Chapter 6 Alden
ALDEN
She cocks her head, eyes fixed on me, then jerks her chin toward the truck.
“Hold on.”
I remain where I am, listening to the tree line while she jogs down the porch steps. Gravel shifts under her boots. The passenger door creaks open. Something metallic clatters around inside the cab.
She returns with a pair of gray sweatpants draped over her arm.
“Field tech left them last season,” she says, extending them toward me. “You can thank him later.”
I take them without brushing her hand. The fabric smells like detergent and old gasoline, a human scent that doesn’t complicate anything. I step aside, pull them on, and knot the drawstring low on my hips.
She gives me a quick once-over. “Better.”
“It’s enough.”
The rogue’s scent still hangs faintly in the air, but it’s already thinning. I don’t like how close he came, or how deliberate the approach felt. I turn my attention back to her.
“Inside,” I say.
She hesitates. “You going to explain what that was?”
“Inside.”
Her jaw tightens, but she pushes the door open and steps through. I follow immediately and shut it behind us.
The cabin is small, square, and exposed. Windows on three sides. Curtains thin. The overhead light casts too much glare onto the glass. I cross the room and kill it, letting the place fall into low lamplight.
“Hey,” she says sharply.
“Too visible,” I answer.
I check the front window first, then the side, then the narrow one above the sink. The clearing sits open and bright under the moon. Anyone watching would have had a clean view of the porch.
“Anyone who might be watching,” I add.
“That’s not comforting.”
It isn’t meant to be.
I pull one curtain halfway closed, leaving a narrow slit for visibility. Then I move to the back window and dim the lamp beside it until the cabin is mostly shadow.
The door clicks softly behind me.
The moment the space encloses us, the problem becomes obvious. Her scent saturates the air, warm and immediate. Lavender, adrenaline, and the faint copper trace from the tear in her shoulder. My wolf presses forward hard enough that my teeth feel like they’ll be forced from my gums.
Claim her.
I plant my feet and lock my posture.
She steps closer, not intimidated, not retreating. “Okay. We’re inside. You’ve checked the windows. You’ve turned off half the lights. Now you’re going to tell me what I saw.”
“No.”
She stares at me. “No.”
“You’re packing your things,” I say evenly. “You’re leaving Briar Ridge in the morning.”
Her brows rise slowly. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am.”
“That’s your solution.” She gestures toward the door. “I get attacked, and your answer is send the biologist home.”
“You’re in territory you don’t understand.”
“I handle predators for a living.”
“Not this kind.”
Her arms fold across her chest. “Then explain the difference.”
I don’t.
She waits a beat. “You don’t get to walk in here and start issuing orders.”
“I do when it concerns your safety.”
“My safety?” She gives a short, humorless laugh. “You think I’m just going to take that at face value?”
“I don’t care what you take it as,” I reply. “You’re leaving.”
She shakes her head once. “No.”
The word lands clean and steady.
I take a slow step forward. “Dr. Ellis—”
“No.” Her voice stays level. “You don’t get to command me out of my own investigation because it makes you uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable. That’s one word for it.
My gaze drops briefly to her shoulder. The fabric is torn clean through, blood darkening the cotton beneath. The rogue hurt her. My wolf does not like that.
She notices the shift in my focus. “It’s superficial.”
“That wasn’t the point.”
“Then what is the point?”
That you were seconds from being claimed or killed. Instead, I say, “The point is you don’t know what you’re getting into.”
She watches me carefully. “You knew it was coming.”
Silence.
“That wasn’t random,” she continues. “Those cameras were destroyed in sequence. The animal went straight for them. Then straight for the cabin.”
I hold her gaze but don’t confirm anything.
“You keep doing that,” she says quietly. “Ignoring direct questions.”
“Because you don’t need the answers.”
“That’s not how this works.”
“It is now.”
The wolf in my chest paces, irritated by the distance between us and furious at the risk she represents. Ciaran’s voice slides back into memory, unwelcome and persistent.
Claim her before the council finds out.
Secure the bond.
End the vulnerability.
I force my breathing steady.
She studies my face like she’s cataloging data. “You’re not even going to try to deny what happened.”
“You misinterpreted it.”
Her expression flattens. “I watched a wolf turn into you.”
“You watched something in low light after a high-adrenaline event.” For a fleeting moment, I consider invoking an ancient, memory binding law that would keep her from speaking, but I can’t do that to her.
“That’s your argument?”
“Yes.”
“Wow.” She exhales slowly and rubs a hand over her face, then drops it. “I’m not leaving town.”
“You are.”
“I’m not.”
“You don’t get a vote.”
Her chin lifts a fraction. “Watch me.”
The air shifts between us.
I close the remaining distance without thinking, stopping just short of touching her. Close enough to see the flecks of hazel in her eyes. Close enough that the mate bond hums under my skin like a live wire.
“You’re underestimating this,” I say quietly.
“And you’re underestimating me.”
It would be easier if she were afraid.
The wolf surges again, demanding action. I step back before instinct overrides reason.
“I’m not debating this,” I say. “You leave tomorrow.”
“And if I don’t?”
The question hangs there.
Instead of answering, I walk to the nearest window. Outside, the clearing is empty now, moonlight washing over disturbed gravel and broken railing. No visible movement, but that doesn’t mean no one is watching.
“Then you’re going to find out why I warned you,” I say at last.
Her silence stretches behind me.
“That’s a threat,” she says finally.
“It’s a fact.”
She takes a step toward me. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle.”
“I already did.”
Her breath hitches slightly, more frustration than fear. “You don’t own this mountain.”
I glance back at her. That’s debatable. I cross the room and reach for the door.
“That’s it?” she asks. “You show up, refuse to answer anything, tell me to leave, and walk out?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even know what I’ve already documented.”
My hand pauses on the knob. It would take very little to ask. To find out how much she’s seen, how close she is to stumbling into something irreversible. I don’t.
“Doesn’t matter,” I say. “You’re done here.” I open the door.
Cold night air spills into the cabin, cutting through the heat of the enclosed space. Distance clears my head faster than anything else could. I step onto the porch and don’t look back.
Behind me she says, steady and stubborn, “This isn’t over.”
No. It isn’t.
I descend the steps and move into the dark, putting as much space between us as possible before the bond tightens further and makes the choice for me.
The torches are already lit as I come up to the mansion.
Smoke drifts low across the stone clearing, thick and restless. The council hasn’t dispersed. They’re waiting for me to finish what I walked out on.
Ciaran meets me near the outer ring. His shirt is half-buttoned, hair still damp from a rushed shift.
“You left her,” he says quietly.
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“For now.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t press. “They’re calling it abandonment.”
“They would.”
We step into the clearing together.
Brynn stands near the central slab, staff planted firmly against stone. Marek and Lydia flank her. Ronan watches from the outer ring. Gideon stands opposite them, broad shoulders squared, expression calm in a way that feels rehearsed.
“You dismissed council mid-session,” Brynn says.
“There was a patrol signal,” I reply. “Lower forest. Near the rental cabins.”
Gideon tilts his head. “Convenient.”
“It was real.”
“And the human?” Lydia asks. “Was she part of the signal?”
“She was the target.”
A murmur ripples through the circle.
Marek steps forward slightly. “Clarify.”
“The rogue approached her cabin,” I say. “He attacked.”
“And you intervened,” Gideon adds.
“Yes.”
“How much did she see? What does she know?” Marek asks, his voice steady, despite the urgency in his question.
Lydia’s tone sharpens. “We can’t risk finding out. She cannot remain alive.”
Ciaran moves half a step behind me, but he doesn’t interrupt.
Gideon folds his arms. “You prioritized a human over a council summons. Now we learn she’s seen a shifter, and possible a lot more.”
“I prioritized containment,” I say.
“Containment would have meant eliminating the risk,” Lydia replies.
“She’s a state employee,” Ciaran cuts in evenly. “If she disappears, investigators escalate.”
“And if she speaks?” Marek asks.
“She won’t,” I answer.
Gideon’s gaze narrows. “You guarantee that?”
“I handled it.”
“How?” he asks. “Threats? Coercion? Memory binding?”
“I warned her.” If I told them she saw me shift, nothing I said could save her. Lying wasn’t ideal, but it protected her for now, as long as I could convince them she wasn’t a threat.
A few elders exchange looks that say it isn’t enough.
Ronan steps closer. “Alden, this is not personal. A potential witness to a shift is a liability. The law is clear.”
“It is,” Lydia agrees. “Execution preserves the pack.”
I don’t flinch. “She leaves tomorrow,” I say.
“That is not sufficient,” Marek replies. “She has already documented anomalies. She is mapping attack corridors.”
“She suspects a large subspecies,” Ciaran says. “Nothing supernatural.”
“Yet,” Lydia counters.
“We cannot be certain she won’t report findings that will bring more investigators,” Brynn said. The firelight flickers across Brynn’s face, deepening the lines carved by decades of winters and war. She isn’t angry. She’s calculating.
“Then she remains under my authority,” I say.
“That is not an answer,” Lydia replies.
Ronan shakes his head slightly. “You cannot shield an outsider from the consequences of our law.”
I step fully onto the central stone so my voice carries without strain. “Dr. Cassidy Ellis is placed under Temporary Alpha Protection Law,” I say. “Her safety falls under my direct authority until the rogue threat is neutralized.”
The clearing reacts before anyone speaks. Gasps. Low curses. A shift of weight across stone.
Marek straightens sharply. “That law precedes mating or war.”
“Yes,” I confirm.
“You invoke it for a human?”
I nod.
Lydia’s expression hardens. “Protection signals intent.”
“I’m aware.”
Brynn steps closer, staff tapping once against granite. “You understand the precedent you set.”
“I do.”
“You bind yourself to her fate.”
“Yes.”
The murmurs rise again, less shocked now, more unsettled.
Gideon watches me without blinking. His posture remains relaxed, but his eyes sharpen. “You shield a liability,” he says quietly. “She is neither pack nor blood.”
“She is under my authority.”
Ronan looks to Brynn. “If she violates secrecy?”
“Then the protection dissolves,” I answer before Brynn can. “And I will handle it.”
The silence stretches.
Brynn studies me long enough that the firelight shifts twice between us. She searches for doubt and finds none.
“I will not oppose the invocation,” she says at last.
Several elders stiffen. Lydia opens her mouth to argue, then stops at the lift of Brynn’s staff. Gideon remains still.
I turn my attention to him. “Objection?”
He tilts his head slightly. “You’ve made your decision.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
A faint smile touches his mouth, thin and controlled. “No objection.”
The absence lands heavier than resistance would have. The circle begins to loosen. Elders shift away from the central stone in twos and threes, conversation breaking into quieter currents.
Gideon turns first.
He doesn’t protest. He doesn’t argue. He doesn’t push for immediate challenge. He simply inclines his head slightly and steps back toward the tree line.
He disappears into shadow without another word.
Ciaran moves closer to my side once the others begin dispersing. “That was too easy.”
“Yes,” I agree. My eyes follow Gideon as he disappears. I know he has loyalists in the pack that he whispers to and who sneak around for him. His silence is unexpected and bothersome.
And I don’t trust it.