CHAPTER 6 THE ALPHA WHO WALKED AWAY
Three days passed like three years.
Eli had never been good at waiting. As an alpha—even a self-exiled one—his instinct was to act, to move, to control his environment. But waiting for Jace required a different kind of strength. The kind that felt uncomfortably like vulnerability.
He met Jace at the neutral cave as planned. The location was perfect—a shallow cavern carved into a rocky hillside, technically unclaimed by either territory. Close enough to both that neither of them had to travel dangerously far, isolated enough that they wouldn't be easily discovered.
Jace had arrived first. Eli scented him before he saw him—that intoxicating blend of sun-warmed spice and wild sweetness that made his wolf go quiet and hungry all at once.
When Eli entered the cave, Jace was already shifting from cougar to human, his cat-bright eyes tracking Eli's approach with unmistakable heat.
They'd come together with urgency that night.
Jace had limited time—his mother expected a report by dawn, and he couldn't risk raising suspicion.
So they'd fucked against the cave wall, desperate and intense, Eli's hands gripping Jace's hips hard enough to bruise while Jace gasped his name into the darkness.
It had been good. Better than good. But it had also been rushed, stolen, shadowed by the knowledge that Jace would have to leave again.
Eli had returned to his cave alone, trying not to think about how empty it felt now.
But tonight—tonight was different.
Eli was building a fire when he caught Jace's scent on the evening wind. His heart kicked hard against his ribs, hope and confusion warring in his chest. It was too soon. They'd agreed on three days between meetings to avoid suspicion. It had only been one.
He was at the cave entrance before Jace emerged from the tree line, already in human form, a small pack slung over one shoulder.
"You're early," Eli said, trying to keep his voice neutral even as relief flooded through him.
Jace's smile was tired but genuine. "I told my mother I needed more time to complete the territorial mapping. She approved an extended scouting mission." He paused at the cave entrance, suddenly uncertain. "I didn't ask permission to come here specifically. I just... I wanted to."
Eli stepped aside, letting Jace enter. "You're always welcome here."
The words felt significant as soon as he said them.
This was his den—the place he'd built specifically to keep people out, to maintain his isolation.
And now he was inviting Jace in without hesitation, without the territorial aggression that should have accompanied another predator entering his most private space.
Jace seemed to understand the weight of it. He moved slowly into the cave, his eyes taking in the sparse furnishings, the carefully organized supplies, the sleeping furs piled in the back corner. "You really do live like a monk," he said.
"I live like someone who doesn't need much," Eli corrected, but there was no heat in it.
They settled by the fire Eli had built, wrapped together in the furs.
Eli's back was against the cave wall, Jace pressed against his chest, fitting into the space between Eli's legs like he'd been designed for it.
For a long time, they just sat there, breathing together, letting the warmth of the fire and each other's presence settle into their bones.
Jace's fingers traced idle patterns on Eli's forearm. "This is nice," he murmured. "Just... being."
"Yeah," Eli agreed. "It is."
He couldn't remember the last time he'd just sat with someone like this. No agenda, no performance, no need to maintain force or prove strength. Just existing in the same space, comfortable in the silence.
Jace shifted slightly, tilting his head back to look at Eli. "Tell me about your pack."
Eli's entire body went rigid. "What?"
"Your pack," Jace repeated gently. "The one you left. I want to understand."
"Why?" The word came out harsher than Eli intended.
Jace didn't flinch. "Because you carry this weight like a stone, and I want to know what it is. Because I need to understand you, Eli. Not just the parts you show me when we're fucking. All of you."
A muscle jumped in Eli's cheek. This was the thing he didn't talk about. The thing he'd spent three years not thinking about, burying under isolation and routine and the endless cycle of patrol and hunt and sleep.
"It's not a good story," he said finally.
"I didn't think it would be." Jace's hand found Eli's, their fingers linking together. "Tell me anyway."
Eli was silent for so long that Jace probably thought he wouldn't answer. But then the words started coming, slow and painful, like pulling shrapnel from an old wound.
"You haven't met Marcus," Eli said. "My older brother."
"Your brother?" Jace's voice was careful, neutral.
"My older brother," Eli confirmed. "We grew up in the same pack. Our father was a respected fighter—strong, loyal, good at following orders. Our mother was sharp, good at strategy, always three steps ahead of everyone else. But Marcus..." He swallowed hard. "Marcus wanted power."
The fire crackled in the silence. Jace waited, patient and still against Eli's chest.
"Our alpha was Owen," Eli continued. "He was old school—strong hierarchies, clear lines of authority. Everyone knew their place. It worked, mostly. The pack was stable, well-fed, defended. But Marcus didn't want his place. He wanted Owen's place."
Eli's hand tightened around Jace's. "It started small.
Challenges for status, pushing boundaries, questioning decisions in front of the pack.
But it escalated. Marcus was strong—stronger than me, even.
And people started listening to him. Started thinking maybe he was right, maybe Owen's leadership was outdated, maybe we needed someone younger and more aggressive. "
"And you?" Jace asked.
"I was second," Eli said. "Owen's right hand. I should have shut Marcus down early, should have seen where it was going. But I didn't. Part of me thought..." He stopped, shame burning in his throat. "Part of me thought maybe Marcus was right. Maybe the pack did need to change."
Jace's thumb stroked across Eli's knuckles, a small gesture of comfort.
"One day, Marcus formally challenged for the alpha position," Eli said. "Full territorial challenge. To the death or submission." His voice dropped. "And Owen accepted."
The fight had been brutal.
Eli could still see it when he closed his eyes—two massive alphas tearing into each other in the center of the pack's gathering ground, blood staining the earth, the sound of snarling and snapping filling the air.
The entire pack had been forced to watch.
That was tradition. Everyone had to witness the challenge, had to see who was stronger, who deserved to lead.
"They fought for hours," Eli said. The words sounded hollow.
"Both of them refusing to back down. Most packs would have ended it when one submitted, but Marcus and Owen were both too stubborn, too proud.
The fight became personal. Became about ego, about who was more deserving, about pride instead of leadership. "
Jace had gone very still against him, listening intently.
"I was there," Eli continued. "I could have stopped it.
I was strong enough. I was second—I had the authority to call it off before someone died.
But I didn't." His voice cracked slightly.
"I thought maybe this was necessary. Maybe the pack did need to change.
Maybe Marcus was right, and Owen was too old, too set in his ways.
Maybe this was just... how it had to be. "
"Eli—" Jace started, but Eli kept going, needing to get it all out now that he'd started.
"By the time I realized my mistake, it was too late. Owen was dying—the old alpha had taken a wound to the throat that couldn't be healed in time. But Marcus wasn't victorious either. Owen had taken chunks from Marcus's face, blinded one of his eyes, left him scarred and broken."
Eli's hands were shaking now. Jace held them tighter.
"Marcus won the position technically," Eli said.
"But he was too damaged to lead effectively.
The pack descended into chaos. Without clear leadership from their new alpha—who was in agony, traumatized, barely functional—the structure collapsed.
The lower-ranked wolves started jockeying for position.
Fights broke out constantly. Some wolves left entirely.
Others were hurt in the power struggles. "
He took a shuddering breath. "And I did nothing. I watched my brother slowly destroy what we had, and I did nothing. I just... I couldn't be part of it anymore."
The fire had burned low. Shadows danced across the cave walls. Jace shifted, sitting up to look at Eli directly.
"What happened to Marcus?" Jace asked.
"I don't know," Eli admitted. "After a few months, I confronted him. Told him he needed to step down, that he was destroying the pack. He refused. Said he'd earned his position, that he'd fought for it, that anyone who didn't like it could challenge him themselves."
Eli's voice went flat. "The conversation turned ugly. I realized Marcus had wanted this outcome all along. That he'd been willing to sacrifice everything for power, and power itself had destroyed him. He was barely sane anymore, fractured by what he'd done and what he'd become."
"So you left," Jace said.
"I walked away," Eli confirmed. "Just... left. Took my authority and my strength and walked away like a coward. Left my pack to deal with the fallout. Left Marcus to deal with what he'd done."
Jace was silent in the quiet that followed. Then he cupped Eli's face in both hands, forcing Eli to meet his eyes.
"You weren't responsible for Marcus's choices," Jace said firmly.
"I was second," Eli protested. "I should have stopped the fight. I should have protected Owen. I should have—"