Alaric sat in his chamber, the morning light slanting across the stone floor, casting long shadows against the walls. He leaned back in the heavy oak chair, his arms folded, lost in the low growl of conversation with his wolf.
"She's there," his wolf muttered. "Faint... but there. Like a heartbeat swallowed by stone."
Alaric exhaled slowly, eyes closed. "Why is it so weak?"
His wolf prowled inside him, restless and uneasy. "Not weak. Suppressed. Like... chained. Someone caged her wolf."
"And she believes she doesn't have one," Alaric mused bitterly. "Everyone believes it."
"Everyone is blind," the wolf snarled. "I can feel her. Small. Silent. But alive."
The pieces gnawed at Alaric's mind — Edna, the old lone wolf who raised Jade among humans; the mystery of Jade's origins; the heavy grief of Caden's death that bound her unwillingly to Shadowfang.
She was a mystery — not just to others, but to herself.
Alaric rose from the chair and moved to the wardrobe, pulling on his black ceremonial tunic stitched with silver thread. Today, he would leave for Crescent Moon Pack to attend the gathering of alphas — a gathering he should have been preparing for with strategy and cold focus. Instead, his mind drifted relentlessly to Jade.
While he dressed, his thoughts churned.
How could he see her again?
Catch a glimpse of her — just a moment — without frightening her further?
After the disastrous events of the night before, after her desperate apology and shame — orchestrated by others, no doubt — he had to be careful. Gentle. Strategic.
His fingers tightened around the thick leather of his belt as he buckled it into place. He couldn't simply call for her. He had to make it look... accidental. Natural.
But how?
The last thing he wanted was to force another scene where she'd be paraded before him like an offering.
Finally dressed, he tugged on his black cloak and stepped out of his room, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The wide, echoing halls of the Shadowfang Packhouse swallowed him up, cool and cavernous.
He made his way down to the living area — the grand receiving room where guests were hosted. It was a large, ornate space, lined with heavy drapes and polished stone floors that gleamed under the morning light.
As he approached, two guards standing at attention straightened even further at his presence.
Without looking at them, Alaric gave a subtle command, his voice low.
"Summon Alpha Rowan."
The nearest guard bowed quickly and sprinted off to obey.
Alaric entered the living area, his presence alone chilling the very air. He chose a seat near the center — an armchair carved from dark wood and upholstered in blood-red velvet.
There, he sat.
Waiting.
The silence stretched, oppressive.
Inside him, his wolf snarled, pacing impatiently.
I should tear them apart for what they did to her.
Alaric gritted his teeth, feeling his dominance slip at the edges — an invisible storm beginning to seep into the room, soaking the very stones with the sheer force of his presence.
He would not lose control. Not yet.
But the anger boiled beneath the surface — for the way Jade had been punished, humiliated, bound in chains of guilt for a crime she never committed.
He didn't have to wait long.
Heavy footsteps approached.
Rowan entered — the Alpha of Shadowfang — and immediately faltered.
The pressure in the room, the overwhelming dominance of the king, smashed into him like a tidal wave.
He dropped to his knees with a gasp, bowing his head so low it nearly touched the floor.
"Sire," Rowan croaked, sweat already beading on his forehead. "Forgive me."
Alaric did not speak at once. He let the silence stretch — oppressive, suffocating.
He studied Rowan with cold detachment, his silver eyes glinting like sharpened steel.
Rowan shifted uncomfortably under the weight of the dominance pressing down on him, his mind racing.
Was this about Jade? Was this about the incident last night?
Was it worse?
Rowan swallowed hard, his mind flashing to the report he'd received — Jade's supposed "attempt" to seduce the king. Her punishment.
He hadn't hesitated then. She had been summoned, reprimanded harshly — beaten — and ordered to apologize to the king at the next opportunity.
It was the law. It was necessary.
Wasn't it?
"Sire," Rowan stammered, desperate to explain. "About... the girl. The omega. I have handled the situation. She has been disciplined for her behavior—"
"Disciplined?" Alaric's voice cut through the room like a blade.
Rowan's heart nearly stopped.
Something in the king's tone — a quiet, cold fury — terrified him more than any shout would have.
"She acted improperly before the king," Rowan said hurriedly, trembling. "It was necessary to uphold the respect—"
Alaric rose slowly from his seat, the movement almost lazy.
But the energy in the room shifted dangerously, crackling with restrained violence.
He stepped forward once, and Rowan flinched.
"Tell me, Alpha Rowan," Alaric said, voice low and deadly calm. "What impropriety did you witness?"
Rowan opened and closed his mouth like a fish gasping for air.
"I... I heard reports, sire. From trusted wolves..."
"You punished a young woman based on gossip?" Alaric asked, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.
Rowan bowed lower, forehead nearly scraping the ground. "Forgive me, sire. It was not my intention to disrespect your authority."
Alaric stared at him a moment longer before turning away in disgust.
"I will handle this myself."
Rowan's entire body sagged in relief, though he dared not move.
"And if any further harm befalls Jade," Alaric added, his voice a soft promise of death, "you will answer to me. Personally."
Rowan whimpered, nodding frantically.
"Leave," Alaric commanded.
The alpha scrambled out of the room, practically crawling backward in his haste to escape the king's presence.
Alaric remained still for a long moment after Rowan left, the cool fury rolling off him in invisible waves.
His wolf spoke again. "She was punished for daring to exist in your presence. Like she's a stain they must scrub away."
"They will not touch her again," Alaric said aloud.
But he knew it wasn't enough to simply protect her. He had to understand her. Heal what the world had broken.
And for that, he needed to see her.
Without causing more fear.
Without another public spectacle.
He paced the living area slowly, formulating a plan.
Perhaps as he made his way to depart for the Crescent Moon Pack, he could pass by the servants' quarters. Perhaps a casual encounter, a fleeting moment.
Enough for her to see that he meant her no harm.
Enough for her to see him... not as a king.
But as a man.
His heart pounded — unfamiliar and unwelcome.
What is happening to me?
The wolf only chuckled darkly in his mind. "It's called caring, fool. Get used to it."