Page 3

The weight of the Alpha ring is heavy on my finger as I scan through another report of border incursions.

Six months into leadership, and I'm still not used to it—the constant responsibility, the endless decisions, the way every pack member's eyes track my movements.

My father made this look effortless. Then again, he'd had decades to perfect his role.

I got thrust into it when a heart attack took him mid-run three days after the Spring equinox.

I’d expected to have at least another decade to prepare. But nothing happens in the way you prepare for it, too—that’s something the job taught me fast.

Morning light streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the pack headquarters' top floor, warming the dark wood panels and illuminating the territory spread out below.

Silvercreek is beautiful in autumn, the forest a riot of red and gold stretching to the mountains.

From up here, I can see most of the town—the shops opening for the day, kids heading to school, pack members going about their lives.

All of them depend on me to keep them safe.

My office, once my father's, still smells faintly of his preferred whiskey and leather chairs.

I've changed little since taking over—kept the heavy mahogany desk, the wall of leather- bound pack records, the collection of territorial maps dating back to our founding.

Added my own touch with a state-of-the-art computer system and security monitors, trying to bridge tradition and progress.

Some days, it feels like I'm playing dress-up in his space.

Other days, the responsibility crushes like a physical weight.

My wolf paces restlessly inside me, agitated by the reports and the confinement. He doesn't like being trapped in meetings and paperwork when there are threats to face. Sometimes I agree with him.

A knock at my door interrupts my brooding. "Enter."

James Morgan strides in, looking annoyingly awake for this hour.

He's been my friend since we were pups wrestling in the training yard, long before I became Alpha or he became Head of Security.

Now, he's one of my most trusted advisors, even if his smirk sometimes makes me want to knock him down a peg.

"You look like shit," he announces cheerfully, dropping into one of the leather chairs across from my desk. "Late night with the border reports?"

I grunt in response, pushing aside a stack of papers. "Some of us actually work for a living, Morgan."

"Hey, I work! Just got back from the northern perimeter. All quiet, but..." He hesitates, something flickering behind his eyes. "There's definitely movement out there. Getting closer."

My wolf bristles at the threat to our territory. "The Cheslem Pack?"

"Seems likely. Though, there's something different about their patterns lately. More purposeful." He stretches, casual except for the tension in his shoulders. "Interesting timing, with the lottery coming up."

There's something he's not saying. James has been oddly quiet about the lottery preparations, despite his position requiring involvement. Now I know why—his sister is coming home, the sister he doesn’t talk to anymore. He must have known for days, probably helped arrange it.

The urge to ask about her burns in my throat, but I swallow it back. That's not my right anymore.

"Speaking of work," I say instead, "don't you have somewhere to be?"

"Probably. But watching your brood is so much more entertaining." His grin fades slightly. "Seriously though, Nic. You've been pushing yourself too hard lately. The pack notices."

"The pack needs—"

"The pack needs an Alpha who doesn't look like he's carrying the weight of the world alone.

" James leans forward, all traces of teasing gone.

"You're doing good work. Better than anyone expected so soon after... everything. But you need to let us help more. And you know Thomas will force your hand into accepting that help if you don’t take it on your own—he won’t tolerate your martyr complex. "

I start to protest, riling a little at the implication that my Second would usurp my authority like that, but another knock cuts me off.

As if summoned, Thomas himself enters with yet another stack of papers, his efficiently pressed suit a stark contrast to James's casual ranger uniform.

He must not be long back from his outing with Dynastes and the trainees.

"The final lottery preparations are ready," he announces, adding to my desk's chaos. "Elder Victoria wants to review the ceremonial arrangements with you before—"

A commotion in the street below catches my attention. My wolf suddenly surges forward, nearly taking control as a familiar scent drifts through the open window. Lavender. Sage. Magic.

Luna.

I'm at the window before I realize I've moved, eyes locked on the figure emerging from a black SUV from which the others have already vanished.

The first thing I think, absurdly, is that she looks very lonely like that, standing in the glaring sunlight, staring around as if she has no idea where to turn now.

Five years haven't changed her essential grace; she holds herself straight and proud despite everything.

Her copper hair catches the sunlight as she steps onto the sidewalk, longer now and falling in curls down her back.

The simple dress she wears hugs curves that have only grown more lush, more womanly.

My wolf howls with recognition, a mournful croon. Mate. Ours.

I silence him with practiced control, even as my fingers press against the glass.

She looks lost, uncomfortable, yet somehow more confident than when she left.

The city has changed her. She carries herself like someone who knows her worth now, no longer the uncertain girl who used to slip through pack gatherings trying to avoid attention.

Behind me, James has gone very still. I don't need to look to know he's watching his sister's return, to feel the complex mix of emotions rolling off him. Pride. Worry. Guilt.

"Well," he says finally, voice carefully neutral. "Guess the prodigal daughter returns."

It’s an awful joke, and no one laughs. The last time Luna was here, she was despised. No one in their right mind would ever have prioritized her over James, her far more favored brother, the popular, well-liked friend to the Alpha’s son.

My wolf snarls at his tone, though there's no real censure in it. James has always been caught between pack duty and family loyalty where Luna is concerned. I'm not the only one who carries regrets about her departure.

"Nic?" Thomas's voice seems to come from far away. "She said she needed a minute in the car. Should I go down to—"

"Yes." The word comes out rougher than I intend. I clear my throat. "Yes, escort her to the guest quarters. Make sure she's comfortable."

Go yourself , my wolf demands. Claim her. Fix what you broke.

But I can't. The memory of our last night together burns too fresh, despite the years between then and now. The look in her eyes when I rejected her publicly, when I chose pack politics over what we had.

What kind of Alpha would I be if I couldn't even face one shiftless woman?

A coward, my wolf snarls.

Below, Luna turns in a slow circle, taking in the changes to the town square. The old fountain has been replaced with a more modern design, the shops have been renovated, but the essence of Silvercreek remains the same. I wonder if she sees it as a prison now, after tasting freedom.

The sound of James rising pulls my attention back.

"I should go help with the... arrangements. Greet her. We haven’t talked in a long while, but I missed her." He pauses at the door. "But I know she’s different now, Nic. Stronger. Don't expect her to be the same girl who left."

I know, I want to say. No one could have gone through what she did and come out unchanged.

Instead, I just nod. James leaves, and at my back, Thomas clears his throat.

"Before I go… there’s something else." He hesitates, which immediately sets me on edge. He never hesitates. "The border patrol found fresh tracks this morning. Not just passing through this time, but… setting up a vantage point, over the north ridge. They've been watching us."

I force my attention away from Luna, though my wolf fights me. "The Cheslem Pack?"

"The scent markers match previous incursions. They're getting bolder." Thomas spreads out a map on my desk, pointing to marked locations. "Here, here, and here. They're testing our defenses, looking for weaknesses."

A growl builds in my chest. The Cheslem Pack has been a shadow on our borders for months now, testing our defenses, picking off lone wolves from smaller packs. No one knows what they want, but their presence feels connected to the growing unease that prompted the Council to invoke the lottery.

"Double the patrols," I order. "I want every inch of our territory checked hourly. And Thomas?" I catch his arm as he turns to leave. "Don't mention this to anyone yet. Especially not to the lottery candidates. We don’t want to spread needless panic at a moment like this.”

Especially not to Luna, goes unspoken. She has enough reasons to hate being back without adding the threat of rogue wolves to her worries.

Thomas nods and slips out, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my wolf's increasing agitation.

Below, Luna has disappeared into the guest house, but her scent lingers.

It takes every ounce of control not to follow it, to not bound down the stairs and beg her forgiveness for choices made by a younger, stupider version of myself.