The whiskey burned Kael's throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire raging in his chest, the glass creaking under his grip as he faced Alpha Holt across the pack's war room. At 43, Kael was a walking wound, scarred by decades of loneliness, by the laughter of younger wolves claiming their mates while he stood alone, haunted by his father's betrayal. His father had abandoned him and his mother for a his own fated mate, a choice that shattered their family, left his mother a hollow shell, and branded Kael with a vow: he'd never take a mate unless she was fated, no matter how the years piled on, no matter how the pack whispered he was too old, too broken. Holt's words were a fresh cut, careless and cruel: "She's my mate, but I won't claim her. The pack comes first."
Kael's beast growled, a primal fury that made his claws twitch, his silver eyes blazing. "You're a fucking fool, Holt," he snarled, his voice a low, jagged blade, each word dripping with venom. "You've got a fated mate—a gift I'd bleed for, die for—and you're throwing her away like she's garbage. Do you have any idea what you're spitting on?"
Holt's jaw tightened, his alpha presence flooding the room, but Kael didn't back down, his rage too raw, too deep. "Watch your tone, Kael," Holt growled, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. "The pack's survival outweighs any bond. She'd be a liability, a distraction. You think I don't feel the pull? It's tearing me apart, but I'm alpha. I make the hard calls."
"Hard calls?" Kael slammed the glass down, the shatter of it echoing like a gunshot, shards skittering across the table. "You're not making a call, you're running scared! You've got half my luck, Holt, and you're pissing it away because you're too weak to face it. Forty-three years I've waited—forty-three fucking years*—watching pups, warriors, even the damn omegas find their mates, build their lives, while I'm left with nothing but this pack and a hole where my soul should be. And you, with your mate out there, you're choosing to let her rot?"
Holt surged to his feet, his voice a thunderclap. "You think this is easy? The bond's a chain, Kael, dragging me to her every second! But I can't afford to be selfish. The pack needs me strong, not chasing some human who'll weaken us. You'd do the same in my place, don't pretend you wouldn't."
Kael's laugh was bitter, jagged, cutting through the air. "No, I wouldn't. You don't know what it's like to grow up knowing your father chose a stranger over you, over your mother. He left us, Holt, some woman who tore our family apart, left my mother crying herself to death, left me to pick up the pieces. I was eight, watching her waste away, knowing I wasn't enough to keep her here. I swore—swore—I'd never take anyone but my fated mate, no matter how long I had to wait, no matter how it burned. And you're standing there, with your mate waiting, and you're spitting in the face of everything I've fought for, everything I've lost."
Holt's fists clenched, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You're letting your pain blind you, Kael. The pack's bigger than us, bigger than any bond. You want a mate? Take one. There are females lining up for you—strong, loyal. You don't need fate to—"
"I don't want anyfemale!" Kael growled, his beast breaking through, fur rippling under his skin, his claws gouging the table. "I want her—the one meant for me, the one who'd make this fucking emptiness go away. Not some compromise that'll leave me hating myself, like my father did, walking out on us for a woman. You're a coward, Holt, hiding behind duty because you're too scared to feel, too scared to risk it. You don't deserve her." His voice cracked, the weight of his loneliness, his father's betrayal, his mother's broken sobs spilling out, raw and unstoppable.
Holt's eyes flickered with something—guilt, maybe—but he shook his head, stepping closer. "You're out of line, Kael. You don't get to judge me. You think I don't hurt? I feel her every damn day, but I'm not you, chasing dreams that'll get us all killed. Go cool off before you do something stupid."
Kael's chest heaved, his beast clawing at his restraint, the room too small for his rage, his pain, his need to break something. "Stupid's what you're doing, Holt," he spat, turning for the door. "You'll regret this, and I'll be damned if I watch you ruin her like my father ruined us." He stormed out, the pack's eyes burning into his back, his heart a furnace of anger and despair.
The night air hit him like a blade, cold and sharp, but it couldn't douse the fire in his blood. He needed to hunt, to kill, to feel the crunch of bone under his jaws. A deer, maybe two, to sate the beast, to drown out the ache of another night alone, the echo of his mother's sobs, his father's footsteps fading into the dark. He shifted mid-stride, his black fur gleaming under the moonlight, his senses sharpening as he tore into the forest, the ground trembling beneath his paws.
The woods were alive, the scent of pine and earth grounding him, but then it hit—a fragrance so potent it stopped him dead. Sweet, wild, laced with a primal edge that made his beast roar with something he hadn't felt in years: hope. It was her, a human in Jason's territory, her scent unmistakable, a trace of wetness that wasn't just fear or sweat but something deeper, something that had driven Jason's pack to madness. His heart pounded, the faint pulse of a bond—a fated bond—stirring in his chest, impossible but undeniable. His mate. After all these years, she was here, in enemy territory, and she was running.
His beast surged, hope and fear colliding in a torrent. He'd almost lost her—her scent carried the tang of blood, of bruises, of a body pushed to its limits. The thought of her pain, her fear, made his claws dig into the earth, a growl ripping from his throat. He broke into a sprint, crossing the invisible line into Jason's territory, the pact be damned. The consequences—war, the pack's fury—meant nothing compared to her. He couldn't lose her, not now, not when he'd spent decades believing love was a lie, his father's betrayal a scar that never faded, his mother's broken sobs a sound he'd never forget.
The forest blurred past, his senses locked onto her scent, guiding him through the tangled undergrowth. She was close, her heartbeat a faint, frantic drum in the distance, her breaths ragged with exhaustion. The bond pulsed, faint but growing, a tether that made his beast howl with need—to protect, to claim, to hold her. But fear clawed at him too, the terror of finding her only to lose her, of being too late. Her scent grew stronger, mixed with the iron of blood, the salt of tears, and he pushed harder, his paws tearing the earth, the howl from before echoing in the distance, a reminder of the larger threat stalking them both.
He broke into a clearing, his silver eyes catching her at the cliff's edge, her frail form trembling in Jason's oversized shirt, her body battered, her face streaked with tears. She was a vision of defiance and despair, her bruises stark against her pale skin, her hunger and exhaustion etched into every line. His beast roared, the bond flaring as he saw her jump, her scream tearing through him like a blade. "No!" His growl was a thunderclap, panic seizing him as he lunged to the cliff's edge, his heart stopping as she vanished into the darkness.
The bond pulsed, faint but alive, and he knew she wasn't gone. His beast clawed at him, hope and fear a tangled mess—hope that she was his, fear that he'd lose her before he could claim her. He didn't hesitate. Without hesitation, he threw himself off the cliff, his massive form plunging into the icy river below, the shock of the water nothing compared to the terror gripping him. He surfaced, his eyes scanning the dark until he found her, half-submerged, her bruised body trembling as she dragged herself to the bank. Her heart still beat, weak but stubborn, and his beast settled, just barely, the bond humming with her presence.
"You're not dead," he growled, his voice rough, conflicted, as he waded toward her. She flinched, scrambling back, her eyes wide with fear, her body screaming with pain. He grabbed her arm, his grip firm but careful, the bond sparking at the contact, a reminder of what she was to him. "Not yet." The howl came again, closer, joined by snarls—his pack or Jason, he didn't know. He pulled her to her feet, her legs buckling, her bruises stark in the moonlight, and carried her, his beast urging him to run, to protect her, to get her to safety.
The forest blurred as he sprinted toward his pack's territory, her weight light but heavy with meaning in his arms. Her hunger, her exhaustion, her pain—they were his now, his to bear, his to fix. The bond pulsed, a faint echo of Jason's claim clashing with his own, and he growled, his beast raging at the thought of another's mark on her. His loneliness, the decades of watching others find love, the fear of becoming his father—it all crystallized into this moment, this woman, his mate. He couldn't fail her, not like his father had failed him, leaving his mother to waste away, her heart broken, her son alone.
They reached the pack's stronghold, a fortified camp hidden in the woods, and he bellowed for the doctors, his voice shaking the air. Wolves parted, their eyes wide as he carried her inside, her body limp, her breaths shallow. The doctors swarmed, their hands quick but gentle, tending her bruises, her bleeding feet, her hollowed frame. Kael stood back, his chest heaving, his beast roaring to stay near her, to touch her, to claim her. But fear rooted him—fear of losing her, fear of the bond snapping, fear of the howl that still haunted the night, fear that he'd found her only to watch her slip away, like his mother had slipped away after his father's betrayal.
Holt's POV
The stronghold reeked of blood and antiseptic, the doctors' urgent shouts slicing through the air as they fought to stabilize the human—Kael's supposed mate. Her frail body was a canvas of bruises, her vitals flickering like a candle in a storm, and Holt's chest tightened with dread. Kael had shattered the pact, dragging this marked woman into their territory, and now Jason's pack would demand blood.
A sharp crack split the night outside, followed by a low, deliberate chuckle. His senses sharpened, the pack falling silent around him. "Stay here," he growled, striding toward the door, his boots heavy on the wooden floor. The cold night air bit into him as he stepped outside, the forest a wall of shadows under the moonlight. A figure stood at the clearing's edge, tall and lean, his scent unmistakable—Thomas, Jason's Beta, his lips curled in a mocking smile, his eyes glinting with a calm, unhinged amusement.
Holt's claws twitched, but he kept his voice steady, wary. "Thomas. You're far from home, and it's a bad night for a stroll." The words were a warning, laced with the weight of their fragile peace.
Thomas tilted his head, his chuckle low, almost playful, but it carried a chill that made Holt's skin crawl. "Oh, Holt, always so serious," he drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm, each word a taunt. "I'm just here on a little errand. Had to chain Jason up to keep him from painting your territory red, you know. He's positively feral over his new Luna. So, let's make this easy—hand her over, and we'll all pretend this little oopsie never happened."
Holt's gut twisted, Jason's claim was undeniable, etched in the bond Kael had sensed, but Kael's bond was real too, a fated imprint Holt couldn't dismiss, not after seeing his friend's pain.
"She's not your Luna, Thomas. Jason claimed a mate years ago—everyone knows it. And someone in my pack has imprinted on her. She's under our protection now."
Thomas's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with a eerie glint, like a predator toying with prey. "Oh, Holt, you're adorable when you play noble," he said, his tone mocking, almost sing-song. "Jason's little fling from before? Old news, barely a footnote. This girl, though? She's special. Jason claimed her first, marked her, made her his. Your guy's imprint? Cute, but irrelevant. A few of our warriors got all hot and bothered over her scent—must be that sweet little trace of her, you know, down there. Maybe your friend's just confused, sniffing the wrong kind of magic."
Holt's jaw clenched, his instincts screaming to shut Thomas down, but he held his ground, wary of the war looming if he pushed too far. "Confused?" he said, his voice tight, controlled. "Kael's not some pup chasing a scent. He's bonded, Thomas, fated. Jason's claim doesn't erase that, and you know it. Your alpha's obsession doesn't give him rights over her."
Thomas laughed, a sharp, grating sound that echoed through the trees, his hands spreading in a mock gesture of exasperation. "Rights? Oh, Holt, you're killing me with this morality play. Jason wants her, and what Jason wants, Jason gets. That's how it works in the real world, not your little fairy-tale pack. His mark's on her, clear as day, and her scent's got half our pack ready to rip each other apart. You think your friend's puppy love stands a chance against that? Come on, be practical. Hand her over, and we'll all go back to playing nice."
Holt's fists tightened, his calm fraying, but he thought of Kael—his friend, his second. "Practical?" Holt said, his voice hardening. "You call it practical to tear a fated mate from her bond? Jason's got no claim that outweighs fate, Thomas. He's had his chance, played his games. Kael's imprint is real, and I'm not betraying my pack—or my friend—for your alpha's tantrum."
Thomas's eyes glinted, his smile never wavering, but his voice dropped, a silky, dangerous edge creeping in. "Tantrum? Oh, Holt, you're so precious. Jason's not throwing a fit—he's a force of nature, and that girl's his anchor. You think your friend's little crush is fate? Please. Her scent's a drug, messing with heads, Kael's included. A few of our guys thought they bonded too, till Jason set them straight. You're sitting on a powder keg, and you're too busy playing hero to see it. Give her up, or Jason's coming, and he won't be asking nicely."
Holt stepped forward, his voice a low growl, his wariness giving way to defiance. "You're not hearing me, Thomas. She's not your property. Jason's mark doesn't mean shit if fate says otherwise. I'm not handing her over to feed your alpha's ego."
Thomas clapped slowly, the sound sharp and mocking, his grin widening. "Bravo, Holt, what a speech. Really, I'm touched. But let's cut the crap, shall we? Jason claimed IS fated to her, marked her first, and that's the only truth that matters. Your friend's delusional, caught up in her scent like a dog with a bone. You want to talk pain? Try holding Jason back when he smells her on the wind. Give her back, or we'll take her, and your cute little pack will be a footnote in our story."
Holt's control snapped, his growl vibrating through the air. "Threaten my pack again, Thomas, and you won't walk out of here. She's staying, and if Jason wants her, he can come himself, not send his errand boy with a smirk and a bad attitude."
Thomas's chuckle was low, chilling, his eyes dancing with amusement. "Errand boy? Ouch, Holt, that stings. But fine, play hardball. Just remember, when Jason breaks free—and he will—he's not gonna care about your friend's sob story or your noble stand. He'll burn this place down, and that girl's scent will lead him right to her. Tick-tock, alpha."
Before Holt could retort, a snarl ripped through the night, and Kael burst from the stronghold, his silver eyes blazing, his claws already extended. The guards' attempts to restrain him had failed, his beast a storm of rage and protectiveness. Holt cursed, stepping between them, but Kael's gaze locked on Thomas, his fury a palpable heat.
Kael's POV
Kael's blood roared, the bond pulsing in his chest, a lifeline to the woman lying half-dead inside. At 43, he'd spent decades alone, he'd sworn he'd never settle, never risk that pain, no matter how the years piled on, no matter how the pack whispered he was too old for a fated mate. Now, after all that emptiness, he'd found her—his mate, bruised and broken, her scent a primal fire that had driven Jason's pack to madness and ignited a bond he'd never thought possible. And this smirking Beta thought he could take her away.
"You're not touching her," Kael snarled, his voice a guttural promise, his beast clawing at his restraint. Thomas's smile didn't falter, his eyes glinting with that unhinged amusement, but he raised his hands in mock surrender.
"Easy, big guy," Thomas drawled, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "No need to get all growly. Just here to pick up Jason's Luna, that's all. You know, the one with the scent that's got everyone in a tizzy? Nothing personal."
Kael's laugh was a jagged, bitter sound, his claws flexing. "Nothing personal? You think I give a fuck about your pact or your alpha's whining? She's mine, you bastard, not some toy for Jason to claim."
Thomas tilted his head, his grin widening, mock sympathy oozing from him. "Oh, that's tragic, Kael, really. But let's be real—your little bond? Probably just her scent messing with you. Jason's mark's on her, and trust me, it's not coming off. You're fighting a losing battle, pal."
Kael's beast surged, his vision tunneling, the bond roaring in his chest, her faint heartbeat a drum in his ears. He didn't think, didn't hesitate. His fist shot out, slamming into Thomas's jaw with a sickening crack, sending the Beta staggering back, blood spraying from his lip. "She's mine," Kael roared, his voice shaking the air, his claws itching to tear into Thomas, to rip apart anyone who dared come for her. "I'll burn your pack to the ground before I let you take her."
Holt grabbed Kael's arm, his grip like iron, his voice a low snarl. "Enough, Kael!" But Kael thrashed, his beast wild, the bond pulsing with her presence, her pain, her fragility. Thomas wiped the blood from his mouth, his smile returning, chillingly calm, his eyes promising retribution.
"Big mistake, Kael," Thomas said, his voice soft, almost cheerful, as he backed toward the trees. "Enjoy your little moment, because it's gonna cost you." He vanished into the shadows, his scent lingering like a promise of bloodshed.
Kael's chest heaved, his beast still raging, the bond a fire in his veins. He turned back to the stronghold, ignoring Holt's glare, his only thought her—his mate, fighting for her life inside.
Holt stormed after him, flanked by wolves. "You broke the pact, Kael," he snarled. "You attacked Thomas, brought her here, and now Jason's pack will come for blood" Kael's beast surged, his claws extending. "You can't take this from me" he growled. "I'd burn this world down for her, Holt, something you'll never understand."
Holt signaled the wolves, and they grabbed Kael's arms, but Kael thrashed, his beast needing to reach her. The doctors worked frantically, her form barely visible, and his fear deepened, a dread that she wouldn't survive. Suddenly, a sharp, searing pain lanced through his chest, right over his heart, as if a blade had been driven into him. Kael gasped, stumbling, his vision blurring, the bond twisting, fraying, like a rope snapping thread by thread. Her heartbeat—her faint, stubborn pulse—was gone."No," he whispered, his voice breaking, the pain spreading, a void opening where the bond had been. The doctors shouted, their voices rising in panic—"She's flatlining!"—and Kael's beast roared, a primal, anguished sound that shook the walls. The bond was breaking, her heart stopping, and with it, his world was crumbling. He lunged, his claws slashing, desperate to reach her, to hold her, to bring her back. "Let me go!" he bellowed, his voice raw, tearing from his throat.