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The Last Fenrir: No One Takes Her from Me
The Last Fenrir: No One Takes Her from Me

The Last Fenrir: No One Takes Her from Me

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Cursed blood. A fading legacy. And a prince aching for something more than survival. Prince Kade Fenrir is the last heir of a once-mighty werewolf bloodline, doomed by a witch's curse that turned his family name into a warning. Though strong and noble, Kade's monstrous transformations have made him a pariah among unmated she-wolves. With his father's throne and the future of the Fenrir pack on the line, Kade is thrust into a brutal search for a mate-one who will accept the terrifying truth of what he is. But love cannot be summoned like a soldier. Haunted by visions of a mysterious girl with forest-shadow eyes, he abandons palace halls for wild forests and hostile territories. Each step brings him closer to despair-until he meets Ivy, an Omega with a tragic past. She should fear him. She doesn't. He should leave her. He can't. Bound by fate and something deeper, Kade and Ivy's connection defies logic and bloodlines. But in a pack where betrayal walks in daylight and love can be a death sentence, the greatest danger may not be the curse-but what they awaken in each other.

Week to Strong
Werewolf
Dark Romance
Alpha Male
Romantic Suspense
Betrayal

Chapter 1

Feb 1, 2026

KADE'S POV

The great hall feels smaller tonight. Every seat is filled, and every eye is watching. I stand beside my father's throne, trying not to shift from foot to foot like a nervous pup.

"Quiet down," Father's voice booms across the room. King Fenrir doesn't need to shout. When he speaks, people listen. The murmurs die instantly.

I can smell the tension in the air. Fear, hope, and desperation, all mixed together in a scent that makes my wolf restless.

"My loyal pack," Father begins, his weathered hands gripping the arms of his throne. "We gather tonight to discuss the future of our bloodline."

Elder Marcus leans forward in his chair. "Your Majesty, surely there's no rush for such matters."

"Rush?" Father's laugh is bitter. "Marcus, my son is twenty-five. I was mated at twenty-two. My father before me at twenty-one." He pauses, letting that sink in. "We are running out of time."

I feel heat creep up my neck. Everyone knows the story. Everyone knows why we're here.

"The curse," whispers Lady Vera from the second row. She thinks she's being quiet, but wolf hearing picks up everything.

"Yes, the curse," Father says, not bothering to pretend he didn't hear. "Fifty years ago, the witch Morgana placed her dying words upon our family. 'Let the Fenrir line know scarcity,' she said. 'Let them know what it means to fade.'"

The hall is dead silent now. Even the servants have stopped moving.

"Since then," Father continues, "our family has grown smaller each generation. My brothers died in battle. My cousins fell to disease and accidents. Now there is only Kade." His eyes find mine. "The last Fenrir Alpha."

The words hit like a physical blow. Last. Always that word. It follows me everywhere.

Beta James stands up. "Your Majesty, perhaps if we expanded the search beyond our usual alliances—"

"We've tried everything," Father cuts him off. "Three years we've been looking. Three years of failed matches and broken betrothals." His voice grows harder. "The she-wolves of our allied packs find excuses. Sudden illnesses. Family emergencies. Changed minds."

"Father," I say quietly.

"Speak up, son," he says. "This concerns you most of all."

I clear my throat. "Maybe they're just not ready. Maybe we're pushing too hard."

A few pack members exchange glances. Elder Sarah shakes her head.

"Ready?" Father's eyebrows rise. "Kade, you are the heir to the most powerful pack in the northern territories. You are strong, healthy, and of good blood. Any she-wolf should be honored—"

"But they're not," I interrupt. The words come out sharper than I meant. "They're scared."

"Of what?" Beta James asks.

I look around the room. At faces I've known my whole life. People who've watched me grow up. Who've trained with me. Fought beside me. But even they have that look sometimes. That careful distance.

"Of the curse," I say simply. "Of being tied to a bloodline that's dying out. Of having pups that might be the last of their kind."

The silence stretches. Finally, Elder Marcus speaks.

"The Prince has a point, Your Majesty. The curse has made us... undesirable. Other packs see alliance with us as a risk."

"Then we make ourselves irresistible," Father declares, standing from his throne. Even at sixty-eight, he's imposing. The wolf in him still burns bright. "We remind them what the Fenrir name means. What our strength can bring to their bloodlines."

"How?" Lady Vera asks.

Father smiles, but it's not a pleasant expression. "By showing them we're not desperate. By proving we have options they can't ignore."

My stomach drops. I know that look. I've seen it before battles. Before hunts. When Father has decided something and nothing will change his mind.

"What are you planning?" I ask.

"A grand competition," he announces. "We'll invite every unmated she-wolf from every pack within a thousand miles. From the Snow Ridge Pack in the north to the River Bend Pack in the south. From the Mountain Crest Alliance to the Coastal Tribes."

The hall erupts in whispers. This is bigger than anyone expected.

"A competition for what?" Elder Sarah asks.

"For the right to be my son's mate," Father says. "For the honor of becoming the next Fenrir Queen. For the chance to mother the future of this pack."

I stare at him. "Father, you can't be serious."

"Deadly serious," he replies. "We'll host them here for one month. They'll compete in trials of strength, wisdom, and spirit. The winner will marry you and secure our alliance with her pack."

"This is not a good idea, King," Beta James mutters.

Father snaps. "Do you have a better idea? Should we wait another three years? Should we let the line die with Kade?"

The weight of it crashes over me again. The last Fenrir Alpha. The end of a bloodline that's ruled these lands for over three centuries.

"What if none of them are suitable?" I ask.

"They will be," Father says with certainty. "When faced with the chance to elevate their status, to join their blood with ours, they'll come. And one of them will prove worthy."

The hall holds its breath. Every person here understands what's at stake. Not just my future, but the future of everyone who calls this pack home.

"The invitations go out tomorrow," Father declares, his voice carrying to every corner of the room. "Let every pack know that King Fenrir seeks a bride for his son. Let them know that great rewards await the pack who provides her. And let them know that this is their chance to be part of something greater than themselves."

He sits back down, the decision made. Final.

The Last Fenrir: No One Takes Her from Me

The Last Fenrir: No One Takes Her from Me

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