Heir to the Alpha Book 4: New Era of Wolves

The air in the Council chamber always felt heavy, even when I was a kid—laden with decisions that could change lives. Today, though, it pressed down harder, as if the room itself knew something I didn’t.

My parents had been quiet the whole trip, their faces drawn. The helicopter’s roar had made conversation nearly impossible. My father gripped the armrest like the slightest turbulence might send us crashing, while my mother’s sharp gaze stayed fixed on the horizon as if searching for answers only she could see.

Caroline sat beside me, staring out the window, her fingers absently twisting the hem of her jacket. It wasn’t like her to fidget, to seem unsure.

“We’re almost there,” my father said, his voice tight.

I nodded but stayed silent. This meeting was supposed to be about me—about stepping into my role as alpha. But the closer we got, the more I felt like I was being led into something else entirely.

When we arrived, the weight of the Council chamber hit me immediately. The circular room was massive, its stone walls amplifying every sound. At the center was a raised dais where the elders sat, their faces weathered but sharp.

Rows of seats encircled them, filled with alphas, lunas, and betas from every pack in the region. My stomach tightened. This wasn’t a private discussion about my new role. This was a gathering of power—every leader summoned for a reason no one had bothered to explain.

“Why are they all here?” I whispered to Caroline as we took our seats.

Aurora wasn’t with me; she stayed back to take care of John. He was too young for a trip like this, and I trusted her to keep everything at home under control. But still, I’d been checking my watch and texting her every chance I got, needing constant reassurance that she, John, and the pack were okay.

Caroline, always confident, now looked uneasy. “I don’t know.”

Kevin sat on my other side, silent but watchful. As my beta and best friend, he’d always been my anchor. Behind us, my parents took their seats. Even though they’d stepped down as alphas, I knew it was hard for them to let go, especially with so much at stake.

The room settled into an uneasy silence as the eldest Council member, Simon, a wiry man with piercing gray eyes, stood. His voice carried the kind of authority that made even the strongest wolves bow their heads.

“It’s been a year since the kidnapping, and we are grateful that the heirs have returned to their rightful places,” he began, his tone somber. “But their abduction was no random act. It was a signal—a reminder of what lies hidden in the shadows of our kind.”

My stomach twisted, and a cold knot formed.

“And we found out,” he continued, “a prophecy. Of wolves who walk unburned by silver. A bloodline so rare, so powerful, it could reshape the fate of the pack.”

What the hell? A prophecy? Again?

My heart pounded. Wolves unburned by silver—me and Caroline.

A murmur rippled through the room. Beside me, my father stiffened, his jaw clenching.

“These wolves,” Simon said, his gaze sweeping across us, “are not just a story. They are real. And we believe they are among us.”

I froze. My breath caught, my fists clenched, and I fought the instinct to glance at Caroline, or Kevin, or anyone who might give me away. They couldn’t know. Could they?

Simon’s eyes narrowed. “Do any here know of such wolves?”

Silence. Thick and suffocating. My wolf stirred uneasily, clawing at the edge of my mind.

“This is absurd,” growled Brad Hasendolf, an alpha from the eastern packs. “If these wolves existed, we would know. They’d be sitting here, not skulking in legends.”

“Or hiding,” Brennon countered coldly. “Because they know what we’d do to them.”

The murmurs grew louder, voices rising with tension until Simon raised his hand. “Enough. This is not a debate. This is a warning. If these wolves exist, they must be found. Their bloodline is the key to our survival—or our destruction.”

The room blurred. My pulse roared in my ears.

They couldn’t mean me. It wasn’t like I’d asked for this…this immunity. It had just happened—a twist of fate, a secret we’d kept because we had to.

But now, it wasn’t just my secret. It was Caroline’s too.

I forced myself to sit still, to keep my face calm. I couldn’t let anyone see the storm raging inside me.

Simon’s gaze swept the room one last time, pausing on me for a fraction of a second too long.

I held my breath.

The meeting dragged on, but I could barely focus. The prophecy wasn’t just a story—it was my life. And now, it wasn’t just me I had to protect. It was Caroline, Aurora, and John.

They would never stop looking.

The room was quiet, save for the muffled voices filtering through the heavy door. The Council meeting continued in the chamber beyond, but here, in the temporary apartment the Council had given us, the tension was unbearable.

My father paced near the window, his boots thudding against the hardwood floor in an unrelenting rhythm. Moonlight outlined his silhouette, sharp and tense, as he stared out into the moonlit courtyard below.

“We need to talk about this,” he said abruptly, his voice tight.

My mother sat perched on the edge of the couch, her fingers laced together so tightly her knuckles turned white. Caroline sat beside me, her hands twisting in her lap, a nervous habit she’d never quite shaken.

Kevin leaned back in his chair, calm as ever, but his sharp gaze darted between us, taking in every word.

“We’ve already talked about it,” Kevin said, his tone level. “Nobody outside of us knows.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Dad snapped, turning on him. “The Council knows something. Enough to ask questions. How long until they figure it out? How long until someone decides Caroline—or Anthony—is a threat?”

His words felt like a slap, each syllable cutting deeper than the last.

“I’m not worried about me,” I said, straightening in my seat.

Dad’s glare was sharp, but I pushed on. “I’m alpha now. I can handle whatever they throw at me. But Caroline?” My voice wavered, and I hated how raw it sounded. “She didn’t ask for this. None of us did. And what about John?”

The room went silent.

I hadn’t meant to bring up my son, but the thought had been gnawing at me ever since the Council brought up the prophecy. If silver immunity could be passed through blood…could John have inherited it?

“Anthony…,” Mom began, her voice soft, tentative.

I shook my head, my chest tight.

“What if he has it? What if John’s blood is like Caroline’s—like mine? He’s a baby. He wouldn’t even understand what it means, let alone how to protect himself.”

Caroline shifted beside me, her fingers tangling in her lap.

“Anthony, we don’t even know if it works like that,” she said, her voice steady but unsure. “I mean, it came to me because of Mom—because of what happened to Violet. And you only got it because of the transfusion. It’s not like it’s…hereditary.”

Her words were meant to reassure me, but they didn’t. Not really.

“And what if it is?” I pressed, my voice sharper than I intended. “What if he’s carrying something we don’t understand? What if this…prophecy is about him too? About all of us?”

Kevin leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“If he is, you’ll protect him. That’s all there is to it.”

The simplicity of his words caught me off guard. Kevin had always been the steady one, the calm center in every storm.

But this wasn’t just about protecting John—it was about the unknown. About the fact that we didn’t even know what we were protecting him from.

“Kevin’s right,” Dad said, his voice edged with steel. “We don’t know what’s going on yet. But until we do, we keep this within the family. No one else can know. No one.”

His gaze swept over Caroline, Kevin, and me, lingering on each of us as if willing us to understand the gravity of his words.

“You’ve already done your part to keep Anthony’s immunity a secret,” he continued, addressing Kevin. “But we can’t let our guard down now.”

Mom nodded, her expression fierce but weary.

“This isn’t just about the prophecy. If word gets out, there will be wolves—packs—who see this as a threat. Or worse, as an opportunity. Anthony, Caroline, you’re both targets whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t care about being a target,” I said, my jaw tightening. “What I care about is making sure Caroline and John are safe.”

Caroline reached over, her hand resting on mine.

“I can take care of myself.”

I met her gaze, seeing the determination in her blue eyes. It was the same look she’d always given me when we were kids, when she shielded me from everything or helped me clean up after one of my impulsive mistakes.

Caroline had always been strong, my protector, my older sister who calmed my storms.

“I know you can,” I said softly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop worrying about you.”

She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“We’ll figure this out,” Mom said, rising to stand beside Dad. “We’ll start looking into the prophecy—into who might know about it and why it’s being brought up now. But until then, we stay quiet. We stay united.”

Dad nodded.

“This family has been through too much already. We’ll protect each other, like we always have.”

The helicopter ride back was quiet, the tension from our conversation still thick in the air.

When the pack house came into view, its familiar shape outlined against the dark sky, I felt a fleeting sense of calm. But even as the gates opened and the guards waved us through, my thoughts were somewhere else.

Aurora.

Her green eyes flashed in my mind, the way they softened when she held John. Her quiet strength had always steadied me, no matter the storm.

I’d been gone less than a day, but the weight of her absence gnawed at me.

And then there was John.

Three months old and so small, his presence was both my greatest joy and my greatest fear.

Every time I held him, I couldn’t stop thinking: How do I keep this tiny life safe in a world that wants to tear him apart?

The scent of lavender and pine greeted me as I stepped inside, wrapping around me like a balm.

Aurora was in the living room, rocking John in her arms, her eyes half-closed as she hummed softly.

For a moment, I just watched them—the two people who anchored me to this world.

My heart felt like it was going to explode from love just for having them.

She opened her eyes and smiled when she saw me.

“You’re back.”

I leaned down to kiss her, careful not to wake John.

“I missed you.” I meant every word.

She chuckled softly.

“You were gone for one day.”

“One day too long,” I murmured, kissing the top of her head while she was still holding John.

Aurora shifted John to his crib, her movements careful and practiced.

I stayed silent, struggling with the weight of everything I’d just learned. I couldn’t tell her everything, not yet, but as my soulmate, she could tell something was off.

“You’re quiet,” she said, her eyes searching mine. “What happened at the Council meeting?”

I hesitated.

“It’s…complicated.”

Her hand found mine, fingers threading together.

“Tell me.”

I sighed. I couldn’t hold this just for myself; I didn’t want her to worry, but it was bigger than us, it wasn’t me just telling this to my mate; it was me, alpha, telling this to my luna.

“They brought up silver immunity,” I said finally. “The Council is asking questions. They know it exists, and they’re trying to figure out who has it.”

Aurora’s grip tightened.

“And they don’t know about you?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

Her expression darkened.

“They’re afraid of you.”

“They’re afraid of what I might mean,” I corrected. “And it’s not just me. If they find out about Caroline—or John—”

Her hand flew to her mouth.

“Anthony, do you think…?”

Just the thought of it made my stomach twist.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But if he inherited it, we need to be prepared. For whatever comes next.”

Aurora exhaled slowly, her eyes distant.

“We’ll protect him.” Her voice was broken and raw as if she was trying to reassure herself more than me.

“I’d burn the world to keep him safe,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Aurora looked at me then, her gaze steady and fierce.

“We will.”