Chapter 140: Liam’s Perspective

The Night of the Conquest

I had served as Valdus’s Beta long enough to know when something sat wrong under his skin.

It was there in the way he held his shoulders as we moved through the trees. It was there in the silence he kept, heavier than usual even for him. And it was there in the occasional glance he threw toward the dark-furred wolf running on his left—the boy Aphrodite had brought into our pack and named heir.

Ekon.

I stayed on Valdus’s right, where I had always run. The position was familiar. Comfortable. It let me watch both of them without making it obvious.

The target pack’s scent grew stronger the deeper we pushed into their territory. Border patrol had already been handled; the mind-links confirming the kills had come through clean and quick. Now the rest of us closed in under the cover of sundown. Warriors fanned out in the formation we had used a hundred times. I felt the usual pre-fight tension settle into my muscles—controlled, ready.

Valdus’s voice came through the link, low and absolute.

On my signal.

I watched him. His claws flexed against the dirt. Beside him, Ekon’s wolf was wound tight, fur ridged along his spine, eyes fixed forward with an intensity that looked too old for fifteen. The boy had trained hard these past months. Zeke and Cadmar spoke well of his progress. Helmer said he had instincts. But instincts without tempering were just another kind of danger.

Valdus gave the signal—a deep, resonant growl that rolled through every wolf present—and the forest exploded into motion.

We hit them while they were still mid-training. Their Alpha had been pacing the field, shouting corrections. The first screams were short. My wolves moved the way they had been ordered: destroy. I took down two males who shifted too slowly, my jaws closing on the first one’s throat before he could finish the change. Blood filled my mouth, hot and copper-bright. I did not linger. There was always more.

Through the chaos I kept one eye on Valdus.

He had locked onto the enemy Alpha immediately, driving forward with the single-minded focus I had seen in every conquest since we were young. But before he could close the final distance, a darker shape shot past him.

Ekon.

The boy slammed into the enemy Alpha with a force that surprised even me. For a moment the two of them were a tangle of teeth and claws. Valdus’s head snapped toward the interference. Even from where I fought, I felt the spike of pure frustration that rolled off him through the pack link—sharp, possessive, almost offended.

He’s mine first.

The thought was not directed at anyone, but it came through clearly enough.

What followed was messy. Valdus and Ekon both tore at the larger male. It was an unfair fight and growing more so by the second. The enemy Alpha was strong, but he could not handle two attackers who refused to give him space. I finished another opponent and turned fully to watch, because something in the air had changed.

Valdus finally decided the shared kill had gone on long enough. He clamped his jaws on Ekon’s back, hauled the younger wolf off, and threw him aside with a violence that made several of our own warriors glance over. Then Valdus was on the Alpha alone.

I had seen my Alpha kill many times. This was no different in technique—efficient, brutal, final—but there was an edge to it tonight. He tore the throat out in one hard shake and let the body drop. Blood darkened the fur of his muzzle and dripped onto the dirt. The enemy Alpha’s eyes stayed open, glassy and wide.

Around us the last of the fighting died. Bodies littered the training field. Our wolves stood among them, waiting.

Then Ekon got back up.

He did not lower his head. He did not show throat. He stood facing Valdus with his fur fully bristled and his lips peeled back in a snarl that was pure challenge. The disrespect was so clear I felt my own wolf rise in answer, ready to enforce the hierarchy if needed.

Valdus’s growl was low enough to vibrate in my chest.

He moved.

The dominance display that followed was clean and ugly. Ekon tried to leap. Valdus sidestepped, slammed into him, and drove him onto his side. One heavy paw pinned the boy’s jaw. The other pressed down on his ribs. Valdus lowered his head until their eyes locked and released a growl that carried every ounce of Alpha authority he possessed.

Ekon growled back.

Valdus increased the pressure.

I watched the moment the fight left the boy. The second growl he gave was weaker. His body went limp. His head tilted, exposing the length of his throat in reluctant submission.

Only then did Valdus step off him.

Silence held the clearing. Every wolf present—ours and the dead—seemed to wait for what came next. Valdus scanned the field once, confirmed there were no survivors worth keeping, and turned toward home without a word. He did not claim the territory. He had never planned to. This had been a message, nothing more.

Ekon fell into place on his left again. The boy’s head stayed low the entire run back. He made no sound. No attempt at the link. Valdus did not look at him.

I ran on the right and kept my thoughts to myself.

Loyalty was a simple thing on the surface. I had given mine to Valdus years ago, when we were both younger and the world still felt like something we could shape with our teeth. I had watched him become the Alpha his father had tried to carve into him—and then watched him fight against that same carving every day since Aphrodite arrived. I had stood beside him through blood and bad decisions and the kind of grief that turned men into something worse.

Tonight I had seen a flicker of Alcander in the way Valdus handled the boy.

Not the full monster. Not yet. But the reflex. The instinct to crush a challenge so thoroughly that the lesson stayed in the bones. I had seen the same look in Valdus’s eyes that I used to see in his father’s when a young wolf stepped too far out of line.

It concerned me.

Not enough to question him. My loyalty was not so fragile. But enough that the run home felt longer than it should have.

When we broke from the trees and the families waiting at the edge of our territory surged forward, Valdus shifted first. Aphrodite was already there. He went to her without hesitation, pulled her in, and kissed her like the night had been nothing more than a long patrol. I watched Ekon walk past them both with his shoulders tight and his gaze fixed on the ground. He did not stop. He did not speak. He simply continued toward the estate like someone who had already decided the conversation would not be worth having.

Valdus told her it had gone fine. That the boy had done fine.

I said nothing.

Later, after the warriors had dispersed and the pack had begun to settle, I found myself standing near the training fields with my arms crossed, replaying the moment Ekon’s throat had tilted in submission. The boy was powerful for his age. Ambitious. He watched everything the way Valdus used to watch his own father—measuring, learning, waiting.

A future problem, maybe.

Or a future Alpha who would one day need someone strong enough to put him down the same way.

I exhaled and ran a hand through my hair.

My job had always been clear. Guard Valdus’s back. Enforce his word. Keep the pack steady when his darker instincts pulled too hard in one direction. Tonight that job felt a little heavier.

I would keep watching.

I would stay loyal.

And if the day ever came when the boy on Valdus’s left stopped submitting, I would be ready to do what needed to be done.

For the pack.

For the Alpha I had chosen.

Even if the thing I had to protect him from was the future he himself was raising.