Chapter 5 The Pack Doesn’t Forget
I don’t sleep.
I lie in the dark with the blood moon’s light bleeding through the narrow window, painting the furs silver-red, turning every shadow into a warning. The bond hums beneath my skin like a second pulse—quiet now, but always there, as if Alaric has branded me from the inside out.
Every time I close my eyes, I see his face.
Not the threat of it.
The restraint.
That’s what unnerves me most. A man like Alaric Bloodhowl shouldn’t be capable of holding back. Not when his entire world is built on dominance and instinct.
Yet he did.
And it makes me wonder what he’s saving all that control for.
By morning, my nerves feel raw.
A soft knock sounds at the door, then it opens without waiting for permission.
A young woman steps inside carrying a tray of food. She’s wolf—there’s no mistaking the sharpness in her gaze, the confident way she takes up space—but her expression is measured, cautious.
Like she’s been sent to observe, not serve.
She sets the tray on the table and looks at me as if she’s trying to decide what kind of threat I am.
“You’re awake,” she says.
I keep my voice neutral. “Hard to sleep in enemy territory.”
Her mouth twitches, almost a smile. “If you were the enemy, you’d be dead.”
Fair point.
She folds her arms. “I’m Selene.”
A name that feels like moonlight and knives.
“Mira.”
“I know,” she says, and the bluntness makes my stomach tighten. “Everyone knows.”
Of course they do.
She glances at the food—stew, bread, water—then back at me. “Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
“Why?” I ask lightly. “Planning to run me through a trial by combat?”
Selene’s eyes sharpen. “Would you survive one?”
I meet her stare, refusing to flinch. “I survive what I have to.”
Something shifts behind her gaze—interest, maybe. Respect, maybe. Or the beginning of suspicion.
She steps closer, voice lowering. “The Alpha brought you here under a blood moon.”
I keep my face blank, though the bond stirs at the mention of him, as if his title alone is a summons.
“That doesn’t happen,” she continues. “Not with humans.”
“I’m not asking to be special.”
Selene snorts softly. “No. You’re just… here. And the pack doesn’t like mysteries.”
Neither do I.
I pick up the bread, tearing off a piece to give my hands something to do. My appetite is a distant thing; my stomach is too tight with fear.
Selene watches me chew as if she’s cataloging the movement of my throat, the rhythm of my breathing.
“You’re being watched,” she says plainly.
“I noticed.”
“Not just by guards.” Her eyes flick toward the window, toward the corridor beyond the door. “By everyone. Wolves don’t stop paying attention just because the Alpha says ‘wait.’”
I swallow. “Is that a warning?”
“It’s a fact.” She hesitates, then adds, “Some of them are angry. They think you’re a distraction.”
“A distraction from what?”
Selene’s jaw tightens. “From the tension in the borders. From the council. From what the Alpha is trying to hold together.”
I cling to the new piece of information like a lifeline. Pack politics. Fractures. Pressure.
If he’s stretched thin, he’ll be easier to poison.
The thought lands, cold and brutal.
I hate how quickly my mind goes there.
Selene’s gaze narrows. “What did you come here for, Mira?”
My pulse kicks.
I lift my eyes slowly. “The same reason anyone comes anywhere—because I had nowhere else to go.”
The lie is smooth, well-practiced.
But the bond tugs sharply, like a hook under my ribs.
I flinch before I can stop myself.
Selene notices instantly. Her nostrils flare as she scents the air.
“What—” she starts, then stops, her eyes widening slightly as if she’s caught something she can’t quite name.
I set the bread down. “What is it?”
Selene’s voice drops. “You smell like him.”
My heart stutters.
“That’s impossible,” I manage.
She takes another step closer, eyes scanning my face, my throat, my wrists, like she expects to see a mark.
“You smell like the Alpha,” she repeats, slower now, as if tasting the words. “Not like you stood near him. Like you… belong.”
Heat floods my cheeks, betrayal of my body in the cold morning light.
The bond hums again, pleased at being recognized.
Selene’s gaze hardens. “You should be careful.”
“I am careful,” I say, too quickly.
Her lips press together. “Then understand this: if the pack believes you’ve bewitched him—”
“I haven’t,” I snap.
Selene’s eyes flash, the wolf in her surfacing. “—they will come for you. Not with permission. Not with rules. Wolves protect what’s theirs.”
“And what about what’s mine?” The words slip out before I can stop them, sharp with exhaustion and anger.
Selene stills, studying me. “What is yours, Mira?”
My throat tightens.
Because the answer is nothing.
Not here.
Not with them.
Not when my coven still has a leash around my neck and a poison vial hidden in my boot.
Before I can respond, a ripple of movement passes through the corridor outside. The air changes, like the building itself is bracing.
Selene’s posture straightens. Her head tilts slightly, listening.
Then her gaze flicks to me—quick, warning.
“He’s coming,” she says.
The bond reacts instantly.
A deep pull, a surge of warmth, a pressure behind my eyes like my body is trying to turn toward him even before he enters the room.
My stomach flips.
The door opens.
Alaric steps inside like a storm contained in skin.
He’s dressed simply—dark shirt, dark pants, boots—but nothing about him is simple. The room feels smaller with him in it, as if the walls themselves have shifted inward.
His eyes land on Selene first. “Leave.”
Selene doesn’t move immediately. Her gaze flickers to me.
Alaric’s voice drops, heavy with authority. “Now.”
Selene bows her head and exits, closing the door behind her.
Silence rushes in.
Alaric’s gaze returns to me, and the bond flares so sharply I suck in a breath.
“You didn’t sleep,” he says.
It isn’t a question.
I lift my chin. “Neither did you.”
His eyes narrow slightly, as if he hadn’t expected that. “You feel it.”
I force steadiness into my voice. “I feel everything.”
He steps closer, stopping at that same careful distance as before—close enough to overwhelm, far enough to maintain control.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Then you’ll understand why I’m here.”
My pulse pounds. “To interrogate me again?”
“To warn you.”
That surprises me.
Alaric’s gaze holds mine. “The pack is restless. They think you’re a weakness I can’t afford.”
My mouth goes dry. “And what do you think?”
He doesn’t answer immediately. His nostrils flare once, slow and controlled.
“I think,” he says at last, “that you walked into my lands carrying secrets. And if those secrets threaten my pack…”
His voice trails off, but the meaning doesn’t.
He shifts closer, and this time he does reach for me—fingers wrapping around my wrist with firm precision.
The bond ignites at the contact, heat spiraling fast, sharp enough to make my vision blur.
Alaric’s jaw clenches. “You react too strongly for a human.”
My heart hammers. “Maybe you do too.”
For the first time, something like true emotion flickers across his face—anger, frustration, something dangerously close to hunger.
“You’re playing with fire,” he growls.
“I’m not playing,” I whisper.
Our eyes lock.
The room feels suddenly too warm. Too small.
His thumb brushes the inside of my wrist, and the bond pulses hard—an intimate ache, a traitorous rush that makes my breath catch.
Alaric stills as if he’s felt it too.
He releases me abruptly, stepping back like the touch burned.
“Stay in your room,” he orders, voice rough. “Do not speak to anyone without permission. And do not—” His eyes darken. “Do not provoke the pack.”
“And if I do?” I ask, because defiance is the only armor I have left.
Alaric’s gaze drags over me, slow, possessive, a warning wrapped in heat.
“Then you’ll find out exactly what wolves do,” he says, “when something threatens what they consider theirs.”
He turns and leaves, the door closing behind him with finality.
I stand frozen, heart racing, the bond humming like a living thing.
And in the silence he leaves behind, I realize something that makes my blood run cold.
He came to warn me about the pack.
But he didn’t warn me about himself.
Because whatever Alaric is holding back…
It’s not gone.
It’s only waiting.