The Alpha’s Forbidden Love

CADE

Born into the Parker family, I was the eldest son and supposed heir to the throne, yet fate’s decree favored my brother as the heir. Was I undeserving of the throne that the moon goddess had to reject me from assuming my rightful position?

“Why not me?” my anguished question echoed within me. A fit of relentless jealousy took root, festering over the years.

Members of the pack hated me for being cruel, if only they understood my plight. If only they knew what it was for me to watch my right being given to my younger brother. I knew my family never loved me, it was evident in the way they treated my brother with utmost attention, grooming him to be the leader and alpha of the pack.

My father, the alpha, remained resolute in naming my brother as the successor. Consumed by bitterness, I confronted my father, challenging him to reverse his decision and give me what was rightfully mine.

“Your brother has found favor in the eyes of the moon goddess. She has chosen him as the successor of this pack and there’s nothing anyone can do about it,” my father said, his voice resolute and firm.

“Damn, the moon goddess!!! the throne is mine, my birthright,” I snapped.

“You should be glad that the throne hasn’t left our lineage, you ungrateful brat,” my father sneered, his eyes red with rage.

My father’s response fueled a bitter animosity. I watched as my birthright slipped through my fingers, and could feel the disdain of my family etching scars into my soul. The confrontation left me scarred, emotionally and physically.

As time passed, my resentment grew more into a singular obsession – to dethrone my brother, usurp the throne, and claim the mantle of alpha.

A few years passed and my father died. After his passing, my devious plans began to unfold. I schemed and conspired with allies within the pack to undermine my brother’s rule. However, every strategy we pulled proved abortive, leaving me with a gnawing frustration.

“Cade…… it’s time.”

The gentle tap on my shoulder brought me out of my reverie. I frowned as I recalled all that had been flooding my thoughts. “Why did I have to remember all that now?” I mumbled.

“Sire, the army is ready to meet you,” one of my loyal guards said, “you don’t look well, is everything alright?”

I sighed. How was I to explain my torment to him without sounding weak? Remembering all I had to go through again made my blood boil in rage, but it was going to end soon. Another opportunity to seize power had presented itself – the impending assault on the hallowed manes. My army, a shadowy assembly of rogues and mercenaries, eagerly awaited my command.

The eve of the battle was here and it brought forth storms of emotions. I addressed the army with words of encouragement, concealing my inner turmoil beneath a veneer of authority.

“Tomorrow, we rewrite history, reclaim what is rightfully ours,” I declared, my words a rallying cry that echoed through the camp.

“What about the girl? She would have told them of our attack,” one of them asked.

“She wouldn’t dare to go to the pack in the Alpha’s absence. She’s probably hiding somewhere in the woods and I’ll find her but now the hallowed manes are more important,” I said.

Returning to my chambers, my thought drifted to my son, Nathan who had disappeared from the camp. The love I harbored for Nathan, a rare softness in my hardened heart, emerged. I regretted my actions, perhaps I had pushed too hard, too soon.

“My son, Nathan,” I muttered, paternal guilt weighing heavily on my shoulders. The impending battle paled in comparison to the fear of losing my son, my kin.

He was right, I shouldn’t have hidden his true identity from him. I should have told him all he needed to know soon enough. Maybe I wouldn’t have lost my son. I failed as a father because of my quest for the throne.

I struggled with the unvoiced fears and guilt amidst the strategic preparation. I feared that this attack might cost me more than a kingdom – it could claim the bond with my son forever.

“NO!!” I said aloud. “I know my son too well. Once I claim the throne, he will come back to me. He will be the heir to the throne.”

As dawn approached, my stoic facade belied a tumult of emotions, my joy for my son entangled with my ruthless pursuit of power.

A surge of anticipation mingled with my unresolved grievances, creating a storm within.

“Tomorrow, the hallowed manes will fall,” I whispered to the cold air, each word laced with a promise of retribution. Yet, a haunting question lingered in my head – was it revenge or retribution I truly sought?All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

I stepped into the deepest recesses of my chamber, where shadows danced like specters of my own making. The hushed whispers of the night enveloped me as I thought of my haunted past once more.

The tent became a confessional of my grievances, the sins of familiar bonds shattered beyond repair. My eyes flickered to a faded portrait on my chamber wall, an artwork from a time when laughter still echoed in the halls of the hallowed manes. My younger self, standing beside my brother, an image that masked the animosity fermenting beneath the facade.

“He took everything that was rightfully mine,” I growled as if my brother could hear me from the portrait.

The D-day had come and I began to give orders to my army. Amidst the palpable tension, I caught the silhouette of my estranged son. Nathan’s arrival gave me a sense of relief.

“Nathan, you came,” I called out, my tone carrying a blend of stern authority and an undercurrent of longing. The distance between us seemed infinite and infinitesimal.

“Father, you don’t have to do this,” Nathan said with the hope of swaying me from my plan. “There’s still a chance to salvage our family and spare the pack from needless bloodshed.”

“This pack, this throne – they are my birthright. You’ll understand one day when you inherit what’s rightfully ours,” I insisted, the weight of my ambition eclipsing my fatherly tenderness.

Nathan persisted, his words cutting through the tense air. “This isn’t the legacy I want, father. It’s soaked in the blood of vendettas and lost kin. Father, please reconsider.”

Unmoved, I retorted, “You’re too naive to understand the necessity of power. When I’m gone, the throne will be yours, and you’ll learn the cost of benevolence.”

“Then I won’t be part of this,” Nathan declared, leaving me with a bitter taste of solitude.

I stood and watched as my son walked away, the chasm between us widening with each step. A battle awaited me, but the silent battle within echoed the irrevocable choices we’ve made.