Alpha King Damon – POV
The cold morning air bit at the skin of the living.
Not that I noticed.
I stood atop the steps of the pack house—the same place Kane once addressed this pathetic excuse of a pack with warmth and compassion. He tried to lead with strength wrapped in empathy.
Foolish.
Empathy doesn't make people kneel.
Fear does.
I stood tall—shoulders squared, eyes burning—one crimson, one golden. A warning to every soul gathered before me.
The warriors came first, summoned by the three I had ordered. Then came the elders, the ranked wolves, the trackers, the omegas. Children clung to mothers. Fathers stood stiff and pale. The entire pack filled the clearing, hundreds of eyes locked onto me.
But none of them dared meet my gaze for long.
Good.
Let their fear settle like iron in their bones.
Let them remember who rules now.
"Bow," I commanded, voice low but laced with Alpha power.
A collective shudder swept through them.
One by one, they dropped.
Some on instinct.
