Vincent’s POV
The Alpha King was supposed to be unshakable — a wall no one could move.
But when I reached my daughter’s door, the crown meant nothing. The faint sound of her voice carried through the wood, a soft sing-song rhythm as she spoke to her dolls, untouched by politics or betrayal. For one breath I allowed myself to be just a father, not a ruler, standing outside the only room in this palace where my strength was measured by gentleness.
Myra was never still, not even when injured.
The nurse bowed as she opened the door. I stepped inside.
Myra sat half-upright in bed, hair spilling across the pillow, arranging her dolls in neat rows along the blanket. She looked up immediately; her smile struck like sunrise.
“Daddy.”
That one word held both relief and question.
I crossed th
