Chapter 1 - Articus

Articus White made a beeline for his friends as he entered the Full Moon bar that night.

The pressure from the elders to produce an heir still echoed in his ears. It was a constant refrain, growing louder with each passing day. Articus felt the weight of expectation pressing down on him, threatening to suffocate his own desires and plans.

As if it's that simple. As if I can just snap my fingers and produce one.

The impending trip to see his cousin Cassius also weighed heavily on his mind, a reminder of other duties he'd rather forget.

Sigh.

The scent of pine and hops washed over him as he approached the corner table where his fellow Alphas sat. Their faces were a mix of surprise and concern, no doubt picking up on his tense mood.

Another night, another gathering.

"Articus!" Rowan called out, raising his glass in greeting. "We were just talking about you. Didn't think you'd grace us with your presence tonight."

Articus slid into an empty chair, his blue eyes scanning the group. "Yeah, well, I needed a drink. Or ten. I have a lot on my mind," he admitted, running a hand through his white hair.

Blake leaned forward, his auburn hair catching the dim bar light. "Trouble in paradise? Don't tell me the elders are still on your case about—"

"An heir?" Articus cut him off, his voice low. "Yeah, they are. But that's not even the half of it."

The table fell silent, each Alpha sensing there was more to the story. Articus took a deep breath, steeling himself for the conversation ahead.

"I got a call today," he said, his fingers drumming nervously on the table. "From the Annex pack."

The reaction was immediate. Rowan's eyes darkened, Fannar's icy gaze sharpened, while Callahan's usual sunny demeanor dimmed. Even Xander, normally brooding and quiet, leaned in with interest.

"The Annex pack?" Asher's voice was barely above a whisper. "But they never reach out unless—"

"Unless there's a change in leadership," Articus finished for him. "Yeah. It’s time for a new Alpha to take over."

Blake, with his easygoing smile, raised an eyebrow. "The Annex pack? That’s quite the trek."

"It's a very important trek," Articus explained, rubbing the back of his neck. "The tradition is that the main pack sends a representative when there's a change in leadership over there."

Xander, leaning back in his chair, crossed his arms. "That tradition is a relic. Why does it still matter so much?"

Articus nodded. "It’s not just about tradition. The Annex pack was created to manage rogues and keep the peace between the two sides of the mountain. It’s crucial to maintain that balance. Our presence during the change of leadership shows our commitment to the stability between the packs."

Callahan, ever the warm-hearted one, chimed in, "And you’re the one who has to go because you’re the Alpha now?"

"Exactly, sometimes the heir goes, but unless I have Xander's luck, I don't have one," Articus said, a hint of frustration in his voice.

"It's my duty as the Alpha of the White Moon pack. I need to be there to ensure a smooth transition. It’s more than just showing up; it’s about reinforcing the bond between us and them."

The implications hung heavy in the air. Each of them knew what this meant, the weight of history, and the responsibility that came with it.

"So you have to go," Blake said, his diplomatic mind already spinning. "To oversee the transition."

Articus nodded, feeling the weight of his pack's legacy pressing down on him. "I leave in three days. And let me tell you, the timing couldn't be worse. And the elders continue to push for an heir," he said, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. "With everything happening with the Annex pack... it's just a lot to handle."

The atmosphere around the table shifted, a mix of understanding and curiosity settling over the group.

Fannar, ever the logical one, spoke up again. "I feel you, Articus, about the Annex Pack. But about an heir, I don't think it is an unreasonable request, considering our positions." His icy eyes fixed on Articus, analytical and unwavering.

Articus felt a flare of irritation. "Easy for you to say," he retorted. "You've all got your lives sorted out. I'm the only one still flying solo here."