My Alpha Uncle Died, and a Rogue Claimed My Pack’s Fortune

My uncle had no pups of his own, and he had long ago sworn a blood-oath will naming me heir to his vast territory and all its tributes.

But after my uncle's burial rites ended, I returned to his great den-estate, only to have a strange male burst through the doors. He claimed to be my uncle's lawful successor and demanded I leave at once.

"All of Fenris Ashenvale's holdings and territory rights pass to me. You will leave immediately!"

I refused to believe a word of it. I thought him mad—until he produced the blood-oath will.

I stared at two documents bearing identical seals, and immediately summoned the Law-Speaker.

After careful examination, the Law-Speaker looked at me with regret and shook his head. "Young Master Stormshadow, the will you hold has been voided."

My skull felt like it had been split open. Before I could even react, Alaric Ravenhart had already settled onto the great fur-draped seat. With practiced ease, he reached beneath the cushions and found the hidden cache of moon-herb cigars my uncle had secreted there. His fingers moved with familiar grace as he lit one.

I stared hard at the silhouette wreathed in pale smoke—strange and yet somehow achingly familiar—and forced the words out:

"Who are you, really?"

——

Ever since my uncle's wasting curse was diagnosed, the healers had forbidden him from smoking. Every stash in the den had been confiscated.

This hiding spot was known only to my uncle and me.

How could this stranger possibly know of it?

The male across from me wore no expression at all. He merely pointed at the name inscribed on the will.

"Can you not read? I am Alaric Ravenhart, the lawful heir to Fenris Ashenvale's estate. Now—will you leave?"

"Impossible!"

My voice cracked, nearly breaking. "This will must be forged! I demand the Law-Speaker verify its authenticity!"

Dorian Ravenhart examined the documents once more, his expression grave as he nodded. "This blood-oath will is genuine and binding. Alaric Ravenhart is indeed the lawful heir."

The expression on my face froze. I shook my head in disbelief.

"How can this be real? I am the one closest to my uncle. How could he possibly leave everything to you—an outsider?"

Alaric watched me with something like amusement playing at the corners of his mouth. "Then perhaps you should ask your uncle why he gave his territories and tributes to an outsider like me, rather than to a nephew he supposedly loved like his own pup."

I went rigid. My fingers crushed the edge of the will.

Cold sweat dripped down, one bead at a time, splattering onto the parchment. The words "Heir: Kael Stormshadow" blurred and ran beneath the moisture.

My uncle had never taken a mate. He had raised me—an orphaned pup who lost both parents when I was barely two winters old—as if I were his own blood.

I had grown up at his side. He sent me to the most prestigious training grounds for young wolves. He gave me every comfort the pack could offer.

Before I had even completed my coming-of-age trials, he brought me into the pack's inner circle to learn how territory was managed and tributes were collected. He taught me everything he knew about leading.

Despite my elder uncle's fierce opposition, he had declared all his holdings would pass to me—his sister's son—leaving not a single acre to his own nephew by blood.

Because of this, my uncle and my elder uncle had become bitter enemies.

My uncle loved me so deeply. He would never give his legacy to someone I had never once seen.

Something was wrong here. There had to be something wrong.

I forced myself to calm down and turned to the Law-Speaker. "I demand to see the recording of the will's signing."

A blood-oath will required proper witnessing—at least two Law-Speakers, a tribute-keeper, and a healer present at the ceremony.

They had to confirm the one making the oath was of sound mind, acting of free will, and that the contents truly reflected their wishes.

My uncle must have been coerced.

I fixed my gaze on Alaric, searching his face for any flicker of panic.

But his expression remained unchanged. He calmly retrieved the moon-crystal recording.

I watched without blinking, from beginning to end. My uncle's mind was perfectly clear throughout.

At the very end, when he carved his name into the binding seal, he pressed so hard the stylus tore through the parchment.

My head roared with white noise.

How could this be?

There was something hidden here. There had to be something hidden!

I lunged forward and seized Dorian Ravenhart by the collar of his robes, glaring into his eyes.