After My Mate Killed My Father, I Found a King

The border patrol was supposed to be routine. Just another evening of securing our territory, making sure no rogues dared cross into Silver Lake Pack lands. I walked alongside my father, his presence a comforting constant in my life. Even in his advanced years, his steps were steady, his eyes sharp. The former Beta's instincts were still razor-edge.

"Stay alert, Emily," he murmured, his gaze scanning the treeline. "Something feels off tonight."

I nodded, inhaling deeply. The forest usually smelled of pine and earth, but tonight there was something else—something feral and wrong.

Then I saw them. Yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness, at least seven rogues emerging from the shadows. My wolf stirred within me, sensing danger before my human mind could process it.

"Rogues!" I shouted, my voice carrying through the night air.

Everything happened so fast after that. The rogues charged, their matted fur and wild eyes marking them as long-time outcasts. Our patrol warriors engaged them, but one massive rogue broke through the line, heading straight for Aden.

My mate stood his ground, but I could see the momentary flicker of fear in his eyes. Before I could move, my father threw himself forward.

"No!" I screamed as my father's body intercepted the rogue's claws.

The sickening sound of tearing flesh filled my ears as the rogue's cursed claws sank deep into my father's chest. The rogue was using dark magic—I could smell it, see it in the unnatural glow of his eyes.

"Father!" I rushed to him as he crumpled to the ground.

Aden finally moved, his face not with concern but annoyance. He kicked the rogue away and leaned down, not to check my father's wounds but to inspect his own clothes for bloodstains.

"Get him back to the pack house," Aden ordered, his voice flat. "And someone clean up this mess."

I expected urgency, panic—anything that showed concern for the man who had just saved his life. Instead, Aden straightened his jacket and mind-linked the pack with clinical detachment: "The old wolf has been injured. Return to base."

---

The pack infirmary smelled of antiseptic and fear. My father lay on the bed, his breathing shallow, the cursed wounds festering despite Allyson's basic treatments.

"We need to get a High Healer," I pleaded, clutching my father's hand. "The wounds are cursed—they won't heal on their own."

Aden leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "We don't have that kind of money, Emily."

"I'll pay," I said immediately. "Use my inheritance, whatever it takes."

"Don't be ridiculous," he scoffed. "What would the pack think if their Luna pays for everything? Besides, bringing in outsiders compromises our security."

My father's hand tightened around mine. His eyes fluttered open, clouded with pain but still sharp with intelligence.

"The Alpha is right," he whispered, though I could see the lie in his eyes. He was trying to protect me, even now.

"I'll handle this," Allyson chimed in, her voice sweet but her eyes gleaming with something I couldn't