down.”
As they leave, Alaric’s eyes never leave Malek.
I exhale shakily and turn back to Malek.
Up close, he’s… unfairly handsome. Not warm like Cassian. Not comforting. There’s a sharpness to him — a controlled danger that makes my pulse jump.
“I’ll have a guest room prepared,” I say coolly. “This arrangement is temporary.”
I glance at him. “You were seventeen.”
“And now you work for the council.”
“You came back knowing my brother hates you.”
“I came back knowing I deserved it.”
I gesture toward the hall. “Follow me.”
I place him in a guest room near the east wing, instructing a servant to see to his needs.
When we’re alone again, I finally ask the question that’s been burning in my chest.
He studies me. “He never told you?”
“Do you remember your brother’s friends?” he asks. “From his guard training?”
“Of course,” I say slowly. “There were four of them.”
“I was given command during a border patrol,” he says. “I made a decision. A fast one.”
“I exposed Jason,” he continues. “I thought it would end the fight quickly.”
“I didn’t argue my punishment,” Malek says. “I accepted exile.”
“I need to speak with my brother,” I say quietly.
He inclines his head. “I’ll be here.”
I turn away, heart pounding — already knowing this return will fracture everything.
I went to Alaric´s office knowing this won´t be easy.
He steps back, yes — gives us space — but he remains near the wall, arms crossed, quiet as stone. A presence. An anchor.
Alaric is pacing now, hands dragging through his hair, breath sharp and uneven. The rage from before hasn’t burned out — it’s curdled into something worse.
“I will not allow him to stay,” he snaps. “I don’t care what the council wants.”
He turns on me slowly, blue eyes blazing. “Don’t say that to me. Not about him .”
“I’m saying it because it’s true,” I reply, forcing myself to hold his gaze. “And because you’re not thinking like an Alpha right now.”
He laughs — broken, incredulous. “Oh, so now you’re lecturing me?”
Cassian shifts his weight subtly. Just enough. Alaric notices. He always does.
“You studied the law,” my brother says, voice tight. “Fine. Explain it to me.”
I exhale. “If we refuse Malek’s placement, the council will intervene directly. Not symbolically — legally. They’ll assign oversight to our borders, our finances, our military movements.”
“And who do you think they’ll hold responsible for negotiating every single appeal?” I continue. “Me. For months. Maybe longer.”
“That’s their problem,” he growls.
“No,” I snap, my control finally cracking. “It becomes mine . And while I’m buried under council demands, this pack stays unstable. An Alpha without a Luna. Without a Beta. Surrounded by allies who are already watching us like we’re fragile.”
Alaric’s shoulders sag just slightly.
“This isn’t about Malek,” I say more softly. “This is about survival.”
He shakes his head. “You don’t understand what he took from us.”
“I understand that if you don’t listen to me,” I say, stepping closer, “you will take something from me.”
That makes him look at me again. Really look.
“I am asking you,” I whisper, twin to twin, “to believe in my judgment the way I have always believed in you.”
Cassian clears his throat quietly. “Alaric.”
My brother squeezes his eyes shut.
“Fine,” he grinds out. “Fine. He stays. For now.”
Relief floods me — sharp and painful.
“But I will not speak to him,” Alaric adds. “I will not see him.”
“You won’t have to,” I say immediately. “He’ll report to me. I’ll be the bridge.”
He looks exhausted. Older than his years.
When I leave him with Cassian — knowing he won’t fall apart with him there I don’t go straight to my office.
Instead, I turn toward the east wing.
Malek answers the door before I can knock, as if he was already expecting me.
“I need your full documentation,” I say. “Everything you brought for the council. Reports, recommendations, prior rulings.”
He nods once and retrieves a leather-bound folder thicker than the first.
As we walk, I lead him down a narrower corridor — quieter, less ceremonial — to a provisional office usually reserved for council envoys.
“This will be yours,” I tell him, opening the door. “For now.”
He steps inside, eyes scanning the space with calm efficiency. “And I report to you.”
He pauses, then turns to face me fully. “You’re not Beta yet.”
The observation isn’t cruel. Just… factual.
“No,” I reply. “Not until I find my mate.”
Something flickers in his green eyes. Interest. Recognition.
“The Moon Ball must feel close,” he says lightly.
“And you?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Do you expect to find your mate this year?”
His mouth curves — not into a smile, exactly. Something quieter. More dangerous.
I clear my throat. “I’ll have border reports sent here. Start there.”
He inclines his head. “If I need anything?”
I leave him there — grounded, composed, already working — and only then do I realize my pulse hasn’t slowed since I entered the room.
The files Malek submitted are… extensive.
Legal precedents. Council statutes. Treaty clauses I haven’t reviewed since my apprenticeship. My pulse picks up as I read.
Even accepting him will be a nightmare.
Rejecting him would be catastrophic.
It’s late when a soft knock sounds at my door.
I don’t look up from the papers spread across my desk. “Come in.”
“Sister,” Alaric says quietly. “It’s me.”
He stands there holding a cup of steaming tea, his shoulders slumped, the sharp edge of his anger finally worn down to something raw and exposed. His hair is loose, his eyes tired — not the Alpha, not the commander.
He steps inside, closing the door behind him, and sets the cup gently beside my hand as if afraid to disturb me any further.
“I’m sorry,” he says, voice low. “I shouldn’t have let it get that far.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled,” he continues. “Cassian… talked some sense into me.”
I take the cup with a shaky smile. “He’s good at that.”
My brother watches me for a moment. “I do trust you, Serena. I always have.”
He hesitates, then adds quietly, “Losing Jason destroyed me.”
“He was just a kid,” Alaric murmurs. “And I let Malek lead him into that fight.”
I reach for his hand. “You were all kids.”
“He made the call,” Alaric says, voice breaking. “And Jason paid for it.”
We sit in silence, grief pressing in from all sides.
“I’ll handle Malek,” I promise. “You don’t have to relive this.”
Alaric nods, squeezing my fingers. “Thank you. For carrying this.”
When he leaves, I sit alone in the quiet office, tea untouched, the weight of the pack pressing down on me.
And nothing — not the council, not fate, not the Moon Goddess herself — will let this remain simple.
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