“Watch your step, Fheraen! You might catch something,” a voice echoed from the edge of the training grounds. We snapped our heads around.
To my absolute dismay, the figure standing there was Aevren, my own fiancé. Through the suffocating confines of my disguise, his true character finally bled through. Behind my back, he thought nothing of tearing Ryker down, mocking him with cruel impunity.
Yet, whenever our parents were in the room, he wore the flawless mask of a wise and compassionate gentleman.
“I doubt his scabies is that contagious—or maybe it’s just localized to his face,” Fheraen retorted casually.
I knew he wasn’t standing up for me; he was merely covering his own skin after accidentally brushing against my hand.
He was right, of course. Life at this academy was nothing less than a grueling dress rehearsal for the life awaiting me. Indirectly, I was being conditioned to analyze future alphas, betas, and gammas from rival packs, learning the hard way how to navigate institutional cruelty. Unlike my days back at the Sapphire Pack, private moments were practically extinct. My top priority remained absolute vigilance, ensuring no one ever saw through the boyish facade I wore like armor.
“Ryker, care to wash up with me?” Fheraen’s sudden question caught me off guard. I had just finished readjusting the tight binding cloth wrapped around my chest to flatten my figure.
“As tempting as that sounds, surely you know scabies spreads easily through shared water, Fheraen,” I replied, smoothly deflecting his offer. I always made it a point to finish my bathing routine before the rest of the men, usually slipping away while they were distracted by communal meals.
“Right, I keep forgetting,” Fheraen clicked his tongue in mild annoyance. “Just make sure you’ve got my essay finished by the time I get back,” he added with a firm reminder.
Academic chores like that were child’s play to me. With seamless access to the campus network and the library, I knocked out his papers effortlessly. Long before stepping foot in this academy, I used to sneak into the Sapphire Pack’s restricted archives just to devour books. While Ryker was spoon-fed a comprehensive elite education, my academic diet had been strictly restricted to basic literacy.
My father had spared no expense, flying in specialized tutors from every discipline to groom Ryker. Meanwhile, I was barred from entering even standard classrooms back home. Father had been terrified that my natural aptitude would overshadow Ryker or threaten his birthright as the future alpha.
Consequently, I was legally and socially forbidden from ever outshining him.
“I only just found out you’re slated to be Aevren’s future brother-in-law,” Fheraen remarked, striding over with nothing but a towel slung low around his waist, displaying a broad, muscular chest.
“I wouldn't say I'm celebrating Freya’s passing, but I am at least thankful she’ll never have to tie herself to him,” I countered, subtly reminding Fheraen of how callously Aevren had just mocked Ryker’s affliction.
“Didn’t your sister have high hopes for that match?” Fheraen asked, his curiosity piqued.
“I suspect Freya simply felt she had no alternative. Had I possessed even a fraction of the authority my father wields, I would have severed that engagement myself. I have zero tolerance for arrogant, toxic in-laws.”
Swallowing down the bitter resentment I harbored toward Aevren, I also had to project the calm, composed demeanor expected of a future male pack leader. I spoke with deliberate poise, mirroring the expected masculine grace. Above all, I had to master swordplay and marksmanship, because a man’s honor in these packs was still heavily weighed by his prowess with steel—even if, in actual warfare, Sapphire Pack members could simply shift into their feral wolf forms.
“You’ll be calling all the shots once you take the alpha seat,” Fheraen reassured me with a grin.
And he was entirely right. Once I claimed my rightful place as alpha, the restrictions would finally lift. For now, my strategy was simple: dodge Aevren at all costs and focus entirely on survival and combat mastery.
I spent hours dissecting Fheraen’s techniques with broadswords, hunting knives, composite bows, and spears. Despite his cocky demeanor, he was fiercely skilled—though he frequently bragged that his twin brother was even deadlier.
Every single member of the Ruby Line Pack was drilled relentlessly in weaponry, largely because their strict territorial borders prevented them from shifting into wolves the moment they stepped off home ground.
For four grueling months at this academy, Fheraen’s constant presence had simply become a fixture of my daily routine. That was until the morning I discovered he had vanished without a single word of goodbye. I checked our quarters, searched the library, and scoured both the surrounding timberland and the riverbanks, but he had completely disappeared from the grounds.
“Fheraen’s term here is over. He’s not coming back,” Aevren murmured, approaching me with an unsettling familiarity, as if he could read my thoughts. It caught me off guard; he rarely ever initiated contact.
“What, were you tailing me?” I snapped back, my tone dripping with bitter sarcasm.
“I merely came to offer my condolences regarding your sister’s passing,” Aevren replied smoothly, though his expression remained completely detached, devoid of any genuine sorrow.
A crooked, cynical smile tugged at the corner of my lips. He wasn't mourning; he was celebrating. Her tragic death had instantly nullified our formal engagement.
“Shouldn’t I be the one offering condolences, considering you’re the one who just lost a fiancée?” I retorted, my voice turning glacial.
Aevren inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring as he tested the air like a predator catching an unfamiliar scent. His face suddenly drained of color, his lips trembling slightly as a razor-sharp gaze locked onto me. Before I could blink, his hand lunged forward to yank off my mask, but I batted his wrist away instantly.
“I recognize that scent,” he whispered, the realization weighing heavily on every syllable.
I recoiled a step, certain that my masquerade had finally collapsed. Yet, I forced myself to hold my ground—I couldn't afford a breakdown here, nor could I let him expose me before I was fully prepared to claim the Sapphire Pack leadership on my own terms.
“You aren’t Ryker! How the hell have you been pulling off this farce?” Aevren breathed out, his lips quivering as he struggled to process the shock.
“So what if I am? I orchestrated this whole charade just to break free from you, Aevren!” I forced the words past my tight throat, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
Aevren sneered, recovering his composure with a venomous hiss. “The academy leaders will execute you the moment they find out.”
And, of course, he wasn’t wrong. This institution was strictly reserved for future pack rulers, exclusively future alphas, and every single enrolled student was legally mandated to be male.
“Your own father would skin you alive if he caught wind of how many pack girls you’ve defiled and gotten pregnant behind closed doors, Aevren,” I fired back, meeting his threat with a devastating counter.
“I’m deadly serious. I’ll send a direct courier to the After Dark Pack tonight and lay out every single detail for your father. So keep your mouth shut about who I am,” I warned, my voice hardening into an unyielding ultimatum as he stood frozen in stunned silence.
“My younger brother is still an infant; I’m Alpha Nolan’s only viable successor,” Aevren scoffed, his arrogance returning in full force. It was that exact intolerable ego that made me despise him so deeply: reckless, entitled, hedonistic, and perpetually drunk on privilege. Fortunately, the Moon Goddess had shown mercy by blessing Luna Alice with another son, ensuring a backup heir existed should Aevren prove utterly unfit to rule.
“Your father is still in his prime. He has more than enough time to raise and mold your baby brother into a proper leader,” I countered, a triumphant edge to my tone.
“Get a grip, Aevren. You don't need to feel threatened just because we happen to share classrooms, nor do you need to feel insecure about my claim to the Sapphire Pack. Surely your masculinity isn’t that fragile,” I added, delivering each word with deliberate, calculated precision.
“Keep my secret buried, or I’ll ensure your father finishes you off,” I whispered my final warning before turning on my heel and leaving him standing alone in the corridor.
That intense confrontation with Aevren momentarily shoved Fheraen from my mind. Because the academy admitted new cohorts twice a year, faces constantly rotated in and out. Boys arrived and departed with the seasons. Yet none of them mattered, because the only departure that genuinely gutted me was Fheraen’s.
“Damn it all,” I let out a ragged breath, suddenly hit by the bitter realization that Fheraen had only ever known me as Ryker, as a brother in arms. He had never truly seen the face hidden beneath my mask.
Aevren surprisingly honored his word, keeping my masquerade as Ryker strictly confidential. Because of his silence, I managed to navigate the remainder of my tenure at the alpha academy largely unbothered, even in the crushing emptiness left by Fheraen’s absence.
“The Ruby Line Pack produced twin heirs, both groomed with identical alpha training—yet a territory only requires a single ruler. Doesn’t that strike you as redundant?” I muttered under my breath one afternoon, having recently discovered that Fheraen’s twin, Dherael, had also attended this very institution the previous year.
“Those cousins were bred for conquest. Instead of dissecting their family tree, you should be watching your own back before they swallow your pack whole,” Aevren’s voice cut across the open air as he materialized near the riverbank a short distance away.
“So, which of the two is slated for the alpha seat?” I pressed, despite already hearing rumors that Dherael, the older twin, held the primary claim to the Ruby Line succession.
Aevren flashed a sardonic smirk. “Panicking that it might not be Fheraen, are we?” he deflected, tossing the question right back into my lap.
“I merely find it peculiar that both brothers wound up cycling through this academy,” I retorted, ignoring his jab.
“You’ll swim in enough chaos soon enough,” Aevren replied vaguely, his gaze locked straight ahead, refusing to look my way.
I eventually abandoned the search for answers. Strangely enough, digital footprints for people of our status were tightly controlled; Fheraen had no public social media footprint, and the Ruby Line Pack’s official archives offered virtually nothing on him beyond basic registry data.
Time slipped away until the long-awaited morning of my graduation finally arrived. Yet, a heavy sense of foreboding settled in my gut—none of the Sapphire Pack's envoys had shown up to escort me home, and my repeated calls to Zane went straight to voicemail.
Left with no alternative, I packed my gear and boarded a standard public bus. After a grueling year away, I was finally returning to the Sapphire Pack, fully prepared to claim my birthright and lead.
I stepped off the transit bus into the biting midnight chill. The massive iron gates of our territory stood in eerie, dead silence—no ceremonial banners, no welcoming committee, no sign of life. But exhaustion outweighed my suspicions; all I craved was sleep.
Approaching our ancestral mansion, I found it deceptively quiet, though the household staff had clearly maintained the grounds in my absence.
“Why wasn’t there a carriage or a car sent to pick me up? Didn’t Zane get my messages about today?” I demanded, my voice raspy. A full year of daily medicinal drafts prescribed by Dr. Zerry had permanently ruined my vocal cords, forcing me to keep my rasp low. I still hadn't dared to remove my mask.
The servants merely exchanged pale, nervous glances. I frowned, noting how drastically this cold reception contrasted with the warmth of my father’s reign.
Dismissing them with a wave, I ordered a proper breakfast prepared for the morning, specifically requesting all of Ryker’s favorite dishes, before retiring to my quarters, too drained to untangle the oddities.
The next morning, my first priority was tracking down Zane. Hearing he was holding court at the main packhouse, I headed straight there. But the moment I stepped past the grand oak doors, I froze dead in my tracks.
My uncle, the pack’s trusted beta, was lounging casually on the alpha’s throne. The cavernous hall was entirely empty except for him.
“Welcome home, Freya. So you’ve finally crawled back after a year of exile,” his voice boomed, ricocheting cruelly off the stone walls.
“Exile?” I bristled, stepping forward with a scowl. “What in the Goddess's name do you think you’re doing in my father’s seat?” The words slipped out before I could check my temper, though a sickening part of me hoped this was some grotesque joke.
Zane erupted into harsh, unhinged laughter, echoing like a madman drunk on power.
“Freya, I warned you a year ago: the moment your little masquerade collapsed, I would claim the alpha’s crown. The pack knows everything now, they know you’re nothing more than an ambitious fraud who tried to hijack Ryker’s rightful place,” Zane declared, every syllable landing like a physical blow.
The realization hit me with suffocating force. I had foolishly believed Zane was my shield, my family’s steadfast guardian. He had once been my father’s most loyal advisor. But the man before me was a stranger, a traitor who had orchestrated my banishment to a brutal alpha academy simply to clear his own path to the throne.
“You treacherous bastard, Zane!”
I knew instantly that my true identity had been leaked to the entire pack, and that Zane was the architect of this betrayal.
The man erupted into triumphant, mocking laughter, entirely intoxicated by his premature victory. But I had no intention of rolling over. Today, I would tear down his usurped authority and reclaim the alpha's seat that was rightfully mine.
It mattered little to me if the pack now knew that the heir who had been leading them was a woman. There was no ancient, binding law stating that an alpha had to be male—only an entrenched patriarchal tradition passed down by ancestors, a systemic bias I refused to accept as absolute.
Fueled by a white-hot surge of adrenaline, I shifted into my wolf form. Zane transformed just as my razor-sharp claws nearly sliced open his throat. We clashed in a brutal, bone-crushing duel that sent furniture splintering across the hall. Tactically speaking, Zane possessed years of veteran cunning, but tonight, my raw, unyielding rage made me stronger.
Cornered by my relentless assault, Zane crashed straight through the reinforced glass window, his bulky frame catapulting outward in a desperate bid to escape.
Our brawl had already drawn a crowd. Several pack members gasped aloud when a magnificent golden-furred wolf burst into view, a coat so rare it was restricted exclusively to the elite bloodlines of Alpha William, Alpha Leonor, myself, and Ryker. Even Oliver and Olivia, Alpha William’s twin offspring, had not been blessed with it.
According to pack lore, that radiant golden pelt belonged solely to the true, predestined ruler of the Sapphire Pack.
“Alpha Leonor only fathered one son, so where in the Goddess’s name did another golden wolf come from? Did he keep a secret bastard child?”
“I heard Freya broke her body seal and awakened her wolf form. Could that actually be her?”
Murmurs rippled through the onlookers as I surged forward in pursuit of Zane, but curse his cowardice—he had already melted into the shadows. By now, the news of my return had detonated across the territory.
“Seize the golden wolf! She’s the fraud who’s been masquerading as Ryker!” roared an unfamiliar omega. Though I didn’t recognize him, I had no doubt he was one of Zane’s hired lackeys.
They swarmed me from all sides. Despite fighting with every ounce of my strength, I was eventually overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Bound in humiliation, I was dragged out to the central execution post, where heavy silver-infused wire was wrapped cruelly around my frame.
Zane materialized from the pack, wearing a sickening grin of satisfaction as he looked down at my helpless form.
“As the reigning Alpha of the Sapphire Pack, I sentence this traitorous impostor who hid behind Ryker’s name to immediate execution!” Zane bellowed, pointing a finger straight at my chest.
I couldn’t even force words past my throat. The silver bindings hissed as they burned into my flesh; a single deep tear from the metal could poison my system and kill me within minutes.
“Are you out of your mind, Zane?” Wilson stepped forward, his voice cutting through the murmurs. “You were just a low-ranking beta yesterday, and now you crown yourself alpha? Where is the mandatory council with the Elders?”
My breath hitched. Wilson, half-paralyzed from a severe stroke, a former beta and still deeply respected Elder, was defending me—indirectly, at least. Even if he was merely upholding traditional protocol, it was enough. He wasn’t blindly bowing to Zane’s coup.
“You dare question my authority, Wilson?” Zane’s eyes narrowed into venomous slits. “The pack has already accepted me as alpha.”
“My point,” Wilson countered with unshakable dignity, “is that execution is a barbaric overreaction. She is Alpha Leonor’s only surviving daughter, and the granddaughter of the legendary Alpha William of Amberbridge. Have you completely forgotten his bloodline?”
His words sent a visible tremor through the assembly. Whispers of dissent rippled outward, the crowd's sympathy forming a fragile lifeline I desperately clung to.
“Just banish her from the territory!” someone shouted from the back.
“Yes! Exile is punishment enough if execution is too extreme.”
And just like that, I was cast out from the very lands I was destined to rule—a disgraceful fate for any true alpha. Yet, pride burned hotter than my wounds.
I was the true golden heir, fated to lead this pack, even if I had to do it as a woman wearing a mask.
Standing at the threshold of my home, I stepped past our borders into the cold wilderness, swearing a silent oath: I would return, and when I did, my power would be absolute.
“You have thirty seconds to clear out of this pack.”
One of Zane’s enforcers shoved me hard from behind, forcing my legs into motion. I stumbled down the narrow trail, moving away from the beating heart of the Sapphire Pack’s territory. Cast out like refuse, I was treated as something utterly loathsome in their eyes. Nearly the entire pack had turned out to witness my exile. Most of them jeered and hurled insults, while a few stood in heavy silence, a flicker of pity in their gazes. Yet, not a single soul dared to intervene; Zane would have executed anyone reckless enough to show me open mercy.
I glanced back once at the massive iron gate marking the outer boundary of the Sapphire Pack, knowing this would be my final look. Just last night, I had called this place home, and now I was being driven out, officially branded an outcast. By the time I crossed over into the neutral zone, a lawless tract claimed by no pack, the jeering escort had dissipated, turning back to their normal lives as if my existence had already been erased.
I had no destination in mind; I simply kept walking. Stray tears occasionally slipped down my cheeks, but I lacked the emotional energy left to properly mourn my fate. The only thing I had to hold onto was the bitter, fragile comfort of drawing breath.
When I eventually stumbled out into a bustling thoroughfare, I realized I had reached a traditional trading square. Commerce here still clung to old-school customs, with cash changing hands directly. Wealthy merchants flaunted overflowing stalls and commanded dozens, sometimes hundreds, of laborers. Yet, right alongside them, desperate vagrants not unlike myself scavenged through refuse heaps for scraps of discarded food.
Even so, I swore I would never stoop to begging. That was one line I refused to cross.
An old, creaking wooden cart rumbled past me, loaded high with enormous baskets brimming with fresh apples. I didn’t hesitate. In a split second, I darted toward one of the handlers.
“Can I help unload? I don’t want money, just an apple,” I pleaded, locking eyes with the man in charge. He gave me a brief, pragmatic nod. Just like that, my day was salvaged by a single apple, earned through heavy labor hauling crates across the marketplace.
I was right in the middle of taking a bite when my gaze locked onto a familiar silhouette in the crowd. The face was so achingly recognizable, so devastatingly striking, that the air left my lungs entirely. The apple froze halfway to my teeth.
“Fheraen?!” His name slipped past my lips in a shaky, breathless whisper.
Six months had passed since I had last laid eyes on him, and now, as if summoned by cruel fate, he was standing right here. Yet he strode forward with a swift, purposeful gait, his eyes fixed straight ahead without sparing me a single glance. Of course he wouldn’t recognize me. I wasn’t hiding behind my old disguises anymore.
I shoved frantically through the dense crowd in a desperate pursuit, but within seconds, he had melted into the throng and vanished. Frustration crushed my chest, and I muttered a bitter curse under my breath.
“Taken a liking to that guy?”
The abrupt voice made me jump. A scrawny kid, slightly shorter than me, stood nearby, his sharp eyes glinting with mischief. I gave a hesitant nod, realizing he must have caught my intense reaction when Fheraen walked by.
“The son of the Ruby Line Pack’s Alpha drops by here pretty often,” the boy remarked casually. “If you’re lucky, you might spot him again tomorrow.”
“Are you serious?” I asked, surprise and a sudden spark of hope colliding in my chest. “What’s your name?”
“Nichole,” the kid replied shortly.
“Nicholas?” I guessed, assuming his name was just shortened.
“Not Nicholas. Nichole. People have called me that since I was in diapers,” he corrected with a stubborn flick of his chin.
“Alright, Nichole.” I managed a thin smile before dragging the conversation back to what mattered.
“You actually know the Alpha’s son from the Ruby Line Pack?”
“Not personally, no. I just know who he is, and honestly, so does everyone around here. He’s hard to miss,” Nichole explained, shrugging.
“Then tell me,” I whispered urgently, “if he comes here again tomorrow.”
“Just one bite of that apple,” Nichole said, pointing straight at my right hand.
Without hesitation, I handed over the hard-earned remainder of my fruit to the boy. Nichole darted off, already sinking his teeth into it. I let out a slow, relieved breath, my hopes suddenly soaring at the thought of finding Fheraen tomorrow. Cast out from the pack I was once destined to lead, I had learned to survive by clinging to the smallest crumbs of hope.
That night, I slept on a cold patch of pavement after being chased away from a storefront—a miserable step down from the austere Alpha academy dorms, which were already lightyears worse than my old bedroom back at the mansion. Even so, I drifted off easily, sustained by a single purpose: I was going to find Fheraen tomorrow.
At dawn, I stuck close to Nichole. He knew the layout and the rhythms of the marketplace far better than I did, especially when and where Fheraen usually arrived. Sure enough, a sleek luxury vehicle pulled up, and Fheraen stepped out entirely unescorted. He was standing only a few feet away.
“Fheraen!” I called out. For a brief second, he flicked his gaze left and right, but naturally, he didn't recognize me. To him, I had only ever existed behind the mask of *Ryker*. Still, a foolish part of me hoped my voice might ring a bell. He didn't break stride, though, clearly unwilling to stop for a stranger calling his name, and kept walking with sharp, purposeful steps.
“Go after him! Why are you just standing there frozen?!” Nichole hissed, his voice sharp with frustration.
I sprinted straight through the dense market crowds, shoving past vendors and shoppers in the middle of bartering. More than a few cursed at me for jostling their displays, but my eyes remained locked on the tall, striking figure ahead. I had to reach him.
“Wait!” I shouted, lunging forward until the tips of my fingers finally brushed his right shoulder. He spun around, catching me as I doubled over, gasping for air.
“Who the hell are you?” Fheraen frowned, his eyes narrowing as they cut into me. There was something different about him now, a sharper, colder edge than I remembered.
“I... you know me as Ryker,” I stammered out, forced to use the only card I had.
He furrowed his brow, utter confusion washing over his face. “Ryker? Are you out of your mind?” Fheraen let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “He died a year ago,” he muttered, clicking his tongue in irritation.
The words hit me like physical impact, but a strange warmth bloomed in my chest nonetheless—so Fheraen already knew. A fragile happiness stirred inside me; surely, if he knew that much, he also knew who the person behind the Ryker mask really was at the academy.
“I’m glad you know the truth, Fheraen,” I murmured softly.
He drew in a heavy, exasperated breath, his shoulders tightening under the weight of my words. “I’m not Fheraen,” he stated flatly.
My eyes widened in horror. “I had made a mistake.”
The boy standing right in front of me wasn't Fheraen at all—he was his identical twin.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, blood rushing to my ears.
“Relax. Our faces are carbon copies,” he sighed, trying to ease the tension. “Just stop tracking me down and chasing me through the streets. If it’s Fheraen you’re actually looking for, I’ll let this slide this one time,” he added, his voice dropping to a low warning.
I nodded mutely, standing there like an absolute idiot as the boy, who was, in reality, Dherael, turned and continued on his way. Nichole had mentioned that the Ruby Line Pack’s Alpha’s son frequented this market, so I had simply assumed he enjoyed the commotion. I already knew Dherael was the designated heir to his father’s title, yet it was striking how unassuming his clothes were, even if his posture and frigid tone were far harsher than Fheraen’s ever were.
“Why on earth did you just let him walk away after whining at me to find him?!” Nichole stormed up to me, having apparently watched the whole disaster unfold from the sidelines.
“I had the wrong person,” I muttered, staring at the ground.
“The wrong person?” Nichole scowled, his face twisted in utter annoyance.
“Yes. The guy I’m actually looking for is his twin,” I groaned, running both hands aggressively through my hair.
“Well, you could have just asked him to take you to his twin, you idiot!” Nichole snapped, throwing his hands up.
I froze. Nichole was entirely right, and I felt like a fool. I should have swallowed my pride and begged Dherael to bring me straight to the Ruby Line Pack.
Instead, I had stood there like a deer in headlights, staring at a face that wasn't even the one I loved. Dherael possessed a completely different aura anyway—far sharper, heavier, and undeniably more dangerous than Fheraen's.
