Chapter 163
ALEXANDER
There’s something about the quiet before dawn that never sits right with me. It’s too still, too careful. Like the world’s holding its breath, waiting for something to go wrong.
I sat on the back porch, shirtless, a cigarette burning low between my fingers. Not because I needed it—hell, I hated the damn things—but it gave me something to do with my hands. Lucy was inside with Astrid, humming one of those lullabies that somehow soothed the both of them. And me? I kept watch. Always.
The pack had been quieter lately, but not calm. The kind of silence wolves know before a storm breaks. And I’d been feeling it in my bones. That edge. That tension. That pull like something just out of sight is creeping closer.
I heard the door creak behind me, followed by the soft click of bare feet on the wood. Lucy.
“You’re brooding again,” she said, and I turned, giving her a slow smirk.
“Is that what we’re calling it now?”
She rolled her eyes, stepping closer, her robe hugging those curves that always managed to drive me halfway insane even when the world felt like it was crumbling. Her scent—jasmine and fire—hit me like it always did. Distracting. Dangerous. Mine.
“Astrid’s asleep,” she said. “Out cold.”
I nodded, my jaw tight. “Good. She needs the rest.”
“So do you.” She paused. “But I know you won’t.”
She wasn’t wrong. I couldn’t afford to sleep like I used to. Not now. Not with the whispers getting louder.
They thought I didn’t hear them. The murmurs. The fear twisting their voices. Calling my daughter an abomination. A threat. A half-breed that shouldn't have been born.
They were damn fools.
“She’s a child,” Lucy said softly, as if she could read my thoughts. “Ours.”
“Yeah,” I said, standing. “And I’ll burn this entire pack to the ground if anyone even thinks about hurting her.”
Lucy didn’t flinch. She never did. That’s part of why I chose her. She didn’t shy away from the parts of me that scared others. The violence. The darkness. The weight of being alpha when you were born to lead, not to please.
“You think they’ll try something?” she asked.
I stared out into the trees, where the shadows moved like they were alive. “I think fear makes men do stupid things. And right now, they’re terrified of what they don’t understand.”
Lucy stepped beside me, resting her hand lightly against my bare chest. “Let them be afraid.”
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “They should be.”
We stayed like that for a moment—just the two of us, the wind whispering through the trees, and the sound of the world turning slower than it should.
But peace never lasts in our world.
Not when bloodlines are sacred. Not when tradition clings to old power like a dying man to breath. And especially not when your daughter was born of a miracle and a threat all in one.
“Come back inside,” Lucy said. “She’ll want you near when she wakes.”
I followed her in, locking the door behind me.
We passed through the living room where the fireplace still glowed softly, and into our room. Astrid slept in the middle of the bed, her tiny fists curled near her face. She looked peaceful. Untouchable. But I knew better.
I brushed a finger over her cheek, feeling that strange hum under her skin. Power. Something ancient. Something not just werewolf.
“She’s growing fast,” Lucy whispered.
I nodded. “Too fast.”
Lucy slid onto the bed beside Astrid, her eyes never leaving mine. “We’ll protect her.”
I bent down, pressing a kiss to Astrid’s forehead, then brushed Lucy’s hair back from her face. “With everything we’ve got.”
I meant it. Every word. And if that meant blood, so be it.
The next morning started like any other, but I felt the shift the moment I walked into the training yard. The looks. The tension in the air. The subtle way the conversations stopped when I passed by.
Derek, one of the older betas, stepped up to me. “Alpha.”
“Speak.”
He hesitated. Mistake.
“I don’t have time for silence, Derek.”
He swallowed. “There’s been... talk. Around the eastern borders. Some of the younger wolves—Rhett, Tomas, maybe even Silas—they’re saying the child’s presence is a curse. That she’s tainting the bloodline.”
My jaw clenched. I didn’t respond. Just walked past him, toward the forest.
“Alexander!” he called after me.
I didn’t stop. I didn’t need to hear more.
I found Rhett and Silas near the creek, talking low, but their postures were wrong. Tense. Ready for a fight they couldn’t win.
“Alpha,” Rhett said, straightening.
“Spare me the act.”
Silas tried to play it cool. “We were just talking—”
“I said,” I growled, “spare me the act.”
I stalked toward them, stopping inches away. “You think she’s a threat?”
Rhett’s jaw twitched. “She’s not natural.”
“She’s mine,” I snapped. “Which means she’s under my protection. You disrespect her, you disrespect me. And that’s a death sentence, boys. Want to test it?”
Silas glanced at Rhett, but Rhett—stupid, stubborn—held my gaze.
“She’s not just your blood,” he said. “She’s something else. What happens when she grows up and can’t control it? What happens when—”
I slammed him into the nearest tree so hard the bark cracked. “You don’t get to ask what happens. You’re not alpha. You’re barely worthy of beta. You’re scared of a baby because you’re weak.”
Rhett snarled, pushing at my chest, but it was like shoving stone. I let him try.
Then I whispered low, lethal, “If I hear you so much as breathe her name again, I’ll rip your throat out and make the others watch.”
He froze.
I dropped him, turning to Silas. “You?”
Silas shook his head fast. “No, Alpha. I’m with you.”
I walked away without another word. They’d think twice now.
That night, I didn’t tell Lucy what happened. She didn’t need more reasons to worry. But I stood by the window long after she and Astrid were asleep, watching the woods.
Something’s coming. I can feel it.
We’re not ready.
And then—like the world answering my thoughts—I caught it. A flicker of movement just beyond the tree line. Not wolf. Not anything I recognized.
I was out the door in seconds, shirtless, barefoot, shifting mid-run.
The forest greeted me like an old friend—cold, wild, full of secrets.
But whoever or whatever was out there, they were fast.
Too fast.
I chased the scent deeper, deeper into the dark, until it vanished. Like it was never there.
And that’s when I saw it—carved into the trunk of a tree near the center of the clearing. A single symbol. Burned into the bark.
Not a pack mark.
Not a witch’s rune.
Something older.
Something wrong.
My blood went cold.
And in that moment, I knew.
This wasn’t about whispers anymore.
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