BOOK 2: Rogue for the Alpha--Chapter One: Rowan
The wind was sharp with the bite of early frost, whistling through the trees as Rowan bounded over the moss-covered ground in his wolf form. Each stride carried him further from his sister, and with every mile, his heart grew heavier.
The disease might have been slowed—cured, even—but the damage it left behind was carved into every memory he carried. The battles, the losses, the smell of death clinging to the pack lands like an unforgiving fog. It haunted him, even now.
Charlie had survived. More than survived—she had flourished. Watching her stand proud beside her mates, the pack finally embracing her as Luna, had filled him with pride. But it also hollowed something out inside him.
Not because he was jealous. No, not of her happiness.
But because he wanted his own.
Love. Connection. Someone who belonged to him in that sacred, unshakable way. But how could he ever find that when his pack had chosen isolation over unity, hiding in the mountains from the world for generations?
He slowed as the scent of pine and stone thickened in the air, the narrow trail ahead signaling the final stretch to his pack's hidden border. With a resigned breath, he shifted back to his human form, clothes waiting where he left them. He dressed quickly, shaking out the dampness in his auburn hair before climbing the final ridge.
Home.
And yet… it didn’t feel like it anymore.
Before he had time to reflect further, a runner approached, bowing his head. “The elders request your presence, Alpha.”
Of course they do.
Rowan’s jaw clenched, but he nodded and followed the young wolf through the winding paths of their mountain village. The air was colder here, thin with altitude and thick with the weight of expectation.
The elder chamber was carved into stone, firelight dancing off the ancient murals painted on the walls—stories of wars, bloodlines, and balance. Seated around a stone table were the five elders: Harlan, the stern-faced leader; Mina, wise but unyielding; Cole, the strategist; Elara, soft-spoken but sharp; and Dagan, the traditionalist.
All eyes turned to Rowan as he stepped into the room.
“Alpha Rowan,” Harlan said with a nod, voice gravelly. “It is time.”
Rowan didn’t move from the doorway. “Time for what?”
“To choose your Luna,” Elara said gently.
“You’ve been Alpha for two years,” Cole added. “The line must continue. The bloodline must endure.”
Rowan folded his arms. “I’ve told you—I’m waiting for my mate.”
Mina’s voice rose, tinged with exasperation. “And what if your mate never comes? Will you let the line die out because of a fantasy? Because of... hope?”
Rowan’s lip curled. “Mates are not fantasies. I’ve seen what that bond does. It’s real. And I won’t rob myself—or some stranger—of that connection just to fill a throne.”
Dagan leaned forward, eyes dark. “You’re not just a man, Rowan. You are an Alpha. Your duty is to the pack. To your ancestors. To your legacy.”
“And what about my heart?” Rowan asked, voice suddenly quiet but filled with steel. “What good is a Luna who doesn’t know my soul?”
The elders exchanged glances. Then, as if on cue, Harlan raised his hand and the heavy wooden doors behind Rowan creaked open.
Three women entered.
Each one beautiful. Each one poised. Each with Beta blood, the strength to lead, the breeding to bear his heirs.
“This is Elia,” Mina said, gesturing to the first—tall, with sun-kissed skin and gold eyes, her aura regal
“Sylah,” Elara introduced the second, petite but sharp-eyed, with hair as black as night and a calculating edge to her smile.
“And Rhea,” said Dagan. The third was calm and graceful, her presence warm but distant.
“You may choose one,” Harlan said. “Or all three. But you will choose, Rowan. Within three months. Or the title of Alpha will pass to your cousin Malrik, who already has heirs and stability to offer the pack.”
Silence rang through the stone chamber, thick as storm clouds.
Rowan’s fists curled at his sides. “You’d take my pack away from me?”
“Not your pack,” Cole said softly. “The pack. It must come first.”
A growl bubbled in Rowan’s throat. He turned to the women, their expressions unreadable—trained, no doubt, to conceal their own thoughts. Were they here by choice? Were they pawns in a game they didn’t get to decline?
Rage flared.
“You think I’ll be manipulated like this?” Rowan snapped, eyes glowing faintly gold as his wolf stirred within. “You think dangling wives in front of me will force my hand?”
“Duty is not manipulation,” Harlan replied calmly. “It is honor.”
With a roar, Rowan turned on his heel and stormed from the chamber. Behind him, the elders’ voices rose in urgency.
“Think of the pack!”
“Think of your future!”
But their words bounced off the walls behind him, meaningless echoes in a hall built to suffocate choice.
Out in the cool air, Rowan stood on the balcony that overlooked the ravine. His breaths came fast, his hands trembling. He could still feel their eyes on him, still feel the pressure of their expectation clamping down on his chest.
He couldn’t do this
He wouldn’t.
Somewhere out there, his mate existed. He didn’t know when, or how, they would meet—but he knew she was out there. And when she came, she would not be chosen for him. She would be his—heart, soul, and spirit.
And the rest of the world could burn before he let anyone take that from him.
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