MARKED MY THE ALPHA OF SILVERPINE

The town sign creaked as Ivy Hale drove past it, the sound sharp enough to make her flinch. WELCOME TO SILVERPINE Population: 3,412 Someone had scratched out the old slogan beneath it “Where the Forest Watches You”but Ivy could still see the faint outline of the words, like a scar that refused to heal. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel as the road narrowed, pine trees closing in from both sides, their branches arching overhead as though conspiring to block out the sky. Silverpine hadn’t changed. That realization settled into her chest with an ache she hadn’t prepared for. The town still smelled of damp earth and cold sap, still carried the same quiet that pressed against the ears until silence felt loud. Even in the middle of the afternoon, there were no children playing outside, no laughter drifting from open windows. Houses sat back from the road, porches empty, curtains drawn. It was as if the town itself was holding its breath. Ivy swallowed. She hadn’t wanted to come back. She had promised herself she never would. But promises were fragile things, easily broken by grief and by a single letter that arrived without a return address. Your mother didn’t drown. She was silenced. And now they know you’re coming home. The memory of the words tightened her throat. She turned onto the familiar road leading deeper into town, her tires crunching over gravel. Every mile carried her further from the life she had built and closer to the one she had buried. Ten years ago, she had left Silverpine with nothing but a suitcase and anger sharp enough to cut. Now she was back with more questions than answers and a fear she couldn’t explain curling low in her stomach. The forest shifted. Ivy felt it before she saw it. A strange awareness prickled along her skin, as if unseen eyes tracked her car’s movement. She glanced at the trees, her pulse quickening. For a moment, she thought she saw something between the trunks too large to be a deer, too fluid to be human. Then the road curved, and whatever it was vanished. “Get a grip,” she muttered. Silverpine had always been good at getting inside her head. She passed the old diner closed, its windows boarded and the sheriff’s office, where a patrol car sat idling outside. The officer inside didn’t look up as she drove by. That, too, felt deliberate. As though the town had already decided what to do with her. She pulled into the gravel lot beside the cabin she’d inherited after her mother’s death. Or what she’d been told was her death. The cabin looked smaller than she remembered, crouched at the edge of the forest like it was trying to hide. Ivy shut off the engine and sat there for a long moment, listening to the ticking of cooling metal. The woods loomed behind the house, dark and dense, a wall of green that seemed to lean closer with every breath. “You’re imagining things,” she whispered. Still, when she stepped out of the car, the silence felt wrong. No birds. No wind. Just the faint crunch of her boots on gravel and the distant creak of trees swaying even though the air was still. Ivy unlocked the door and stepped inside. Dust hung in the air, sunlight slanting through the narrow windows. The cabin smelled faintly of old wood and something colder beneath it, something she couldn’t name. Her mother’s things were still there stacked books, a faded couch, a chipped mug by the sink. Grief rose unexpectedly, sharp and sudden. “I’m home,” Ivy said softly, the words echoing back at her. She set her bag down and forced herself to breathe. She had time. She would unpack, settle in, then start asking questions. Logical questions. Safe questions. A thud sounded outside. Ivy froze. It came again slow, deliberate. Footsteps. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she moved toward the window, peering out through the glass. At first, she saw nothing but trees and shadows. Then a figure stepped into view at the edge of the clearing. A man. He stood tall and still, his presence unnervingly solid against the restless forest. Dark hair fell into his eyes, his posture tense, as if he were braced for a fight that hadn’t started yet. He wasn’t looking at the cabin he was looking past it, toward the woods. As though he were listening to something she couldn’t hear. Ivy’s breath caught. There was something about him that made her pulse spike, an instinctive reaction she couldn’t explain. He turned his head slightly, and for a split second, his gaze locked onto hers through the window. The air between them snapped. Ivy stumbled back, her heart racing. By the time she gathered the courage to look again, the clearing was empty. Gone. She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. You’re tired. That’s all.” But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true. Eli Stone stood at the tree line, muscles rigid, every sense on high alert. She was here. The moment Ivy Hale crossed into Silverpine, the forest had shifted, the familiar rhythm of the land faltering like a skipped heartbeat. Eli felt it in his bones, in the low growl that stirred beneath his ribs. His wolf paced restlessly, claws scraping against the inside of his skull. Her. He hadn’t meant to get so close to the cabin. He hadn’t meant to see her. But the pull was relentless, dragging him forward no matter how hard he fought it. She looked older than the girl he barely remembered, her face sharper, her eyes darker with experience and pain. But her scent warm and electric hit him like a blow, unraveling years of careful restraint. Mate. The word burned. Eli clenched his fists, forcing the thought down. No. It couldn’t be. The curse didn’t allow for hope. It didn’t allow for bonds or mercy. Everything he touched broke. Everyone he loved suffered. And yet, when her eyes met his, something inside him fractured. The wolf surged, demanding, possessive. Protect. Eli stepped back into the shadows, breathing hard. He had sworn never to go near her. The Hale bloodline was dangerous not just to the town, but to him. Especially to him. If she learned the truth, if she awakened what slept in her blood. Silverpine would bleed. He turned away from the cabin and melted into the trees, moving silently through the forest that knew him as its own. Behind him, the town remained quiet, unaware that the balance it relied on had already begun to crack. Night fell faster than Ivy expected. She made herself a simple meal she barely tasted, her nerves humming with restless energy. Every creak of the cabin made her jump. Outside, the forest loomed, darker now, its edges blurred by shadow. She stood at the window, staring into the trees. Something out there was watching her. The feeling hadn’t faded since she arrived. If anything, it had grown stronger, curling around her thoughts, whispering just beneath the surface of her mind. She thought of the letter again, of the words they silenced her, and a chill ran through her. A howl cut through the night. Ivy gasped, her heart leaping into her throat. It was deep and powerful, echoing through the trees with a mournful edge that raised goosebumps along her arms. Another howl answered it closer this time. “Wolves,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure she believed it. She stepped back from the window just as something brushed against the glass. Not hard enough to break it. Not aggressive. Testing. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she reached for her phone, fingers trembling. Before she could dial, the sound stopped. Silence returned thick and heavy. Ivy stood there long after, staring at her reflection in the darkened glass. Her eyes looked brighter somehow, sharper. Alive in a way they hadn’t been before. Outside, unseen in the shadows, silver eyes watched the cabin with fierce intensity. The silence of Silverpine had been broken. And nothing human or beast would stop what had begun.