Chapitre 11: The Faceless Prince
Zane~
My name is Zane Anderson Moor.
Most know me as Cole Lucky, a name that commands power and respect in the human world, but in truth, I am the last heir to the Lycan throne. Among my kind, I am known as The Faceless Prince, a moniker born out of necessity. No one knows my true identity—only the king and those he trusted beyond measure. And trust, in our world, was a scarce commodity.
My story began in blood and betrayal. My father, King Anderson Moor, had once ruled with strength and fairness. He had children—many children—each a beacon of hope for our lineage. But one by one, they were snuffed out like fragile flames in the wind. Assassins, cloaked in shadows, carried out unspeakable acts. My uncle, Prince Nathan Moor, stood at the heart of it all, lusting for the throne. My father suspected him but had no proof to condemn him.
Still, my father acted, banishing Nathan from the royal family. Many whispered that the king had misused his power, casting out his own brother without evidence. Yet my father stood resolute, unwavering in his decision. He had to protect what was left of his family.
I was only ten when my world was ripped apart. Assassins came again and again, and my father realized the bitter truth: if I stayed, I would die. That night, Nora and Charlie, two of my father's most trusted confidants, spirited me away under the cover of darkness. They concealed me in the human world, far from prying eyes and the ever-present threat of Nathan's reach.
I grew up knowing the truth of my heritage, trained daily to take my place as king one day. I learned the art of combat, the intricacies of diplomacy, and the weight of responsibility. Yet, my life among humans shaped me in ways my father couldn't have foreseen.
When I was older, I discovered my father's secret hope: the reincarnation of the moon goddess's daughter. Prophecy claimed she would return in his reign, and whoever she was born to or mated with would secure their lineage as rulers for 4,000 years. My father believed this celestial heir might come to me.
But fate had other plans. My mate wasn't a celestial being. She was Emma—a simple werewolf omega from a small pack. She had no title, no grand destiny. But she was everything to me.
Seven years ago, Emma died giving birth to our son, Alexander. She was only 23. Not even the wealth and power I amassed as Cole Lucky, a billionaire with resources beyond measure, could save her.
Her death hollowed me. My wolf, Red, and I became shadows of what we once were, surviving only because of Alexander. My son was my anchor, the light in my darkness.
Alexander was sweet and cheerful as a young child. He adored me, clinging to my side wherever I went. But that changed one terrifying day when I came home to find him missing. My estate was secure, a fortress protected by guards, Nora, and Charlie. Yet Alexander was gone.
We searched everywhere, my heart pounding with fear. Hours later, I found him in an old shed, huddled in wolf form. He had shifted—at six years old.
Werewolves don't shift until they're at least thirteen, sometimes later. This was unheard of, unnatural.
I tried everything to coax him back to his human form, but he refused. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months. Alexander stayed in his wolf form, retreating further into himself.
Then, the running began. No matter the precautions I took, Alexander found ways to escape. Each time, I would search relentlessly, eventually finding him hours later, exhausted but alive.
But two months ago, he vanished again. This time, he didn't return as quickly. Panic gripped me as I scoured every corner of the city, following every lead.
Finally, I found him two cities away from mine. Humans had taken him, believing him to be a rare wolf pup they could exploit. I destroyed their operation, tearing through their ranks. But Alexander wasn't there. One of them, trembling with fear, told me he had escaped into an alley near Maple Street.
I followed the trail and found him sitting by the roadside. Relief coursed through me, but it was short-lived. He wasn't alone.
A young girl with the wildest red hair I had ever seen, sat beside him, her hand resting gently on his fur. Alexander, my son who trusted no one, allowed her to touch him.
I stayed in my car, stunned. Not even Nora or Charlie, who had raised me and cared for him, could get close to Alexander. Yet here he was, calm under this girl's touch.
When I approached, the first thing that struck me was her scent. It was human, ordinary, yet laced with the unmistakable aura of a male alpha.
"Alexander," I called softly through our mind link. His ears perked up, and he turned to me, his eyes filled with recognition.
********
When I brought her back to the crumbling place she called home, I was stunned. The building was barely holding itself together—walls cracked, the roof sagging, and the door looked like it had been kicked in more times than I could count. A part of me wanted to ask how anyone could live like this, but I pushed the thought aside. It wasn't my problem. I had my son back, and that was all that mattered.
She muttered a hurried, almost embarrassed goodbye before darting toward the battered doorway, her small frame disappearing into the shadows within. I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and started the car. It was time to leave this nightmare behind.
But just as I reached for the gear shift, something miraculous happened.
Alexander shifted.
Right there in the passenger seat, my son transformed back into his human form—a sight I hadn't seen in over a year. My heart nearly stopped. His once-proud wolf frame melted away, revealing the fragile boy I had almost lost to this curse.
Tears streamed down his face as he threw himself into my arms, his small body trembling against mine. His cries weren't just of relief—they carried a weight that no child should ever have to bear.
"Don't leave her, Daddy," he sobbed, clutching at my shirt like his life depended on it. "Please don't leave Natalie behind."
I froze, my mind racing. My son—my stubborn, resilient Alexander—had resisted every attempt, every plea to return to his human form. And yet, here he was, shifted back for the sake of this girl.
This wasn't just a coincidence. She wasn't just some girl.
I glanced back at the shelter, its broken silhouette standing against the darkening sky. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. Every instinct screamed at me to leave, to take my son and never look back. But Alexander's trembling voice cut through every argument in my head.
"Please, Daddy."
I exhaled sharply. Whatever this girl was to him, I couldn't ignore her now.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone