The word hung between us like fog. A beginning.
But beginnings could be messy.
The silence that followed wasn't uncomfortable. If anything, it was the first moment that felt… real. The tension that had gripped my chest since I'd met him loosened slightly. I could breathe.
Alpha Ash — or Ash, as I decided to start calling him in my mind — stood tall, yet more human now than Alpha. His gaze still held the weight of command, but there was a softness behind it. Not weakness — something else. Pain, maybe.
I dropped my eyes, embarrassed by the intensity of everything swirling in the air between us.
"I'll have someone escort you back to your room," he said finally. "You should rest."
I nodded, but as I turned to leave, his voice stopped me again.
"Aria?"
I glanced over my shoulder.
"I meant what I said. I won't force anything. But I won't walk away either."
I swallowed hard. "I know."
The room they'd given me was small but warm. A fireplace glowed in the corner, and the bed was ridiculously soft — far too luxurious for a girl who'd grown up sleeping on straw mattresses in her uncle's cabin.
I sat on the edge, letting the moment sink in. This place, this pack, this bond — it was all too much. I had come to the Bloodstone territory with one goal: survival. Not destiny. Not mates. Not war or power struggles or whatever it was that kept tugging at my instincts.
But now everything was shifting.
I ran my fingers over the old scar on my wrist — the one I got the night my wolf first surfaced. That night, I hadn't known what was happening. Just pain and fear. But now… it felt like a symbol. Proof that I'd survived.
There was a soft knock at the door.
"Come in."
A girl stepped in — tall, with mocha skin, curly dark hair, and a proud posture. She wore a sash that marked her as part of the warrior class.
"I'm Kira," she said. "Ash asked me to keep an eye on you."
I blinked. "Bodyguard?"
She grinned. "Let's call it… friendly protection. You're not exactly popular around here."
I frowned. "Because I'm an outsider?"
"Because you're his outsider."
Right. The Alpha's maybe-mate.
I folded my arms. "Do you always speak your mind like that?"
"Only when I think someone can handle it." She leaned against the doorframe. "Come on. You've been cooped up long enough. Let me show you the training grounds. Maybe you'll stop pacing like a caged wolf."
I hesitated, but curiosity won. I followed her into the hallway, which pulsed with energy — laughter, footsteps, and the scent of fresh bread floating from the kitchens.
"Is Ash always this… intense?" I asked.
Kira raised a brow. "He lost a lot. Family. Friends. Trust. Intensity keeps him alive."
We walked in silence for a bit before she added, "But he smiled at you. I've never seen him do that."
I didn't respond. I wasn't sure I understood it either.
The training grounds were massive — a cleared stretch of land surrounded by tall trees, with weapons racks, dummies, and sparring circles etched into the dirt.
Wolves shifted in and out of human form as they practiced, muscles rippling, fur flying.
"Do you fight?" Kira asked.
I nodded. "Not for fun."
"Good." She tossed me a wooden staff. "Then it'll feel familiar."
We sparred. At first, she tested me — slow strikes, easy dodges. But as I met her movements with speed and precision, something flickered in her eyes. Respect, maybe. Or recognition.
We moved in sync, blow for blow, like we'd done it before.
After ten minutes, we dropped the staffs, panting.
"You fight like someone who's had to survive," she said.
"I have."
A low growl rumbled from the woods.
We both turned.
Out of the shadows stepped a man — not in wolf form, but something worse. His clothes were torn, his eyes red-rimmed, and there was a smell to him — sour, dark, wrong.
"Rogue," Kira hissed, stepping in front of me.
More figures emerged from the tree line.
Not one. Not two. At least five.
My heart began to pound. Rogues didn't travel in groups. Unless…
Unless they were organized.
Kira shifted with a growl, her midnight-black wolf emerging in a flash. I dropped to one knee, letting my wolf surge up.
But before we could strike, a deafening roar echoed across the grounds.
Ash.
He landed in the middle of the clearing with terrifying speed, already in wolf form — massive, silver-black, glowing with Alpha power.
The rogues hesitated.
That was their mistake.
In seconds, it was chaos. Fur, teeth, blood. Screams. I joined the fight, dodging a swipe meant to take my throat, sinking my teeth into a rogue's flank.
But something felt off. These weren't wild attacks. They were coordinated. Controlled.
One of them — a tall, scarred rogue with yellow eyes — was watching Ash. Not fighting. Observing.
Like he was studying him.
And then he looked straight at me.
He didn't attack.
He smiled.
It was over quickly.
The rogues were either dead or gone. The yellow-eyed one had vanished before I could shift back.
Ash stood in the middle of the carnage, fur matted with blood, chest heaving.
"What the hell was that?" I asked once I was human again.
He didn't answer at first.
Then: "A warning."
"From who?"
He looked at the place where the yellow-eyed rogue had stood.
"I don't know. But he's not done."
That night, sleep didn't come easy.
I kept seeing those eyes. That smile. The way he chose not to attack.
Why?
Sometime near dawn, I got up and walked outside. The woods were quiet. Too quiet.
I followed a strange scent — faint, but not unfamiliar. Something earthy, burnt, and cold all at once.
I moved deeper, my wolf pacing inside me.
Then I saw it.
A mark — burned into the bark of a tree.
A spiral, surrounded by claw marks.
I reached out to touch it—
And a hand clamped over my mouth from behind.
I tried to scream, but the voice whispered in my ear before I could shift.
"Careful, little wolf. Some bonds were never meant to be found."