Chapter 10 Alden
ALDEN
The report reaches me before dawn settles fully over the ridge.
A young patrol runner enters the hall with mud on his boots and tension written plainly across his face. He does not wait for permission to speak, which tells me the message carries weight.
“Alpha, a ranch dog was killed,” he says. “East pasture, near the Pritchard fence line. The body was left in clear view of the road.”
Ciaran steps in behind him, already assessing the implications. “Was it fed on?” he asks.
The runner shakes his head. “No feeding. The throat was torn. The body was mutilated.”
The answer tightens something in my chest. A deer is a warning to us. A pet is a message to humans.
“Lock down the east boundary,” I tell the runner. “Double patrol pairs and shift them closer to the road. No wolf moves alone.”
He nods sharply and leaves.
Ciaran watches the doorway a moment longer. “A ranch dog brings rifles,” he says quietly.
“Yes,” I reply. “And anger.”
The pack feels the shift before I call it. Doors open. Footsteps gather. The air thickens with unease. News travels fast in stone halls.
“Call a council meeting” I say.
Ciaran nods and moves ahead to summon them.
By the time I enter the stone clearing, the elders are already seated around the long stone table. Brynn rests her staff across her knees, expression calm but alert. Marek’s broad hands are clasped tightly in front of him. Lydia’s gaze is sharp and calculating. Ronan sits rigid, shoulders squared.
Gideon arrives last, measured and composed as always.
“What happened,” Brynn asks before anyone else can speak.
Ciaran steps forward. “A ranch dog was killed on Pritchard land. The body was staged near the road.”
Marek exhales slowly. “That is deliberate.”
“It is escalation,” Lydia adds.
Gideon folds his hands loosely on his lap. “Pets carry names,” he says. “Families grieve them differently.”
Silence follows that observation. No one needs the rest of the thought spelled out.
“They will organize,” Ronan says. “Hunters, perhaps deputies.”
“They will cross into our terrain,” Marek continues.
“And they will not distinguish shifter from wild wolf,” Lydia finishes.
Ciaran looks to me. “Outer patrols were already tightened. We can compress the eastern rotations further.”
“Do it,” I say. “No wolf approaches the town road alone.”
Gideon studies me carefully. “You have already compressed the patrol grid,” he says. “And still this happened.”
The implication hangs in the air.
“The rogue is accelerating,” I reply. “This is meant to provoke retaliation.”
Gideon tilts his head slightly. “Or it is meant to expose weakness.”
Marek shifts in his seat. “Weakness where?”
Gideon’s gaze does not leave mine. “In leadership priorities.”
Ciaran straightens. “Are you trying to say something?”
Gideon’s tone remains even. “Patrol routes were adjusted recently. A human was brought in to analyze our internal schedules. That shift may have created instability.”
My wolf presses forward, even when I exert all my restraint. He wanted to bring Cassidy into the mix, and I couldn’t let her become a target. His vendetta against her involvement agitated my wolf, and by extension, me.
“The patrol gaps existed before her involvement,” I say. “She identified them.”
“And while we debated secrecy,” Gideon replies, “a ranch dog died.”
Lydia leans forward slightly. “The human’s presence is disruptive.”
Brynn’s staff taps once against stone. “We will not assign blame without evidence.”
Gideon turns toward her. “Evidence is mounting in blood.”
Ronan’s jaw tightens. “We cannot fracture during escalation.”
“Then we confirm strength,” Gideon says smoothly. “We vote on leadership.”
Marek nods once. “A leadership vote would reassure the pack.”
Lydia’s gaze sharpens. “If confidence remains, it will hold.”
They still do not know Cassidy is my mate. They only see proximity, influence, and deviation from tradition.
I rise slowly, placing both hands on the stone table. The clearing quiets without my voice needing to rise.
“You call for a vote during an active threat,” I say.
Gideon meets my gaze without flinching. “We call for stability.”
“Stability requires continuity,” I reply. “And pack law governs when continuity may be challenged.”
Brynn watches me closely now. She’s seen more than a few leadership votes in her time.
“The Alpha Authority Clause prevents leadership votes while the pack faces an active external threat,” I continue. “We have a rogue escalating toward human retaliation. That qualifies.”
Marek frowns. “That clause is invoked rarely.”
“It exists for moments like this,” I answer.
Gideon leans back slightly, fingers steepled. “You wish to delay accountability.”
“I enforce a necessary law,” I reply.
The tension tightens, then shifts.
Brynn nods once. “The clause is valid. The vote cannot proceed.”
Ronan exhales quietly. Marek does not look pleased, but he does not argue further.
Gideon’s composure cracks just enough to reveal irritation beneath the surface. He smooths it quickly.
“You can invoke law,” he says. “You cannot silence concern.”
“I do not intend to silence it,” I reply. “I intend to resolve the threat, and when I do, there will be no need for a vote.”
His gaze holds mine a moment longer. “Then resolve it quickly.”
Ciaran steps forward. “Council is dismissed.”
Chairs scrape against stone as the elders rise. They leave in controlled silence, but their posture speaks clearly. The fracture is not healed, only postponed.
Gideon lingers a fraction longer near the doorway. He inclines his head and exits without another word.
When the clearing empties, the echo of boots fades slowly against stone. The chamber empties, but the fracture it revealed does not. Inside, the pressure continues to build within the pack. I need to stay on top of this.
Kieran Rourke strides into my office with two enforcers close behind him, patrol jackets still carrying the scent of road dust and engine exhaust. His posture is straight, jaw set tight enough to signal trouble before he speaks.
The enforcers close the door behind them and remain standing, eyes alert.
“The town is mobilizing,” Kieran says. “Ranchers are organizing armed patrols along their property lines. They are talking about sweeping the woods for predators.”
“How coordinated,” I ask.
“More than rumor,” he replies. “I saw rifles in truck racks and ammunition cases being loaded. The feed store parking lot is full.”
One of the enforcers adds, “They are angry, Alpha. The dog had a collar. Children found it first.”
The detail tightens something beneath my ribs, though I keep my expression neutral. A deer kill unsettles ranchers; a pet kill ignites them.
“They believe the threat is inside our boundary,” Kieran continues.
Ciaran crosses his arms, gaze narrowing. “Daylight patrols are one risk. Night sweeps are worse.”
“They will not respect boundaries in the dark,” the second enforcer says.
I nod once, already adjusting scenarios. “No wolf shifts within two miles of the east road. Patrol rotations move deeper into tree cover. Anyone near town remains in human form.”
Kieran studies my face for a moment. “That limits rapid response if the rogue strikes again.”
“It does,” I reply. “But exposure risk outweighs speed.”
Ciaran steps closer to the map and traces the eastern boundary with his finger. “We can reroute outer patrols through the western ravine. It adds time but reduces visibility from town.”
“Do it,” I say. “And issue direct orders to disengage if fired upon. No wolf escalates contact.”
Kieran’s expression flickers, acknowledging how thin that margin is. “Frightened humans shoot first,” he says quietly.
“And reckless wolves finish it,” I answer. “We will not give them that excuse.”
Before he can respond, my phone vibrates sharply against the desk. The sound cuts through the tension like a snapped branch. Ciaran and Kieran both glance toward it as I step back and check the screen.
Cassidy.
I answer immediately, my heart rate climbing just at the sight of her name. I shoo everyone but Ciaran out of the office with a flick of my wrist before answering.
“What happened,” I say.
Her voice carries urgency but not panic. “Sheriff Graves met with the town council this morning. They voted to authorize armed patrols onto private land adjacent to town. Blackmoore property is included.”
“They do not have jurisdiction without consent,” I reply.
“They are framing it as public safety,” she says. “Graves believes he can request cooperation, and if that fails, they will justify entry as an emergency response.”
The legal maneuvering is predictable, and annoying.
“When do they begin,” I ask.
“Tonight,” she answers. “They are already organizing teams.”
I turn toward the window and look down the slope where the forest thins near the east road. The canopy is dense, but headlights will still bleed through after dark.
“Where are you,” I ask.
“Near the lower boundary,” she replies. “I confirmed the vote before calling.”
“Return to the estate immediately,” I say. “You will not remain exposed.”
She exhales softly. “I can handle myself.”
“This is not about competence,” I answer, keeping my tone controlled. “It is about unpredictability.”
There is a pause on the line.
“They will escalate quickly,” she says. “Armed civilians in the woods rarely move cautiously.”
“I am aware,” I reply.
“I am heading back,” she says finally. “But Alden, this will complicate everything.”
The call ends.
I lower the phone slowly and meet Ciaran’s gaze.
“They have authorization,” I say. “Full sweeps.”
His mouth tightens. “That pushes us into daylight concealment. And night restraint.”
Another knock sounds at the door, more hurried this time.
“Enter,” I call.
A younger wolf steps in, breathing fast but trying to remain composed. “Alpha, three trucks are already patrolling the east access road. Rifles visible in racks. They are stopping at trailheads.”
Ciaran moves to the window beside me and peers through the trees. “They are not waiting for nightfall.”
The situation sharpens into clarity.
“Full alert,” I say. The words settle with weight, not panic. “Pack-wide notification,” I continue. “Double the inner boundary reinforcement. No shifting near visible roads under any circumstances.”
“That’s hard to enforce,” Ciaran warned.
I grimaced. He wasn’t wrong. “I want warnings when humans cross too deep,” I add. “If they continue, redirect them without exposure.”
“I’ll update the enforcers,” Ciaran says. “But Alden, you know if we have an internal breach, the rogue will know we are locking down and will use this opportunity to insight chaos.
“We mitigate it as best we can,” I say. “And perhaps gain new leads as to who is causing the breach.”
Ciaran nods and moves toward the door to relay commands.
As evening settles, headlights flicker through the lower tree line. Engines rumble faintly, carrying the metallic scent of exhaust uphill. Through the glass, I see silhouettes moving along the fence line, rifles slung over shoulders, gestures sharp and agitated.
A single gunshot cracks through the forest. The sound reverberates across the ridge and into the valley below. A second shot follows minutes later, then another, each echo rolling over the trees like distant thunder.
My wolf presses hard against restraint. We should be out there protecting the pack, hunting these hunters. But I can’t risk exposing the pack.
Every shot could mean a spooked deer. It could mean a warning fired into the air. It could mean a bullet traveling far beyond its intended mark.
Another shot cracks in the distance, followed by shouts too faint to distinguish.
The forest does not belong to us tonight. It does not belong to them either. It belongs to tension, to fear, and to the rogue who understands both.
I remain in the office long after the mansion quiets. Patrol reports filter in through secure channels, measured and disciplined. No wolf has been exposed. No wolf has engaged.
For now, the line holds.
Outside, the gunshots fade into sporadic echoes as darkness deepens. Inside, I keep watch, knowing the next move will not come from town.
It will come from the one who benefits most from the chaos.