Chapter 38: Cracks in the Alpha
The night was heavy, thick with the kind of silence that made every sound echo.
Rain had begun to fall outside, soft and persistent, tapping against the wide glass windows of the Alpha’s house.
Inside, the warmth of the fireplace threw a golden glow across the sitting room where Rhianna and Tia sat curled up with cups of tea.
They had been talking quietly — or rather, Tia had been doing most of the talking, as usual.
“I swear, Rhi, the way the guards were whispering today—” Tia leaned closer, eyes wide with gossip. “They said the Elders are considering naming Hardin as acting commander over the western unit.”
Rhianna frowned. “They wouldn’t dare. Sebastian’s still Alpha.”
“That’s what I said,” Tia replied quickly. “But people talk. They say Hardin’s tactics during the last border raid impressed the council. Some think he’s the rightful heir. You know how rumors grow.”
Rhianna’s gaze dropped to her cup, her fingers tracing the rim absently. “Hardin doesn’t want to take Sebastian’s place.”
Tia snorted softly. “Wanting and being chosen are two different things. If fate—or the council—decides otherwise, there’s not much anyone can do.”
Before Rhianna could respond, the doors slammed open.
The sharp sound made both women jump.
Sebastian stood in the doorway — his face streaked with blood, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with fury. His shirt was half torn, and rain dripped from his hair onto the wooden floor.
The sight froze Rhianna in place.
“Sebastian,” she breathed, rising to her feet. “What happened?”
He didn’t answer her question. His gaze flicked briefly to Tia. “Out,” he ordered.
Tia hesitated, glancing at Rhianna, who gave a small nod. Without another word, Tia slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Sebastian stood there for a long moment, his breathing rough. Then he moved, pacing like a caged wolf. “They’re fools,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. “Every single one of them.”
“Sebastian—”
“They think he’s better than me,” he spat, cutting her off. “Hardin. My brother. My shadow.”
Rhianna frowned, stepping closer. “What are you talking about?”
“The council,” he said, glaring at the flames in the hearth. “They’re whispering about making him Alpha. My title. My birthright.”
Rhianna shook her head slowly. “That can’t be true—”
“It is true!” he snapped, slamming his fist into the table so hard that the teacups rattled. “They’ve already started aligning with him. The guards, the scouts—everyone’s choosing him.”
She took a small, cautious step forward. “Sebastian, listen to me—”
“No,” he said sharply, turning toward her. His voice broke, rough with pain. “You don’t understand what it’s like to feel your pack slipping through your fingers.”
“I do,” she said gently. “I understand more than you think.”
He stared at her for a moment, then laughed bitterly. “Do you? Because it feels like even you’ve picked him over me.”
Rhianna blinked, startled. “What are you talking about?”
He stepped closer. “Don’t pretend you don’t know. You defend him. You smile when he’s near. You talk about him like he’s the hero of every story.”
“That’s not true,” Rhianna said quickly, her voice trembling. “Hardin is your brother, Sebastian—”
“Say it,” he hissed, eyes flashing. “Say you pick me over him.”
Rhianna’s chest tightened. “Sebastian—”
“Say it!” he roared, moving forward. His hand shot out, gripping her wrist, pulling her back against the wall with a thud. His eyes burned with desperation, not malice, but it frightened her all the same.
“Sebastian—stop—”
His hand slid to her throat, not choking, but firm enough that she could feel the tremor in his grip. “Answer me, Rhianna!” he growled. “Say you choose me!”
Her eyes watered, fear flickering in her chest. “You’re hurting me,” she whispered, her voice weak and breathless.
“Answer me!” he demanded again, his voice breaking this time. “Say it!”
“Sebastian—please,” she gasped, her hands clutching his arm. “You’re hurting me.”
The moment cracked.
He froze — his chest rising and falling too fast — realization flooding his expression. Slowly, he released her, stumbling back a step as though her words had struck him harder than any blow. His hand shook as he raked it through his hair.
“Rhi…” he whispered hoarsely. “I’m sorry. I didn’t— I didn’t mean to—” He looked at his trembling hands. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Rhianna pressed a hand to her neck, gasping softly, her eyes wide and wet with tears. “Sebastian…”
He took another step back, voice shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “Please, forgive me.”
Rhianna didn’t move. The look on her face wasn’t hate — it was heartbreak.
“You let your anger rule you,” she said softly, voice trembling. “And one day, it’s going to destroy you, Sebastian.”
His breath caught, his jaw clenching. He turned away sharply, eyes glistening in the firelight. “I just… I can’t lose everything, Rhianna. Not the pack. Not you.”
But she said nothing.
The silence that followed was heavy and hollow — the kind that swallows whatever love is left.
Sebastian stood there one last time, broken and trembling, before leaving the room without another word.
And as Rhianna sank slowly to the floor, her throat sore and her heart heavier than before, she realized something chilling:
It wasn’t the bandit hunters or the council that would tear this pack apart.
It was the war building between the brothers — and the woman caught in the center of it.