DRAKE POV
Drake stood at the window of his office and felt invincible.
Nine years. That's how long he'd controlled the Blackstone Pack without question. Nine years of making decisions that broke people. Nine years of showing no weakness, no mercy, no emotion. Nine years of being the strongest thing in any room.
The city of Portland sprawled below his office window. Pack territory stretched beyond it, into the mountains and forests where his wolves ran. Hundreds of warriors answered to him. Thousands of lives depended on his strength. He'd built this empire from nothing. No one challenged him. No one even thought about it.
That was power.
Drake turned from the window and moved back to his desk where James and two senior warriors were waiting. They'd been discussing border security. Some rival pack had been sniffing around their territory. Probably Marcus Vale from the Crimson Pack again. Always wanting what didn't belong to him.
"Increase patrols on the eastern border," Drake said, sitting down. His voice was ice. "Double shifts for the next two weeks. If they cross the line, we crush them before they can breathe."
James nodded. He was used to this version of Drake. Cold. Efficient. Impossible to rattle.
The warriors looked at each other like they were wondering if Drake was serious about crushing an entire rival pack. He was. But they didn't need to know that yet.
Drake rubbed his temple. He hadn't slept much. Again. His nightmares had been bad last night. Dreams about his uncle's face when Drake had challenged him. Dreams about the blood on his hands when he won. Dreams about the weight of leadership crushing him slowly.
He pushed the dreams away.
That was weakness and he didn't do weakness.
"Sir," one of the warriors started to say something, but Drake cut him off.
"We're done here."
They filed out quickly. Only James stayed, closing the door behind him. James had been with Drake since Drake took power at twenty-two years old. He was one of the few people who could look at Drake without fear.
"You need to sleep," James said.
"I sleep fine," Drake lied.
James didn't argue. He just opened his mouth to say something else when Drake felt it.
A pain.
Not sharp. Not sudden. It was more like something inside his body woke up and started tearing him apart from the inside out.
Drake's hand went to his chest. His vision blurred like someone had poured water on a window.
"Drake?" James stood up, concerned.
Another wave of pain, worse this time. Drake gasped for air but his lungs wouldn't work right. His heart was pounding so fast he thought it might explode. Dark lines started spreading across his skin like poison, moving under the surface like they were alive.
Drake looked down at his chest in horror.
Veins. Dark veins moving across his skin like something was crawling through his blood.
"What the hell," Drake whispered.
Then everything went wrong.
His entire body seized up. His muscles contracted so hard he thought his bones would break. He collapsed hard on the floor, his head slamming against the wood. Pain exploded through him, worse than any fight, worse than any wound he'd ever taken in combat.
"Drake!" James was shouting, running toward him. "Drake, can you hear me?"
Drake couldn't answer. His body was convulsing, shaking uncontrollably. The dark veins spread across his arms now, his legs, his entire body turning into a map of poison. Something was moving through his blood, something ancient and angry and determined to kill him.
This wasn't a normal sickness. Drake had survived wounds that would kill most people. But this was different. This felt intentional. Purposeful.
Someone did this to him.
"Get the healers!" James was shouting at the warriors in the hallway. "Move! Get every healer we have! Now!"
Drake's vision was getting dark around the edges. His strength was draining out of him like water pouring through broken fingers. He was the Alpha. He was the strongest warrior in the pack. He'd never lost a fight. He'd never been weak.
And now he couldn't move.
His body continued convulsing on the cold floor of his office. The pain was everywhere, in every nerve, every bone, every breath. It felt like something inside him was eating him alive from the inside out.
James was kneeling next to him, his face pale with panic. "Stay with me. The healers are coming. Just stay with me."
But Drake could feel it. He could feel his power draining away. He could feel his strength leaving his body like his life was bleeding out. His heartbeat was getting weaker. His breathing was getting slower.
He was dying.
The thought hit him like a physical blow. Harder than the pain. Harder than the curse moving through his blood.
He was actually dying.
In thirty-one years, Drake had never been afraid of anything. He'd learned young that fear was a luxury he couldn't afford. Being Alpha meant making hard choices. Killing his own uncle. Turning off emotion. Becoming something cold and untouchable.
But lying on the floor of his own office, his body failing, his strength gone, Drake felt fear like he'd never felt it before.
This wasn't how the strongest Alpha in the pack was supposed to go. This wasn't how the man everyone feared was supposed to die.
His vision faded to black at the edges.
The last thing he heard was James shouting orders to bring him to the healing chamber. Shouting for more healers. Shouting like the Alpha might actually be losing.
Then nothing.
Drake's eyes opened.
Everything hurt. His entire body was on fire. But underneath the pain, there was something else. Something that felt like his consciousness was trying to claw its way back to the surface.
His eyes were heavy. His vision was blurry. He could barely keep his eyes open but he pushed, fighting to see where he was.
The healing chamber. He could recognize the stone walls and the soft magical glow from the healing stones embedded in the walls. His body was on a healing table. His shirt was gone. He could see the dark veins still spreading across his chest like poison that wouldn't go away.
He tried to move and pain ripped through him so bad that he gasped.
A face appeared above him.
Drake's breath caught.
His father.
Victor Ashford looked down at his son with an expression Drake had never seen before. Not concern. Not fear. Something else. Something darker.
Satisfaction.
Victory looked at Drake like he was watching everything he'd waited for finally come true. Like watching his son dying on a healing table was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.
"Hello, son," Victor said softly. "Looks like your time at the top is over."
Drake's mind was still foggy from pain and whatever curse was eating through his blood, but understanding crashed down on him like ice water.
This wasn't random.
This wasn't accident.
His father had been waiting for this moment for nine years. Waiting for Drake to get weak. Waiting for Drake to fail. And now that it was finally happening, Victor looked like he might actually smile.
Victor reached out and placed his hand on Drake's chest, right over the dark veins. His voice was cold when he spoke.
"The pack will need a new Alpha soon. Someone strong. Someone willing to make the hard choices." Victor's eyes glinted with something cruel. "I've been training for this. Waiting for this. And now I'm finally going to take back what's mine."
Victor turned to leave, his footsteps echoing through the chamber.
Drake tried to call after him but his voice wouldn't work. He tried to grab his father but his arms wouldn't obey him. He was helpless. Weak. Dying.
And worst of all, Victor knew it.
The door to the healing chamber closed and Drake realized the terrifying truth. The curse wasn't just a curse. It was part of something bigger. Something his father had been planning for years. Something that was going to tear the pack apart while Drake lay here dying.
And the only thing Drake could do was wait.
Wait to see if anyone could save him before his father took control of everything.