Queen Rebukes Rejected Alpha

The treatment room door opened, revealing Elder Elara's slender figure. Her silver-streaked hair was pulled back in a neat braid, and her wise eyes quickly assessed the situation—both my feverish son and the tense standoff with the Silverpine wolves.

"My Queen," she said, her voice carrying the quiet authority of decades as Pack Healer. "Please, bring Prince Lucas this way."

I felt Brandon's shock ripple through the air at her formal address. The title wasn't for show—it was my reality now, though I rarely stood on ceremony within our pack.

"Thank you, Elder," I replied, following her into the examination room while maintaining my composure.

As the door closed behind us, I finally allowed my shoulders to drop slightly. "His fever came on so suddenly," I explained, gently laying Lucas on the examination table. "He was fine at breakfast, then burning up by mid-morning."

Elder Elara smiled reassuringly. "Let me see our little prince." Her hands moved with practiced efficiency, checking his temperature, examining his throat, listening to his chest. Lucas whimpered softly but remained still, trusting the elder's gentle touch.

"A simple wolf-pup fever," she announced after a few minutes. "Common in strong bloodlines, especially royal ones. His body is adjusting to the power in his blood."

She reached for a small vial of clear liquid. "This will bring the fever down within the hour. He'll be running through the forests again by tomorrow."

As she administered the medicine, the door burst open without warning. Brandon stood in the doorway, Amanda hovering behind him.

"I demand to know what's happening," he growled. "That boy carries my bloodline. I can smell it."

Elder Elara straightened to her full height, her eyes flashing with indignation. "Alpha Walsh, this is a treatment room, not a public forum. And you are mistaken about the child."

She placed a protective hand on Lucas's head. "I have been Healer to three generations of Lycan royalty. I know the scent of royal blood." Her voice carried the weight of absolute certainty. "This child's recovery rate alone confirms it. Prince Lucas carries the pure bloodline of the Lycan King—his father, Alexander Blackwood."

She turned to me, bowing her head slightly. "My Queen, I'll prepare additional medicine for you to take home."

Brandon's face contorted with disbelief and rage. His eyes darted between Lucas and me, calculations visibly running behind his eyes.

"Impossible," he spat. "Lycan royalty? You were nothing—a weak, late-blooming wolf without a pack." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "What did you do, Sophia? What tricks did you use to seduce a Lycan?"

Before I could respond, Brandon moved with Alpha speed to Lucas's side. I tensed, ready to attack, but he merely leaned over my son, inhaling deeply. Then, to my horror, he ran his wrist along the edge of the examination table, deliberately leaving his scent around my child.

"Stop that immediately," I commanded, my Queen's aura flaring.

"He should have been mine," Brandon hissed. "A son this powerful—you were carrying my heir all along."

"Step away from my son," I warned, Diana howling with protective fury inside me.

Amanda's bitter laugh cut through the tension. "Still delusional, Sophia. Brandon's right—you must have tricked some poor Alpha and are now playing pretend Queen."

Suddenly, the entire medical center fell silent. A pressure like the approach of a thunderstorm rolled through the building. The sensation was unmistakable—a Lycan King's aura, powerful enough to make even the strongest Alphas submit.

Heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway. Brandon's face paled as the overwhelming presence drew closer. Even Amanda's mocking expression faltered, her wolf instinctively recognizing a predator far beyond her comprehension.

The door swung open fully, revealing Alexander's imposing figure. His amber eyes glowed with barely contained fury, his six-foot-four frame filling the doorway. His Lycan King aura crashed against Brandon and Amanda like a physical force, causing them both to involuntarily bare their necks in primal submission.

"I believe," Alexander said, his deep voice deceptively soft, "you're scent-marking my son."