Chapter 8: Ronan
Because Riven should have been the heir.
His younger self had seen it, no matter how much he tried to deny it. Riven had the blood of their father in his veins, the same sharp features, the same innate grace—he could have been great. But he wasn’t. He had been discarded, tossed aside as Julius took his place.
At first, Julius told himself it was justice. That it was fair. He was a purebred wolf. He was the one who had been raised under relentless training, suffering under their father’s expectations, crushed beneath the weight of responsibility.
Because he was not his father’s real son he had to work extra hard to prove himself. His mother would never forget that her life and his life hung in the balance, he needed to be recognised as the heir. He could never be anything less than perfect.
And Riven? Riven had done nothing. He had been nothing.
A leech. A burden. A disgrace.
Julius should have hated him.
But somehow, he didn’t.
A half-breed. A failure. Someone who didn’t deserve his attention, let alone his respect. And yet, from the moment they were children, his gaze had always been drawn to him.
At first, he told himself it was because Riven didn’t deserve the privileges he was born with. That Julius had to be better. Stronger. Worthier.
But deep down, he had known the truth.