Chapter 16 Alden
ALDEN
The clearing still vibrates from the blast.
Dust hangs in the air, drifting through torchlight like ash.
Wolves shout over each other, voices sharp and uneven, the kind of noise that comes from instinct instead of order.
Brynn stands upright near the central stone, staff braced, her gaze moving fast as she tries to steady a room full of predators suddenly reminded they can bleed.
“Hold the line,” Ciaran barks, palms out as he forces distance between younger wolves and the treeline. “Nobody shifts, and nobody runs blind.”
Marek drags an elder to his feet with a hard grip on the man’s elbow. Lydia is already calling for scouts to locate the source of the explosion. Gideon stands too composed, head tilted as if he is measuring reaction instead of sharing it.
I should stay. I should give the next command.
I feel it before anyone says her name.
Fear.
Not the pack’s scattered fear. Not the council’s alarm. Something sharper slices through my chest, sudden and intimate, like a hand closing around my ribs from the inside. My breath catches, and my wolf slams forward, furious and certain.
Cassidy.
The bond tightens hard, pulling my focus away from the clearing and toward the forest beyond. It is not a thought. It is a physical sensation, a violent certainty that she is running and terrified and not safe.
Ciaran’s voice cuts through again. “Alpha, we need—”
I am already moving.
My boots scrape stone as I push past the circle, ignoring the murmurs behind me. Ciaran reaches for my shoulder, his hand grazing my sleeve, but I shrug him off without slowing.
“Alden,” he snaps, sharper now. “Do not—”
I shift before he finishes the sentence.
Bone and muscle surge, the world snapping into sharper lines as my wolf takes over.
The smells of dust and fear and sweat become vivid, layered, and I launch out of the clearing in a blur of black fur and fury.
Behind me, I hear Ciaran shouting orders, then shouting my name, then losing it to distance.
The estate falls away fast.
Trees swallow the torchlight, replacing it with shadow and cold air. The ground rises and dips under my paws, roots and stone and slick leaves, but I do not slow. The bond pulls like a tether, guiding me the way scent would, only stronger.
Cassidy’s fear spikes again.
I run harder.
The smoke hits before the cabin comes into view.
It pours through the trees in thick waves, stinging my nose, coating the back of my throat. It blunts everything I rely on, flattening scents into a harsh wall of burned wood and resin. My heart thunders as I break through a stand of firs and see the cabin.
Flames lick up one corner of the porch. A window is shattered outward, black soot streaking the frame. The roofline smolders, smoke roiling up in heavy coils that drift into the canopy. The sight jerks my rage sharp, but it also brings a cold frustration, because the smoke smothers the air.
I cannot smell her. I cannot smell the rogue either.
I circle the cabin once, fast and low, nose skimming the ground where ash and damp dirt mix into sludge.
There is the faint bite of bear spray, burned sharp into the air like a chemical warning.
There are claw marks carved into porch boards, deep enough to splinter wood, but the smoke drowns everything else.
Cassidy is not here.
My ears catch it then. Crashing brush. Rapid footfalls.
A human heartbeat running hard enough to rattle branches. Another set of heavier impacts behind it, faster than a human should be able to move. The sounds cut through smoke and rage, clean and directional, pulling me away from the burning cabin.
I launch toward the noise.
My paws dig into loose soil as I climb, muscles burning with the incline. Pine needles scatter under my weight, and sap stings the cuts on my pads, but I do not slow. The bond pulls forward, her fear and adrenaline surging like a beacon through my chest.
I hear her stumble, but she catches herself. Then her breath breaks into a sharp gasp that turns my blood to fire.
The brush ahead explodes.
I break into a small clearing just as the rogue wolf bursts out of the smoke-thinned trees. Its coat is streaked with soot, eyes bright, movement too controlled to be mindless. Cassidy appears a heartbeat later, sprinting hard, hair loose and wild, face pale.
She tries to pivot, but her boot skids on damp leaves.
The rogue slams into her from the side.
She hits the ground with a rough thud, breath leaving her in a sharp burst. The wolf’s front paws pin her shoulders, claws digging into fabric as it lowers its head toward her throat.
My mate. Pinned. Touched.
Rage detonates through me.
I do not think. I do not measure. I surge forward with a snarl that rips out of my chest like a weapon. The rogue’s head jerks up at the sound, ears flicking back, but it does not have time to move.
I collide with it in a brutal crash.
My jaws clamp onto its neck, teeth locking into fur and skin with violent certainty. The taste of soot and blood floods my mouth. The rogue twists hard, trying to break my grip, claws scraping my shoulder as it bucks and snarls.
We roll across the clearing.
Dirt and leaves fly.
I drive my weight into it, forcing it away from Cassidy, forcing it to feel my strength and my claim. The rogue snaps at my face, teeth flashing, and I answer with a growl that shakes my ribs, tightening my jaws until the muscles in my neck burn.
It thrashes again, stronger than most wolves, and the fight explodes into a vicious tangle of bites and claws.
Its claws rake across my shoulder as we slam through the underbrush, teeth snapping inches from my muzzle.
I twist hard and drive my weight into its ribs, forcing it sideways across the leaf-slick ground.
The clearing fills with the sound of snarls and tearing brush, the violence sharp enough to make the trees seem to lean away.
Then the forest answers with bootsteps and pawfalls.
Wolves break through the treeline in both directions, drawn by the noise and the scent of blood.
I catch flashes of familiar faces in my peripheral vision, pack enforcers fanning out along the clearing edge.
Mixed among them are harder stares and unfamiliar postures, wolves who do not step forward to assist.
Not all of them are mine.
The rogue has his own loyalists.
He twists beneath my grip with sudden ferocity, hind legs driving hard against my chest. We crash apart, both of us landing in low, braced stances, chests heaving. Across the clearing, Cassidy pushes onto one elbow, dazed but conscious, her scent sharp with adrenaline.
She’s too exposed and too vulnerable.
My wolf surges forward again, but this time instinct collides with strategy.
I can end the fight, but not before more witnesses arrive.
The council will hear about this within minutes.
Gideon will dissect every movement, every choice, every hesitation involving the human biologist already under scrutiny.
Cassidy cannot remain unclaimed in the middle of this.
The realization locks into place with cold clarity.
The rogue lunges again, teeth flashing.
I meet the attack head-on, but instead of driving for the throat, I pivot hard and slam my shoulder into its chest. The impact knocks it sideways, buying a fraction of space. In the same motion, I force the shift partially upward, bones grinding as muscle and skin begin to rearrange.
Pain flares hot.
I ignore it.
Fur recedes along my shoulders and arms, hands reforming enough for grip while my lower body and teeth remain wolf-steady. It is not a clean shift, but it does not need to be. I need speed, not elegance.
Cassidy looks up just as I move.
Her eyes widen slightly, confusion and relief colliding in her expression. She starts to push herself upright, breath still ragged from the tackle. The rogue regains its footing behind me, claws digging into the dirt as it prepares to launch again.
I reach her first.
My hand-paws close around the back of her neck, firm but controlled, pulling her toward me. She inhales sharply, the sound soft and startled, and her fingers catch briefly at my shoulder for balance.
“Alden—”
I do not give her time to finish. My teeth sink into the side of her neck.
The world narrows to the bond.
Heat slams through me the instant skin breaks, sharp and electric, the mate bond roaring fully awake in a way it has only hinted at before. Cassidy gasps against me, the sound breaking into something softer as her body arches instinctively into the contact.
Mine.
The word is not spoken aloud, but it reverberates through every nerve I have.
Her hands slide up, fingers tangling briefly at the back of my neck as if pulled by the same force. The scent of her shifts immediately, sweet and bright and unmistakably marked by me now. For one dangerous second, everything else falls away.
Cassidy makes a soft, breathless sound against my shoulder, and her grip tightens before her body suddenly slackens. Her weight drops heavily into my arms as consciousness gives way beneath the impact of the bite.
The clearing goes dead silent.
I lift my head slowly, breath rough, senses snapping back into brutal clarity. Across the clearing, the rogue has gone still, golden eyes fixed on us with something that looks dangerously close to understanding.
Then it bolts.
It vanishes into the treeline in a blur of dark fur and flying leaves, using the heartbeat of distraction I gave it. Several wolves start forward instinctively, but none move fast enough to intercept. The forest swallows the rogue whole.
No one speaks.
Pack wolves stare openly now, shock plain across their faces. Even the unfamiliar wolves at the perimeter have gone rigid, attention locked on the mark fresh on Cassidy’s throat and the way her scent now carries my claim.
Ciaran breaks through the treeline seconds later, chest heaving, eyes taking in the scene in one sharp sweep.
“Well,” he mutters under his breath.
I do not answer.
Cassidy is limp in my arms, breathing steady but unconscious, her head tipped against my shoulder. The mark at her neck stands out stark against her skin, already darkening as the bond settles into place.
There is no undoing this, no matter how much Gideon might protest.
Murmurs begin at the furthest edge of the gathered wolves, low and stunned.
“You marked her.”
“That was not—”
“Alpha…”
I tune them out.
My hold on Cassidy tightens slightly as I shift fully back toward human, ignoring the ache in half-settled muscles. Her weight settles more naturally against my chest, light enough to carry but heavy enough to remind me exactly what I just set into motion.
Ciaran steps closer, voice pitched low. “You just detonated the council.”
“I am aware,” I reply.
Ciaran exhales slowly, then turns toward the watching wolves. “Clear the perimeter. Track the rogue as far as you can. I want eyes on every ridge between here and the boundary.”
The pack moves quickly at his command, shock giving way to trained response. Boots pound dirt, wolves peeling off in coordinated groups as the clearing begins to empty.
I adjust Cassidy more securely in my arms and turn toward the estate.