Chapter 22 : The Weight of the Crown

The hospital's neon lights flickered, casting a cold glow over the old man's frail frame. His sharp eyes locked onto Ethan Nicolas, who stood rigid, heart pounding. The old man's demand—your life—echoed in the air. Ethan's dark hair clung to his sweat-soaked forehead, his green eyes blazing with desperation and defiance.

"My life?" Ethan growled, fists tight. "What's that mean?"

The old man's smile was thin, predatory. "Not death. A gift—and a debt." His cane tapped the pavement, deliberate. "Swear to serve me, and I'll give you power. Strength. A way to protect her. Refuse, and Sophie's heart… fails."

Ethan's chest caved, Sophie's bloodied face flashing—her shallow breaths, the transplant that saved her. He'd burn the world to keep her safe. "Fine," he spat. "I swear. Don't touch her."

The old man's eyes glinted, his voice dropping to a guttural chant. Pain Ethan's arm burned, a phantom bite searing his flesh. He staggered, blood dripping from his sleeve, vision swimming—yellow eyes, a howl ripping through him. He collapsed, the pavement cold, the old man gone.

---

Present Day, Blackwood Forest

The memory shattered, and Ethan stood in Blackwood Forest's sacred clearing, the pack's amber eyes fixed on him under the full moon. The king's pyre smoldered, embers drifting like ghosts. Keva's voice rang—"Tell them why!"—and Ethan's scars glinted as he bared his truth: the old man's bite, Sophie's life, his sworn debt. His voice was raw, steady, each word heavy with the love that had cost him everything.

Silence fell, thick and reverent. Keva's gray fur bristled, her eyes shining with pride. Mara, the scarred elder, stepped forward, his voice a low rumble. "You gave your humanity for love, Ethan. That's strength no true-blood can claim."

The pack murmured, heads bowing. Keley, wiry and fierce, barked, "He's one of us—bitten or not. He's earned this."

But a young wolf, eyes like frost, snarled, confused. "No wolf bites with permission. Why'd this old man ask?"

The pack stilled, murmurs rising. Ethan's jaw tightened, his scars itching under his torn sleeve. Keva stepped into the circle, her voice cutting through. "Because that old man wasn't a wolf. He was a viper cat—a rare clan, shape-shifters who live by honor and truth."

The pack leaned in, eyes wide. Keva continued, her growl low. "Long ago, this viper cat cheated and killed a werewolf. His king, enraged, cursed him—trapped him as a frail human, sickly, suffering, until he could sire one hundred werewolves, each by their consent. Ethan…" She paused, locking eyes with him. "You were the first—and the last."

Ethan's breath caught, the old man's face flashing—those sharp eyes, that cold smile. The pack gasped, whispers swirling. Keva pressed on. "He helped humans at their breaking point, offering the bite. But no one ever agreed. No one but you, Ethan, for love."

The clearing erupted in howls, raw and fierce. Mara raised a massive paw. "Ethan's heart is wolf. His courage is ours. Who stands against him as king?"

Silence. Even the frost-eyed wolf lowered his gaze. Mara's scars gleamed as he lifted the antler crown, thorns sharp under the moon. "Ethan Nicolas, you are our king."

The pack roared, howls shaking the trees. Ethan stood tall, his green eyes fierce, heart pounding. Yama's warning—death is behind you, —flickered, but he shoved it aside. The crown settled on his head, heavy, binding. Rituals began—torches flared, blood was spilled on sacred stones, chants rose in primal rhythm. Ethan's claws flexed, his werewolf blood singing, the pack's loyalty sealing him to them.

As the moon dipped low, the rites ended. Ethan, crowned and drained, slipped away, the forest swallowing his steps.

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Ethan's House, 2 A.M.

Ethan stumbled into his house, the antler crown left behind in Blackwood's heart. His leather jacket hung loose, white shirt torn, black jeans scuffed. The full moon's pull still buzzed in his veins, his scars tingling. He kicked off his boots, collapsing onto his bed, the silence deafening after the pack's roars.

His green eyes drifted to the ceiling, heavy with exhaustion. Sophie's face surfaced—her blonde hair, her soft laugh, the way she'd looked at him before the crash, before the bite, before she called him a monster. "You're a freak," she'd spat, her red hairband slipping as she walked away, leaving him shattered. He'd loved her with everything, and it had torn him apart.

A tear slipped down his cheek, hot and unbidden. "Sophie," he whispered, voice breaking. The pain was old but sharp, a wound that never closed. He clenched his fists, the viper cat's curse echoing—your life. It had saved her, but it had cost him her love, her trust, her everything.

His phone lay silent, WolfSnap's growls quiet for now. The pack was his now, the crown his burden. But Sophie's ghost lingered, a reminder of why he'd sworn that oath, why he'd become this. Another tear fell, and Ethan closed his eyes, letting sleep claim him, the weight of the crown and his broken heart pulling him under.

To be continued...