THE ALPHA KING REJECTED HIS OMEGA MATE IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE KINGDOM—HE NEVER EXPECTED HER BLOODLINE TO AWAKEN

THE OMEGA THEY THREW AWAY BECAME THE WHITE QUEEN—AND THE ALPHA KING CAME WITH 5,000 WARRIORS TO DESTROY HER

The night Isold’s ancient bloodline awakened, everything changed.

The woman everyone had called a weak Omega was revealed to be descended from the first sovereigns of the werewolf race—the original rulers who had protected their people centuries before the Montgomery dynasty ever existed.

Her white Lykan form stood more than seven feet at the shoulder.

Her fur shimmered like moonlight.

Her violet eyes carried a power that could force even the strongest Alpha to his knees.

And she discovered something even more astonishing.

The rogues who had once been considered mindless beasts were not truly feral.

They had simply been waiting for an Alpha powerful enough to anchor them.

They chose Isold.

Within weeks, wolves from across the kingdom began abandoning oppressive packs and traveling to the Drossen Valley.

Omegas who had been abused.

Warriors who had lost faith in their rulers.

Rogues who had been rejected by society.

They all came to Isold.

Under the command of Kalin, a legendary former royal warrior, they became the Violet Vanguard.

And the cursed Drossen Valley transformed.

The poisonous fog disappeared.

The frozen ground became fertile.

Crops flourished.

Isold healed the sick and settled disputes without fear or cruelty.

She did not rule through violence.

She ruled through strength tempered by compassion.

Meanwhile, Windermir Keep was collapsing.

King Tristan had become a shadow of the conqueror he once was.

Ever since rejecting his true mate, his inner wolf had been tormented by a constant emptiness. He barely slept, and whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered Isold’s scent of rainwashed pine and amber.

Genevieve, meanwhile, ruled through fear.

She drained the treasury on lavish clothes and banquets while the outer provinces starved. Anyone who challenged her authority was publicly punished.

Then came the report that changed everything.

A mysterious White Sovereign was gathering an army in the Drossen Valley.

Genevieve was terrified.

“We must destroy them before they attack the crown!” she demanded.

Tristan stared into the fire.

“The Drossen Valley…”

A memory surfaced.

“Isold was sent there.”

Genevieve immediately insisted that Isold had died months ago.

But something inside Tristan’s wolf told him otherwise.

Genevieve’s father controlled thousands of northern warriors, so Tristan finally agreed to march.

Five thousand royal soldiers rode east.

For three days they crossed the frozen mountains until they reached the ridge overlooking Drossen Valley.

Tristan expected to see a miserable settlement filled with starving rogues.

Instead, his entire army stopped in stunned silence.

Below them stood a magnificent fortress of white stone and black obsidian.

The valley was green despite the winter.

A shimmering dome of ancient magic protected the land.

And outside the fortress stood 3,000 perfectly disciplined warriors wearing silver and dark steel armor.

Their shields carried a symbol unseen for a thousand years:

A howling wolf beneath a glowing crescent moon.

Then the wind changed.

Tristan smelled something he had spent months trying to forget.

Rainwashed pine.

Sweet amber.

But now the scent carried something else.

Power.

Ancient authority.

His horse suddenly reared beneath him.

From the center of the opposing army, the warriors parted.

A woman rode forward on a magnificent white stag.

She wore a flowing violet gown.

Her silver-white hair moved in the wind.

And her violet eyes seemed to burn through the entire royal army.

Tristan’s face went pale.

“Isold…”

Genevieve’s expression collapsed.

“No.”

Isold stopped fifty yards from the royal army.

She looked at Tristan without fear.

“King Tristan Montgomery,” she called, her voice no longer soft or uncertain. “You stand upon the sovereign territory of House Fairchild.”

Genevieve screamed.

“She is an Omega pretending to be a queen! Attack her!”

But no soldier moved.

Then Kalin stepped forward carrying an ancient leatherbound journal.

“This,” he announced, “belonged to Lord Archerald Croft.”

Genevieve froze.

Kalin opened the journal.

The pages contained a confession written in the hand of Genevieve’s own father.

Centuries earlier, the Croft family had used forbidden blood magic to suppress the true Fairchild bloodline.

They had poisoned the first sovereigns and magically bound their descendants, forcing them into the lowest rank of society.

The Fairchilds were never Omegas.

They had been royals in hiding.

And the Crofts had stolen their throne.

Tristan slowly turned toward Genevieve.

“Is this true?”

She said nothing.

Her silence was enough.

Suddenly, Genevieve drew a silver dagger and lunged toward Isold.

Tristan reacted instinctively, knocking the weapon from her hand and throwing her from her horse.

He stared at Isold in horror.

Everything finally made sense.

He had rejected his true mate.

He had crowned the daughter of the family that had enslaved hers.

He had abandoned the rightful queen.

Tristan climbed down from his horse and fell to his knees in the mud.

“Isold…”

Tears streamed down his face.

“I was deceived. I was a fool.”

He crawled forward.

“The throne belonged to you all along. You are my Luna. My true queen. I will give you everything. Please… forgive me.”

Isold looked at him.

Once, she would have given anything to hear those words.

Now they meant nothing.

“The bond?” Tristan pleaded. “It can be mended.”

Isold stepped from her stag.

“Can it?”

A blinding flash of white light erupted around her.

She shifted.

The legendary Lykan emerged.

Seven feet of shimmering white fur.

Violet eyes glowing like ancient stars.

The ground cracked beneath her paws.

Then her aura exploded outward.

Five thousand royal warriors were slammed into the frozen earth.

Armor crashed into mud.

Weapons scattered.

Even Tristan was forced flat beneath the overwhelming power of the true sovereign.

Every wolf in the army began whimpering in submission.

Isold approached Tristan until her enormous head hovered inches above his face.

Then she spoke directly into the minds of every wolf present.

“The Moon Goddess often tests us with trials of the flesh.”

Tristan’s eyes widened.

Those were his own words.

The cruel words he had once used to justify rejecting her.

“She paired my ancient soul with a weak, cowardly fool to test my capacity for mercy.”

Tristan’s heart broke.

“But I am a sovereign queen.”

Her violet eyes burned brighter.

“I cannot tether my immortal dynasty to weakness.”

Then came the words that destroyed him completely.

“I, Queen of House Fairchild, officially and permanently reject you, Tristan Montgomery.”

The entire army heard her declaration.

“You will return to your crumbling stone keep with your traitorous bride. You will never set foot in the East again.”

She turned away.

“And you will spend the rest of your short reign knowing that the true kingdom—and the true power—belong to me.”

Isold walked back toward her fortress.

The White Queen did not look back.

Behind her, five thousand warriors remained trapped in the mud.

Tristan could only stare after the woman he had once called a weak Omega.

The woman he had believed was beneath him.

The woman who had loved him when he possessed nothing but ambition.

Now she possessed everything he had ever wanted.

A kingdom.

An army.

A legendary bloodline.

And the loyalty of thousands.

Most importantly, she no longer needed him.

Tristan remained in the mud long after the army was released, clutching the empty place in his chest where their bond had once existed.

He had sacrificed his soulmate for a crown.

Only to discover that the crown had never truly belonged to him.

The woman he rejected had become the queen he could never reach.

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