Chapter 3 Chapter 3
“Who are you?”
His voice came from right above me, low and calm. I flinched hard, arms wrapping tighter around myself like that could make me disappear.
He stepped closer. Not threatening just there.
His shadow cut across the dappled light. Then I heard fabric shift. A pair of worn pants dropped next to my knee, followed by a soft linen shirt.
“Put these on,” he said. Not harsh, but definite. He turned his back, giving me the small mercy of not watching.
That tiny act of kindness cracked something open in my chest. My eyes stung. Fingers numb and clumsy, I pulled the clothes over my skin.
The pants were way too long, the shirt swallowed me whole. It smelled like pine, clean sweat, and him. Being wrapped in his scent felt more intimate and more dangerous than standing naked had.
“Can you stand?” he asked, still facing away.
I tried. My legs buckled like wet paper. I hit the moss again with a quiet thud.
He turned. Without a word he crouched, one arm sliding behind my back, the other hooking under my knees. He lifted me like I was nothing. I gasped, body going rigid against him. Every instinct screamed at the closeness.
“Easy,” he murmured, breath brushing my ear. “You’re safe.”
Safe. The word tasted like a lie. I was curled against a stranger’s chest in enemy land, carrying a dead wolf’s essence inside me like poison. But his hold wasn’t tight or trapping it was steady, solid. And that golden thread in my core stretched wider, warmer, seeping into my bones. The wrong, prickly heat of Drake’s stolen piece shrank back, like it couldn’t stand being this close to him.
He started walking, carrying me without strain. I stole a glance at his face jaw set, eyes focused ahead, not angry, just… resolved. He called out to the others, voice clipped and sure. “Caleb, run ahead. Tell my father I’m bringing someone in. Talia, flank us. Give us room.”
The wolves vanished into the trees without hesitation. His authority wasn’t loud; it was just there.
Too exhausted to fight anymore, I let my head drop against his shoulder. The forest blurred past. I was half-drifting when his voice rumbled close again.
“I’m Alaric.”
I didn’t answer. My throat felt locked.
He didn’t push. “You’re in Nightcrest now. You’re under my protection. That’s my word.”
Protection. From the pack that would rip me apart if they knew? From whatever monster I’d become?
The trees opened up. Scents changed woodsmoke, bread, the thick living hum of a real pack. Panic cut through the fog. I twitched, pushing weakly at his chest.
“Easy,” he said, arms firming just enough to hold me still. “No one’s touching you.”
We stepped into a wide meadow sloping toward the settlement. Strong, clean, alive. And every eye in the place locked on us.
Hundreds of stares. Whispers hissed like dry grass in wind.
“She stinks of Silverfang,” someone muttered.
“Smells like blood,” another voice low, ugly. “Like death.”
A younger male near the front growled under his breath. “Why the hell is the future Alpha carrying that filth?”
Alaric’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t slow. He walked straight through the judgment, holding me like a shield.
Halfway across, the crowd near the main hall split. A man stepped out silver in his dark hair, power rolling off him like heat. The Alpha. Beside him, a sharp faced woman who must be the Beta stand watching everything.
Alaric stopped. The meadow went still.
“Alaric,” the Alpha said, voice carrying without effort. “Your patrol comes back with quite the surprise.”
“Father. Beta.” Alaric dipped his head, respectful but unyielding. He didn’t set me down. “Found her at the northern cliffs. She's from Silverfang. She’s hurt, exhausted. I’ve claimed her as a ward.... ”
Murmurs exploded... sharp, disbelieving. “Ward?” someone hissed. “A Silverfang stray?”
The Beta’s eyes narrowed, slicing straight to me.
Why is she far away from her pack the alpha asked.
She must be exiled the beta said “Silverfang doesn’t exile people for nothing. What did she do, Alaric? And don’t pretend you can’t smell the death on her.”
My heart slammed so hard I thought it would crack ribs. This was it—they’d demand the truth, see the monster, and this fragile safety would shatter..
“I don’t know the exact crime,” Alaric said, voice steady as stone. “But I know Silverfang’s ‘justice’ is quick and cruel when there’s no one to speak for you. She’s here now. She’s not a threat to us. That’s enough.”
The Alpha studied his son for a long, heavy moment, then turned those ancient eyes on me. They cut deep, like he could see the black stain pulsing inside. I wanted to curl smaller, hide it. He’ll sense it. The second he does, this ends.
Finally the Alpha spoke. “Your word binds you, son. You vouch for her. Any trouble she brings.. Silverfang coming for her head, war on our borders you carry it. Will you hand her over if they demand it, or fight for a stranger you barely know?”
“I won’t hand her over,” Alaric said. No pause. No doubt.
Silence stretched. Then the Alpha gave one slow nod. “She’s your responsibility then. Keep her close. Keep her in line.” He leaned forward just a fraction, voice dropping. “And make damn sure this mercy doesn’t open a door for our enemies.”
“Understood.”
With one last unreadable glance at me, the Alpha turned and walked back inside. The Beta followed, her stare lingering like a blade.
The tension eased, but didn’t vanish. Whispers trailed us.
“You can take her inside,” the Alpha called back with a casual shrug. “Let the workers tend to her.”
“Yes, Father.”
Alaric let out a quiet breath I felt the tension bleed out of him.
Without another word he turned and carried me toward a small cabin at the forest’s edge.
He nudged the door open with his shoulder and stepped inside. Simple room: bed, chair, hearth, table. It smelled like him everywhere. He crossed to the bed and set me down gently on the thick wool blanket.
For a moment he just stood there, green eyes searching mine in the low light. The bond between us hummed, full of questions neither of us asked.
“Rest,” he said, voice rougher now. “You’re safe here. I’ll bring food soon.”
He turned and left. The door clicked shut behind him.
Alone. drowning in his clothes, sitting on his bed, in the middle of a pack that already hated the sight of me, guarded only by the stubborn promise of a future Alpha who felt like fate. I finally broke.
I pressed the sleeve to my face, breathing cedar and stone, and the tears came. Quiet, hot tracks down my dirty cheeks.
Not just fear anymore.
Something sharper.
Hope.
Terrifying, impossible hope.
And underneath it all, a small, cold whisper: What if I fall asleep and the fire-thorn wakes? What if I hurt him the way I hurt caden?