Chapter 206
AYLA
I woke up to silence.
Not the anxious kind, thick with waiting. This was different. Softer. The kind of silence that wrapped itself around your shoulders like a blanket, warm and earned.
Jake lay beside me, one arm draped across my waist, his breathing slow and deep. His face was relaxed—finally—not furrowed with worry or twisted in pain. The gash across his ribs had scabbed over and was healing steadily, though I knew better than to trust the pace. Supernatural or not, he’d been too close to death to be bouncing back like nothing happened.
I stayed still for a moment, listening to the rhythm of his heart beneath my palm. Strong. Steady.
He stirred slightly, nose brushing my collarbone, and mumbled, “S’early…”
“You’re the Alpha,” I whispered. “Aren’t you supposed to be up before dawn, patrolling the territory or threatening people with your grumpy face?”
He made a low, grumbly sound and pulled me closer instead. “Five more minutes. Doctor’s orders.”
“You’re not under doctor’s orders. You’re under my orders now.”
That earned a snort. “Terrifying.”
“I know,” I said, smirking.
His hand slid down my back. “Stay with me a while.”
I wanted to. Gods, I did. But there were things to do. People who needed direction. Jake might’ve still been the technical Alpha, but while he was recovering, the weight of leadership had quietly shifted onto my shoulders.
I kissed his cheek. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”
“I already do,” he muttered, half-asleep again.
I slid out of bed, pulling on one of his oversized shirts—it hung to my thighs, smelling like him—and quietly padded out of the room.
The packhouse was already awake. I could hear the low murmur of voices in the common room, boots against the stone floor, the clatter of pans from the kitchen. It wasn’t chaotic, but it was busy—the kind of energy that came after a storm, when everyone starts piecing things back together.
When I stepped into the hallway, a few heads turned.
There it was again—that flicker of uncertainty in their eyes. Respect, maybe. Or fear. Or curiosity. It was hard to tell sometimes. I wasn’t just Jake’s mate. I was the woman who’d killed two witches with her bare hands. Who’d tracked down the pendant that saved the pack. Who’d faced off with the Elders and walked away.
But they didn’t really know me yet.
Not like they knew Prisca.
And I was done trying to fill shoes that weren’t mine.
I found Chris in the strategy room, hunched over a map with two Betas from the eastern border.
“Morning,” I said, stepping in.
Chris looked up, surprised. “You’re up early.”
“Someone’s got to be,” I said. “Jake’s still healing. What’s the situation?”
One of the Betas—Eli—pointed at a red mark on the southern trail. “Patrols spotted movement again. Could be scouts. Could be stragglers.”
“Or spies,” Chris added. “We need to reinforce that trail, but we’re stretched thin. I was going to wake Jake—”
“No,” I said, cutting him off gently but firmly. “He needs rest. I’ll handle it.”
Chris blinked. “You’ll lead the reinforcement?”
“Yes,” I said, stepping up to the table. “Put me on the route. I’ll take Maya and Juno, rotate Eli and Keegan on watch until we know what we’re dealing with.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Chris nodded. “Understood.”
No arguments. No side glances. Just a nod.
It felt good.
We finalized the rotation quickly, and I made my way outside with Maya and Juno—two of the fiercest female wolves I’d met since joining the pack. They didn’t bother with small talk. They just followed, fast and silent through the woods, their bodies tense but focused. They trusted me, and that was saying something.
We patrolled the trail for hours, tracking scents, marking territory, rerouting the vulnerable pathways. I found the remnants of a campfire near the eastern ridge—recent. Not pack. Not rogue either. Something… colder. Cleaner.
Witch?
I didn’t say anything yet. No need to start a panic. But I filed it away.
When we returned, the sun was high, the air warm with late spring promise. The packhouse came into view, and I slowed my steps, brushing dirt from my thighs and exhaling slow.
“You’re good at this,” Maya said quietly beside me.
I looked at her. “At what?”
“Leading.”
Juno nodded. “You don’t bark orders. You just… get things done.”
“Feels different from Jake,” Maya added. “Not better or worse. Just different. Balanced.”
That one hit deeper than I expected.
“Thanks,” I said, throat tight.
They peeled off toward the training grounds, and I headed back to the house.
Jake was sitting on the porch, shirtless and scowling into a cup of tea like it had personally offended him.
He looked up as I approached, eyes softening.
“Where’d you go?” he asked.
“Out,” I said, taking the seat beside him.
He took a sip. Winced. “Herbal. Tastes like tree bark.”
“You’re supposed to be healing.”
“I was supposed to be leading the pack.”
“You’re still the Alpha,” I said. “You just… needed a break.”
Jake studied me. “Chris said you took charge this morning.”
“I did.”
“You took Maya and Juno out?”
“Yes.”
“And handled the potential scout sighting?”
I nodded.
Jake looked at me for a long moment. Then: “You did good.”
That simple.
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
“Why would I be mad that my mate is smart, strong, and more capable than half the Council combined?”
I blinked. “Because you’re a traditional Alpha. Because this pack hasn’t exactly been modern about letting women lead.”
Jake leaned in. “You’re not just any woman. You’re my partner. I trust you. They will too.”
“I’m not trying to replace—”
“I know,” he said. “You’re not replacing anyone. You’re becoming something else. Something this pack didn’t know it needed.”
And there it was.
Not pity. Not permission.
Respect.
Real, quiet, sturdy respect.
Jake reached for my hand, and I let him lace our fingers together.
“I saw you today,” he said. “Not just the woman I love. I saw the Alpha you’re becoming.”
I swallowed hard.
Then smirked. “If this is your way of telling me I’m hot when I boss people around, you could’ve just said that.”
He groaned. “You ruin all my dramatic moments.”
“I live to torment you.”
We sat like that for a while—him with his terrible tea, me still dirty from the patrol, both of us a little bruised but whole. Alive.
Jake leaned back, closing his eyes against the sun.
“You know,” he said, “the pack’s never had a Luna like you.”
“Because I’m a disaster?”
“Because you’re a storm,” he corrected. “And they’re going to learn to stand in the rain.”
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