Chapter 3 The Wolf King’s Arrival

 In a study that smelled like cedar and old paper, Kayden Brown—the supreme Alpha King of all werewolves—listened to his men talk about border trades.

 He slouched in a huge chair, tapping his fingers on the armrest. He was ridiculously handsome, his golden eyes deep and intense—so sharp you could barely look at him. Even his closest men stood stiff, a mix of respect and fear in their eyes.

 Then, Kayden’s tapping stopped.

 He sat up fast, his gaze locking on the southeast. Something shook deep in his soul—ancient, pure, like moonlight mixed with royal power. It was faint, like a candle in the wind, but that dominance? Impossible to mistake.

 It was what he’d searched for a thousand years—something he’d almost given up on. A pulse.

 “This energy…” Kayden whispered, excited. He stood so fast he knocked over his drink, not even noticing.

 His men froze. They’d never seen their leader lose his cool.

 Kayden closed his eyes, focusing on that faint connection. Yes—this was the “Lunar Sovereign,” waking up for the first time. Weak, but royal to the core.

 His eyes snapped open, golden light flashing. He barked orders at his elite guards, his voice sharp with authority:

 “Lock onto this pulse! Southeast district, near Rose Manor! Find it—now!”

 “Yes, Your Majesty!” The guards vanished.

 Kayden walked to the window, staring at the city lights. “Pure, ancient power… finally here? My… fated mate.”

 His thousand years of waiting might be over.

 …

 I spun around, heart pounding.

 In the moonlight stood a tall man, almost blending into the night, but his presence was impossible to ignore. He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit, his face so handsome it was absurd. His golden eyes burned like fire, locked on me.

 His Alpha aura was strong, but calm—not like the loud dominance of other Alphas. It was deep, like the ocean—quiet, but able to swallow you whole.

 Then, he did something I never expected.

 He stepped forward, not to attack, but dropped to one knee. His right hand pressed against his chest, a formal, ancient bow. He lowered his head, his voice deep with respect—words that hit me like a truck:

 "I mean no harm, Your Majesty. I''ve come to escort you to your throne."

 Your Majesty?

 Throne?