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

"You tampered with that moon-witness recording, didn't you? Your name is Ravenhart, and so is his? You two are working together to steal my uncle's territory and succession rights!"

Dorian Ravenhart's expression shifted, but he maintained his composure. "Young Stormshadow, I understand your distress, but this was Alpha Fenris's own decision. If you harbor doubts about its validity, I suggest you petition the Pack Tribunal or request an Elder Inquiry. Violence will resolve nothing."

I released my grip on him and immediately sent word to the Pack Enforcers.

When the Tribunal Sentinels arrived, they examined the moon-witness recording with their truth-scrying abilities. They confirmed the recording was authentic—no splicing, no illusion-craft, no manipulation of any kind.

Furthermore, their investigation revealed that Dorian Ravenhart shared no blood-bond with Alaric Ravenhart whatsoever.

The two had never even crossed paths before. Today marked their first meeting.

My mind went blank.

Where had everything gone wrong?

My uncle had sealed his blood-oath will just one moon-cycle before his death. How could he have suddenly changed his intentions?

The lead Sentinel looked at my stubborn, disbelieving face and spoke in a tone that was half lecture, half mockery:

"Young wolf, perhaps look within yourself for answers. You must have failed in your duties to him. Whether it's your uncle or your own sire—if an Alpha is displeased with his heir, it's his right to bestow his territory and succession upon whomever he chooses."

A crack split through my thoughts like lightning.

My own sire?

I turned sharply toward Alaric Ravenhart, and a terrifying possibility began to take root in my mind.

I was forcibly removed from the estate I had called home for over twenty years.

As they escorted me out, I slipped away unnoticed with something Alaric had left behind—the remnants of a blood-herb pipe he'd been smoking.

The moment I passed through the territory gates, I rushed to the Healer's Hall and retrieved the blood sample my uncle had stored there. Then I went straight to the Bloodline Verification Chamber.

The wait for results stretched my nerves to breaking.

My uncle had lived his entire life with honor and restraint. Despite controlling vast territories and tribute networks, he never indulged in excess.

Apart from necessary pack gatherings and alliance meetings, he lived more austerely than a temple monk.

I racked my brain, but I couldn't imagine—didn't dare imagine—that he might have a hidden offspring.

Yet if that wasn't the case, how else could I explain why he'd rewritten his blood-oath will to name Alaric Ravenhart as heir?

After an agonizing wait, the results finally came.

The moment I saw them, my entire body turned to stone.

"No biological bloodline connection detected."

Those words pierced through me like silver-tipped blades driven straight into my heart.

My uncle had truly given away everything he'd spent his lifetime building—his vast territory, his tribute networks, his entire legacy—to a complete stranger with no blood-tie to our line?

I couldn't understand it. I truly couldn't.

Did this stranger hold some secret over my uncle? Some leverage?

But the Tribunal Sentinels had said during their inquiry that Alaric Ravenhart was merely a low-ranking member of some insignificant pack. What possible hold could such a wolf have over an Alpha of my uncle's standing?

Unless... they shared that kind of bond?

Considering my uncle's complete disinterest in taking a mate, the possibility suddenly didn't seem so impossible.

The thought nearly struck me dead where I stood.

My mind churned in chaos.

Was I supposed to simply watch as the territory that should have been mine passed into a stranger's hands?

Let my uncle's life's work be devoured by someone with no rightful claim?

I stood frozen for a long while before finally pulling out my communication stone to contact a rogue tracker I knew.

"I need you to investigate someone named Alaric Ravenhart. Go back three generations. From his birth to now—everyone he's met, every tribute he's received or given, every territory he's crossed through. Leave nothing out. The more detailed, the better. And make it fast."

After severing the connection, I sought lodging at a well-appointed traveler's den. When I tried to access my pack credit-marks, the keeper's face went cold.

"Your marks have been frozen, young wolf. I cannot honor them."

The words echoed through the empty hall like a death knell.

Only then did I remember—all my resources flowed through my uncle's authority. Now that everything had passed to Alaric Ravenhart, he would have moved immediately to cut me off.

I had no choice but to return to the small, warded hideout my grandmother Mara had left to my mother.

I had only a few silver pieces remaining in my pouch. Forget next season's training fees at the Academy—I could barely guarantee my next meal.